Jily one shots

If we only die once (part 5 FINALE)

Mary tries to come down the stairs without a sound, leaps carefully over a creaky step, her wand in hand. Her mum is already up-the smell of bacon and eggs wafts warm and scrumptious up to the second floor landing. When the young witch reaches the kitchen, her mum's back is to her. She takes the undisturbed time to linger on the threshold, staring at her mum's foot tapping on the linoleum floor to an unheard melody.

Mrs. Macdonald's hair is its usual messy bun. The sun spills from the screened windows above the sink, dusty rays haloing the strands escaping her ponytail. She's hunched over the mug Mary bought her on a Hogsmeade trip a couple of years ago. Mary's unsure if her mum even notices that her tea never goes lukewarm in it, or that infusion takes way less time than normal, or that sometimes the charm Mary cast on it wears off and the patterns prance around like the magical pictures they originally were-

"I'm no witch, honey, but I can sense when you're there."

Mary sighs. She pockets her wand and walks over to the small round dining table. The sunflower-patterned mantle is especially vibrant in the morning, almost offensively so. When Mary's properly seated, Mrs. Macdonald slides her mug towards Mary. "I don't suppose you were going to jump behind me and say boo."

After a sip, Mary says, "That never worked on you anyway. Tim still sleeping?"

"Thankfully. We're going shopping today. He's been complaining about a new blanket, and your dad's post finally came through this morning."

"Tim's four. He shouldn't be complaining about his blanket."

"You're eighteen. You shouldn't be complaining about your brother complaining about his blanket."

"Would you rather I complain about current events?"

Mrs. Macdonald makes a face at her. She gets to her feet, to the sink, and comes back with a loaded breakfast plate.

"Cheers," says Mary, handing the mug back to her mum. "Thanks, mum."

"Is everything alright, Mary?" asks Mrs. Macdonald while Mary digs in. Her tone has changed.

"What do you mean?" asks Mary. Luckily for her, it doesn't take much feigned nonchalance to convince her mother. "Everything's fine."

"Since the last time you went out with Lily, you've been... different. After that cryptic letter came. Was that from school?"

Mary doesn't answer. She uses her breakfast as an excuse.

"Is this about... whatever it is that's going on in the magical world?" There's more she wants to say, but Mary recognizes that pause; that slight obligatory moment to let herself get over the awkward phrasing. It's never quite rolled off her tongue right: Magical world. Wizarding world. Mary's world. "Are you and Lily rowing?"

Mary jumps for that one. "Oh, er-yeah. Yeah, rowing, sort of. Well, not with Lily. Something's-there's a bit of a misunderstanding with the blokes, and, er..."

"Yeah, because you were phoning her last night, Peter comes over, and then some of the lads, and everyone is just looking dejected! You're acting strange lately, it's worrying me. You're all too young to look like you're worrying about the fate of humanity. It's ridiculous."

It is ridiculous. "Sorry," says Mary. "It's nothing. It's only about Lily and her boyfriend. Complicated teenage stuff. You wouldn't want to hear it."

"Oh, but I would! I do. I've always liked Lily. Did her boyfriend cheat on her or something? Poor girl. She's always been so lovely..."

"Nah, James is lovely, too. Very lovely. For sure."

"Eh? He's caused quite a stir in you and your mates, it seems."

"No, it's not him, I swear. It's just..." His dad dying? The Order? The war? The world adamant at falling apart? "Never mind," she gives up with a sigh.

"Anyway, as long as you're alright, dear." Mrs. Macdonald pats her hand. Mary nods encouragingly. "And stay away from pretty berks, they're all around these days." She rises to go wash her now empty mug.

"Is that wizard serial killer still about, though?" asks Mrs. Macdonald, and Mary swallows at once, almost choking on her food. "It was a serial killer, wasn't it? Or a-was it a magic gang? I never remember."

"Yes," says Mary, after downing a gulp of water. She instinctively checks the wand in her pocket. "Serial killer. With a wizard gang. So always lock up, yeah? Be careful who you let in."

Mrs. Macdonald throws a big smile over her shoulder, but it doesn't reassure Mary in the slightest. "Always, dear..."

Sirius's head is throbbing something awful. And it's absolutely just his fucking luck that when he rolls over to block out the light with a groan, he falls entirely off the bed, knocking his elbow against the bedside table. He curses. He blindly grapples for his wand to close the curtains, but even when he manages to, the immediate darkness no longer helps. The fall has already fully awoken him. He groans and pushes himself up.

On his feet, stretching, he finds James's blanket huddled on the floor. Remus is curled on James's bed, still asleep. They'd both crashed in James's bedroom, waiting.

Right. So the git never arrived then. Merlin knows what he and Lily could have been doing all night that would need him to...

Alright, abort that thought.

Anyway.

He tries to levitate the sheets back up on James's-Remus's right now-bed, but he ends up dumping it on Remus's head in a crumpled lump. He chuckles and mutters an apology when Remus stirs to flip him off. Remus grumpily rights the blanket himself, and is back asleep within seconds.

Sirius pads his way out of the room to get himself a hangover potion. He's thinking about how he could maybe have the elves fix him one, but when he gets to the (so fucking bright it's offensive) grand staircase that would lead him to the potion his brain is practically turning around and screaming in his skull for, he veers the other way last minute, towards Evangeline's bedroom.

He's not sure if he should knock. It feels weird to just open the door, but he also doesn't want to accidentally wake her. He settles for turning the knob as quietly as he can, figures he can just peek his head in for a sec, check if she's okay, then he's out of there...

But Evangeline is already awake. She raises her head at the sound of the door creaking. Sirius swears he tried his best not to make a sound, but discretion seems to be a problem for him this morning. Evangeline only smiles kindly at him though. She lifts up a bony, papery index finger over her lips, and only then does Sirius notice: beside her, on a chair he's dragged to the bedside from the fireplace, with his head slumped awkwardly on the bed, buried in his arms, is James.

Sirius doesn't realize until he's sighing in utter relief just exactly how worried he has been.

Evangeline is still smiling when her hand comes back down from her lips, her fingers smoothing down James's stubborn hair. Sirius can hear his muffled snores from the doorway.

Headache forgotten, he gently closes the door.

"Hi, sorry I'm late..." Lily slides into the booth, her half-brushed hair pulled up into a slapdash ponytail. The moment she sits down she closes her eyes and massages her forehead. She tries to take deep, long breaths as quietly as she can.

"That's okay," assures Mary. "Glad you arrived before I started phoning aurors though... Sorry, Lily, but Merlin you look awful. Are you alright?"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm fine," Lily straightens up. "Are you okay? What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Why don't you order first?"

"Not hungry."

"Not even coffee or tea or anything?"

Lily looks at her suspiciously. "Okay. Tea. But stop stalling, Macdonald."

Mary's tight-lipped smile doesn't reach her eyes.

Peter's voice floats out to Sirius from behind: "Is James still out?"

"I didn't hear him arrive last night," replies Remus, emerging through the rocky archway onto the wraparound terrace. An owl of his choice is propped on his arm, his quill stuck behind his ear. "Probably still sleeping?"

"At Lily's?" Peter's outside now, too. He makes a face at the owl on his arm. "Can't we just send all of them with just one? They're all going to the same person." He prods the owl-it blinks its amber eyes once and teeters to the left, before returning back to its original position with a little bounce. "He doesn't look too reliable."

"She," Sirius corrects him. "That's Medea, and if you hurt her feelings like that you'll definitely find her unreliable... And no, not at Lily's. James is home," he adds. He looks back down at the stretch of the manor grounds below, still not quite accustomed to how boundless it seems. No-feels. More than it being, well, quite an extensive property, it's the feeling. Number 12 Grimmauld has always made him feel the opposite. His gaze sweeps the fields, the groves, even farther to the horizon, then back to the measly piece of parchment beneath his fingers, coffee-stained and smoothed out on the craggy surface of the tower parapet. If he isn't careful, the slightest shift of his hand would have it flying out in the summer wind. "You reckon if I write an essay with this they'd rescind their offer?"

Remus snorts. "You'd exert that much effort just to piss people off? Wait, no. Don't answer that."

Sirius folds the paper and sticks it inside a yellowing envelope. "So weird just writing 'yes' in."

"Don't send the Order an essay, Padfoot. Merlin's sake."

"Okay, so," begins Mary when the tea arrives, promisingly enough. But then the pause turns into another bout of delaying ramble: "Here's the thing. There's no way to get around this, right, I don't know if there's an apt... er, introduction, that sort of thing... I like to believe that I did think about it long and hard, and I am sure about this, I'm just not-"

"Mary."

The smile Mary pulls off is more like a sheepish grimace than a proper apologetic smile. And then she jerks up like she remembers something. "Wait. But isn't there anything you want to talk about?"

Lily, who has been gingerly poking the teapot's scalding surface with her index finger to keep her eyes open and her brain shut up, freezes for a fraction of a second. "What do you mean?"

"About... last night?"

"What about it?"

"Sorry. It's just I know James was with you and-"

"Mary," says Lily again, sterner. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and leans her head against her hand, squishing her cheeks slightly. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you know..." She's resumed her little game with the teapot now, just to have something else to feel. "But you can't have foretold that last night when you asked to meet me here, because that was before I said someone was with me. That's not what we're here for, okay? There's nothing much to tell anyway. We're okay, he's just... you know. He'll be okay. His mates'll take care of him."

"Oh," murmurs Mary, actually leaning back in what Lily's sure is disappointment. "Okay, well, what about you?"

"What about me what?"

"Will you be okay?"

"Of course. I'm fine, just mostly worried about you."

"But I am about you, too!" says Mary. "His mates will take care of him, right, but who'll take care of you?"

Lily straightens up, arching a brow. "Well, my mates, I reckon."

"Who?"

Lily frowns.

"You can't mean just me. You've got others, don't you? Denise, Maria, Ace... That Slytherin prefect you were friends with... Julianne? I don't remember. There was that nice girl from Ravenclaw as well. Margaret? Trisha? Have you owled any of them recently?" Lily is visibly concerned now. That, and she's regarding Mary with a dash of disbelief. "You know I won't always be around," Mary adds, swallowing nervously at Lily's expression.

Lily presses the matter with renewed urgency. "What are you saying? You're scaring me."

Mary shuffles in her seat. She closes her fingers around her mug like the seeping warmth compels her composure. "Lily, I'm saying no."

Lily shakes her head at her, not catching on.

"To the resistance," explains Mary, dropping her voice. "I'm refusing."

"Oh. That's... Well, that's okay."

"My family needs me," says Mary. "Tim is still so little, and my mum-I don't think she fully understands the gravity of the situation. Dad's away for work so I don't have to worry much about him, but then I thought we could all just... It's just never going to sink in properly. This world, and who I am-and I don't fault them for that, I really don't. I know how it is with your sister and I have no business complaining about this..."

"Mary..."

"But it's just-I'm scared, Lil. I love them so much and I'm scared. I don't want them to realize how grim things really are when it's already too late. For them or for me. I don't want them to be a part of this mess. And they already are in a way, what with me being a witch and all. I thought while I'm still not in too deep, I could still... I know it's incredibly selfish and that I'm an embarrassment to my House, I know that-"

"Mary, I understand," Lily cuts her off, and she means it. "It's okay."

"No, it's..." Mary looks around the shop. Whether to check for anyone listening in or just to stall time again, Lily's not sure. Her fingers are cold when she leans forward to take Lily's hands in both her own. There's unmistakable hesitation in her expression, and something akin to apology-and shame?-but determination eclipses them all. Lily doesn't know what could possibly upset her about it this much and is about to assure her again that it's no problem at all, that she understands and holds no grudge, truly, but then, "There's something else you should know."

"I can't believe you were going to just let me miss this," says someone just emerging from the winding staircase, and Sirius, Remus, and Peter whirl around.

"Hey, James," says Remus, coming around from their shared surprise first.

"Morning, Moony."

"You were sleeping," reasons Sirius, observing James. He still looks so tired. He doesn't look any chipper, too-although, of course, Sirius should have known better than to expect that. And it's unfair, he chides himself, and irrational, for him to entrust that Evans would be able to patch him up overnight. That's unheard of. At least James looks more... stable now. And he's up and here and speaking with them, isn't he, not locking himself up, or running off... "We thought you could just go stag later on."

James rolls his eyes, but Sirius thinks he catches his lips twitch up into a smile. When James walks into the roofed shelter to fetch an owl, Remus and Peter almost crick their necks in their haste to turn to Sirius. He meets their questioning stares with a shake of his head. No. No questions about last night. Not yet.

Peter looks disappointed, but he nods when Remus does.

Almost immediately upon James setting foot inside, a big brown owl screeches from the vaulted ceiling and swoops down to perch on his shoulder. "Hey, Mihan," James greets, stroking its feathers. The owl leans its head affectionately against his hand. "Missed me?"

"And I was going to use Mihan," says Sirius, when James comes back out. "Bummer. Now I have to use Naia, and last time I sent her out for something she delivered my subscription confirmation letter to the wrong magazine."

"You liked that magazine," Remus points out.

"Practically kissed the bird for it," agrees Peter.

"Granted," allows Sirius. "But if she sends this to the Death Eaters, we might have a slight problem."

James takes out from his pocket an envelope of his own, already addressed and sealed. "Shall we then?"

"Yes, please," says Peter. He's having trouble tying his letter to Medea's fidgety leg. "I have to get home. My mum needs help with the shop."

"I'm afraid me, too," says Remus. "My parents might worry."

James's face falls. "Hey, I, er... I'm sorry. For last night. I shouldn't have-"

"Oh, no, it's okay," says Remus at once.

But Peter has answered at the same time with: "Yeah, you were a bit of a-"

"Wormtail..." say Remus and Sirius curtly.

"-but yeah, I mean, of course. It's okay, no worries."

James nods, sheepish but grateful. He turns to Sirius. "Padfoot?"

"I told them I'd kill you when I find you," says Sirius in all, for lack of a better word, seriousness. "But as you can see, you're still around being a nuisance."

James smiles. "Thanks for sparing me then."

"You're lucky you're a special spoiled brat."

"I'm lucky you were never able to resist me."

"Don't push it just yet, Potter." But Sirius is smiling, too.

"Back to 'shall we' then, mate?" asks Peter impatiently. "Come on."

"To war, yes, we shall," declares Sirius finally, clapping James's shoulder, his other hand pumping his letter in the air as if to raise an invisible sword.

Remus didn't expect to see Mary and Lily on his doorstep when he arrives from the Potters'. He slings his backpack more securely and strides fast towards them, trying not to jump to grave conclusions.

"Lily, Mary..." The two witches turn around, and Remus's racing heart placates at the sight of them beaming.

"Hi," says Lily. Remus lingers on her a beat longer, curious. James seemed okay. She does, too. But Remus knows best among them how to escape behind veneers, and so recognizes attempts at that when he sees one.

"Hey, you," says Mary, tiptoeing to hug him. It takes a moment for Remus to return it. Seems like Mary's quite the hugger these days. "We were just about to knock!"

"I noticed," says Remus. "I was just at James's-"

"He's home then?" asks Lily.

She doesn't know? Did James leave her shortly after last night then? Should they have checked after all? What if he's done something stupid? "Yeah."

"Did he... Is he okay?"

He considers this. "Seemed so. Are you?"

Lily nods. Remus smiles at her, just to offer whatever passable kind of reassurance he can. "So what brings you two here?"

"Hey, we've visited before," says Mary defensively, catching on his tone of surprise.

"Yeah, once to return a notebook, once for my birthday-by accident even, if I recall that one correctly-and-"

"And the last to ask where Terrence Hunter from Magical Creatures lived, yes we remember," says Mary, smiling guiltily. "Sorry. We haven't been your best of mates, have we?"

"You've been okay in everything else, don't worry," says Remus. "I really hope you don't think it's my birthday though. And seeing as we're all done with Hogwarts-some new bloke's address then? Why do you all think I know where everyone lives?"

Lily punches his shoulder. "Give us some credit, why don't you? We've come for you this time, promise."

"Really."

Mary takes something from her pocket. She grabs Remus's wrist and drops the thing on his palm.

"A watch," Remus unnecessarily announces. "And it's..." He flips it and finds confirmation of his instant conjecture: Mary's name is engraved on the back of its face. "This is yours. Er, thank you?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes, it's mine. But no, not thank-you." She grins at Remus's bewilderment. "It's a Portkey right now! It will leave in two hours. Give it back to me then."

"To where? And why am going?"

"Oh, around," says Mary. "Consider it an invitation. Lily and I will be there all afternoon, and we'd love some company."

"There being where?"

It's Lily who answers this time, but she only says, "Around, Lupin. Nothing awful, we promise."

"That's two there now, Lily. We take promises seriously, you know."

"I do know. Solemnly, I hear."

Remus laughs. He leans his shoulder against the door, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at them. "You didn't come here for me, did you?"

"We did," says Mary.

"Well, you didn't come here entirely for me."

"Yes, of course," says Mary. "For me, too. And Lily here."

"And clearly, for me to call the other three, too."

"Clearly? Now, Remus, subtlety has always been one of my talents, if you're saying that-"

"I was nearest, wasn't I?"

Lily glances at Mary, who bursts out laughing. She laces an arm around Remus's. "Oh, come on. You're a set! And yes, fine, you might have been the nearest one. But that doesn't mean we want you there any less!"

"You are rubbish mates," says Remus, shaking his head dramatically. "Yes, alright. I'll see what I can do. Expect me though, whatever they say. Nothing like, 'around, somewhere not awful' to keep me insatiably curious."

"Brilliant," says Mary. Lily's smiling, too, but bravely, Remus notices, like she's exhausted and something else but this is just too important to miss.

"Would you like to come in for a bit then?" He opens the door. "We could all go together."

"Nah, we're going ahead," says Mary, checking Lily's watch. She's wound her arm around Lily's now, ready to go. "Thank you, though. We'll see you later?"

"Okay."

He watches them walk down the shabby garden path and disappear beyond the gates before getting himself inside.

Mary's already dusting herself off when Lily arrives. They've landed right by the lake, not far from the tree they used to sit under during free periods. It's so strange to see the place unoccupied. The castle looms over the grounds, giving off an abandoned, forbidding impression, the first time Lily's felt like that about it. She reckons that maybe it's just her knowing that it's empty at the moment. Still, she can't quite imagine the countless corridors and staircases silent and untreaded inside, thinks that it's probably more depressing than anything to see it that way, and considers that this might not have been the best idea...

She looks around to find Mary still busy discarding the Portkeys. Lily walks over to the lake and stares out at the placid waters, trying to relish the feeling of being home. But the moment she turns her back, her face drops all pretences, her heart feeling like it's twisting and untwisting painfully in her chest. And yet, in the craziest of thoughts she almost insists it to hurt, to lay down its worst now while she can let it, so it's not as hard to pretend later on. She needs this honest moment to herself, however brief it lasts.

"Lily," Mary is too soon calling her, and Lily fixes up her expression like a robot on autopilot. "Thanks for being here," says Mary, beside her now.

"It's nothing, really."

"It's so much to ask. I know I'm being selfish-"

"You're not."

Mary looks like she's going to cry again, but she shakes her head vigorously and then says, "Thank-you, Lil. This means a lot to me. This means everything."

Lily nods, hoping her 'it's nothing' smile is still in place. In truth, she's exhausted. She wants to go home, curl up in bed, have a good, intense crying session until she depletes herself to slumber. While she loves Hogwarts and Mary Macdonald with all her heart, and while at least there's that rush of familiarity upon being unexpectedly back giving her just the strength she needs to keep moving, there's also the thought of James now, if possible, pushing even more vividly through everything else. How can it not? Hogwarts is where it all started. (And ended, she reminds herself.) Whatever her smile conveys, that in itself is far from nothing.

They reckon the boys won't arrive till later, so they walk around their deserted school with Mary's arm wound around hers again and no destination in particular just yet. They greet the few teachers they come across in the hallways, some offering tea in their offices (Mary and Lily politely decline), most surprised to see the graduated Gryffindors hanging about in the castle (Mary just vaguely says, "Oh we have permission from Professor Dumbledore to stay for the day," every time someone asks what their business there is). Nearly Headless Nick is supremely pleased to see them. Filch isn't. Peeves... well, Peeves is Peeves. They manage to dodge his dried owl dropping trap on the fourth floor, thanks to a painting's warning, but he finds out about this and resorts to chasing them down a corridor instead, squirting the back of their shirts with what seems to be melted chocolate frogs, not passing up on the opportunity to wreak havoc upon students before term even starts. Mary and Lily run away from him laughing, for a moment given reprieve from their respective woes. But every now and then they pass by nooks and corridors that hold notable memories, all of which Mary stops to relive fondly out loud. Lily, with the all too expected pang, tries her hardest to seem as earnest about these reminiscences, even lets them broach the subject of the Marauders-for what was their Hogwarts life without them, really?-although Mary's careful not to mention anything about her and James being together, or breaking up... Throughout the entire thing, through the friendly eyerolls and the smiles and the brittle laughter that Lily hopes doesn't sound as empty to Mary as it does to herself, there's a nagging voice in the back of Lily's head going 'last one last one last one', like an annoying broken record that should be flung as far away as possible and with all of one's might. Maybe she should fling herself in the black lake, let the grindylows eat her or something. It is her brain after all, her brain that's the annoying record... Stop that... Keep it together now...

They stop in the middle of a moving staircase to the sixth floor, and Lily thinks, while they wait for it to settle, in silence that momentarily does not demand her perfunctory end of the conversation, that she understands Mary. She does, she really does. She would do the same thing had Petunia been only four years old as well, like little Tim, and maybe if their parents were still around... but would she, really? Would that even work for her, given how vocal and aggressive she has been about her side in the dawning war? Mary hasn't made as much of an impression. She's kept her head down mostly, the Death Eaters wouldn't name her a threat, they wouldn't track her down after this. It's feasible for her, this plan. For her parents, for Tim... But then there's Lily's sad, tired brain pointing out how unfair this is. Why does she have to lose Mary, too? Lily might not have been openly appreciative of her the last few days, but she doesn't think she's taken Mary for granted either, and it's just so, so unfair of the universe to take away the only person she feels she has left...

"Oh no, I don't know the password," says Mary, coming to a halt before the Fat Lady.

"Should we go to Dumbledore's?"

"You would think I'd remember something like that, I'm such an idiot..."

The portrait door swings open from the inside, and Lily feels as though she just touched another departing Portkey-

"James!" shrieks Mary, causing the other two to jump (and get back to the world from their heart-stopping surprise). She hugs him so fiercely that James stumbles back a little. "Oh my god, that means you're all here!"

"Er, no. Just me," says James. He's trying to look as naturally jesting as he can. Maybe being back in Hogwarts helps him do just that, as it has helped Lily keep moving so far. But his grin looks more tired than Lily's ever seen it.

"Nah, you're all here," says Mary confidently. "I know Remus would be. And since you're here then Sirius must be, and if all three of you are here then Peter wouldn't miss it. Oh, this is wonderful..."

"Mhmm, wonderful," mutters James as he holds the door open for the two to come in. He's trying to catch Lily's eye, but she won't return it. When her shoulder brushes his chest, she hopes her face doesn't show how hot it feels.

Sure enough, Remus, Sirius, and Peter are already inside, at their default places in the common room-Sirius is sprawled on a crimson loveseat by the fireplace, but he sits up to give Mary room; Remus is on the floor facing the already lit grate; Peter is slouched contently on a squishy armchair to the side. James perches himself on the loveseat's armrest, all hunched spine and long, awkward limbs. Lily slumps down on the floor beside Remus.

"Well, this place is certainly not awful," says Remus, smiling at Lily and then twisting around to give Mary her watch back.

"Yeah, but-what are we doing here?" asks Peter.

"Reunion," announces Mary after clasping her watch back on her wrist, looking around. "Oh, I've missed this..."

"Reunion," repeats Sirius, "Why are we having a reunion? We just graduated."

"Well, there's no clause, isn't there?" says Mary. "People can have reunions right away, it's not like there's a written five-year rule or something."

"Yeah, alright. I mean, it's not like we've seen each other recently," says Sirius. "I've missed you lot. How are things? You're pregnant, Lupin, yeah?"

"Don't be a prick," admonishes Mary. "I just thought we could have this, you know, together, what with everything happening..."

Silence falls over them. The fire crackles. Lily thinks she hears Remus sigh, but she's not sure.

"Did someone bring alcohol then?" asks Peter at length. "Isn't that a requisite for reunions?"

James, Sirius, Lily, and Mary all answer at the same time:

"No," says James.

"My hangover potion's just kicking in," complains Sirius.

"Better not," says Lily.

"I think I'll pass on that today," says Mary.

Remus and Peter exchange a look. Remus is torn between his confusion and his odd urge to laugh; Peter, obviously put out at the rush with which they rejected his input, says, "Wow. Okay then."

Another bout of silence. Besides Peter, only Mary seems to mind this, her face contorted in deep thought. Peter shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and then, when he can't stand it anymore: "So what do we do?"

They dig through a chest perpetually sitting in the back of the room, beside the dusty bookshelf that contains more random trinkets and various magical devices than actual books. They call it the Gryffindor Game Crate, that chest, filled to the brim with, as the name promises, an amassment of board games and other similar paraphernalia, Muggle and magic alike, left by generations of graduated Gryffindors.

They settle for cards first, but it doesn't last long. They move on to Gobstones, and then chess, checkers, chess again but Muggle this time, dividing in pairs, taking turns. They go through a number of other things in the crate, and then, rather inevitably, a half-hearted game of spin the bottle which ends even sooner than everything previously, because there are too many questions they can't ask (or answer). The laughter, albeit few and far between, sounds real enough when something calls for it, but James can still tell how everyone feels self-conscious about the whole affair. All of them save Mary, that is, who is the most effervescent they've ever seen her-too tolerant of their usual bullshit and curiously persistent to keep the almost unbearable, forced air of nostalgia alive among them. Once or twice James catches her looking round at them with a sad smile and faintly watery eyes... And yet, he notes, no one-not Sirius in his brutal frankness or Peter in his lack of tact-can bring himself to acknowledge or question anything out loud. In fact, he and Sirius have made it a point not to meet each other's eye for too long in a silent agreement to keep these questions unaddressed. For now. Lily keeps avoiding him in general, too-sits far away, doesn't look at him, doesn't talk to him directly if she can help it. At least that he can explain. She has her I'm-having-fun-this-is-fun smile fixed impressively convincing on her face. If James hasn't seen it a hundred times before when she had to tutor first years and second years when already practically half-dozing on her feet, he probably wouldn't recognize it himself.

Something's definitely up. He doesn't dare think it, but it almost feels as if...

When Mary suggests hide-and-seek and, besides a slight, awkward pause wherein everyone makes sure she isn't kidding, no one protests (he would have, he so would have if they all aren't looking so goddamn solemn and unbearably mawkish for some reason), Sirius thinks, alright, seriously-Is someone dying?

And then he feels terrible about it and chastises himself, before insisting, in much needed self-appeasement, that it was nothing but his usual smart-aleck comment-totally ironic, just an ill-timed, inappropriate joke that he thank Merlin had the last-minute sense not to say out loud.

But as they clamber out of the portrait hole one by one, Mary reminding them that they stick to the sixth and seventh floors only, everyone else nodding like this is all completely normal, them playing hide and seek in the empty castle like they're eleven (or five-god, never mind that, just them having this reunion or whatever in the first place), he really can't help but think that they're all just here and keeping this up to grant somebody's last, dying wish.

Fuck, is it Mary? Is she... leaving? Is Lily? Why isn't anyone asking? Why doesn't he ask? Why is he patrolling the corridors after the count of ten, obediently hunting them and not confronting Mary or Lily and asking them what the fuck is going on?

Remus yanks her arm harder than he intended, and she jumps and almost screams. He lets her settle down, smiling sheepishly while she inhales and exhales and glares at him.

"Merlin, Lupin," scolds Lily.

"Sorry," says Remus. "I just wanted to talk."

"Can't talk. I have to-"

"Hide? We're hiding."

"Well, I... I rather want to find my own hiding place, if you don't mind."

"That sounds ridiculous and you know it."

"I don't know it-"

"Keep your voice down or we'll get caught!" he hisses.

"Didn't know you took it this seriously."

Remus raises an eyebrow and says, in a horrible imitation of her voice: "I rather want to find my own hiding place if you don't mind."

"Oh, shush..."

But she does relent and they go further into the dark, cramped nook behind one of the tapestries on the sixth floor, the one behind the statue of some famous Healer. The light is scant, the walls are cold. The floors aren't (that) filthy though, so moments later they're sitting side by side, cross-legged, much like they just were in the common room. "So," says Remus. "What's up?"

"Er, hide-and-seek?"

"Lily."

"Yeah?"

"Seriously, what's going on? We're playing hide-and-seek. In Hogwarts. Just, you know-what the hell?"

"You are aware that you just answered your own question."

"Evans," he tries, employing the same austerity the others usually use when addressing her with it.

Lily notices, amused, but still maintains not to tell. "Nice try," she says. After a while, she rests her head on Remus's shoulder. "I hope no one comes just yet. I'm so tired..."

"You have to tell me, it's freaking me out," Remus persists. "I reckon the only thing that's kept our mouths shut is that this feels too serious for us to muck up. This isn't really a reunion, is it?"

Nothing; just her deep, slow breaths. Remus's eyes have adjusted to the dark now. Lily is tracing the letter J on the floor with her index finger.

"Is Mary... okay?" asks Remus.

"Yeah, she's alright."

"Are you?"

She nods against his shoulder and hums noncommittally.

"You're really not going to say, are you?"

She shakes her head. "Sorry."

They sit in silence. Lily's just finished E and is halfway through S when they hear footsteps outside. Neither starts at this, having never truly cared about the game.

"It just feels like... a send-off party," mumbles Remus when Lily's hand has stilled. "And I think we've all had enough with the goodbyes lately."

Lily still won't say anything however, just pats his knee twice, whatever that's supposed to be for. The tapestry is shoved to the side before Remus can remark on it, Lily sits straight, and they shield their eyes from the sudden harsh light. They think for a moment that it's over and are both secretly relieved, but it's only Mary. "Room for one more?" she whispers, swinging the tapestry back to its place, and there's darkness once more.

"It would be nice if you actually include me in this one now," whinges Peter as the lot of them trudge down to the Quidditch pitch later. He kicks a stone in the grassy path, and then angrily kicks it further when he reaches it again. He does this six times until the stone isn't in his way anymore. "Or should I not get my hopes up?"

"Oh quit it, will you?" snaps Sirius. "You should take it as a compliment. Technically, you won. No one found you."

"Yeah, because you tried really hard..."

"I found all the others! You're honestly going to sulk about this? Are you seven?"

"You're both seven," mutters Remus. "You're giving me a headache."

"You let me hide for an hour while you lot went to the kitchens!" cries Peter. "I am perfectly entitled to these feelings!"

"We couldn't find you, Peter," says James for what feels like the thousandth time. "Where were you anyway?"

"I was hiding. We were playing hide-and-seek, you see."

"No but where? We looked everywhere..."

"That room across Barnabas the Barmy."

Mary frowns. "On the seventh floor? There's no room across that tapestry."

"There is," says Peter impatiently. "I was there."

The others look at each other. "There's no room across Barnabas the Barmy, Peter," says Remus. "There's not one in the map."

"The map's wrong then," says Peter, thoroughly frustrated now.

"The map's never wrong," chorus James and Sirius.

"That's not the point! The point is that you always leave me out in stuff! I know I'm usually slow on the uptake and all that, but-"

"We didn't mean to, we just couldn't find you," says Remus. "We all helped Sirius look."

"But then we got hungry," adds James. "And we've already scoured both floors-even the fourth and fifth in case you missed Mary's rules."

"I didn't miss Mary's rules. Did you even-did we even really play? Lily? Did you hide?"

"Yeah, I was with Remus."

"Mary?"

"I did hide, Peter."

Sirius rolls his eyes and groans. "They did, they were behind that tapestry on the sixth-look, this is ridiculous. We're sorry, really! We didn't let you stay there for an hour on purpose, okay? You can choose your team for Quidditch. You can have James! Just shut the fuck up, will you?"

The lack of players calls for some rule bending: each team will have three members instead of seven, any one of either team is allowed to go after the Snitch if they spot it, all of them are to play the role of Chaser and Keeper for their respective teams, and there will be no need for Beaters in a unanimous decision to pass on the bludgers. The changes are set and made clear, they take off, and the game commences.

Mary keeps shrieking every time her broom so much as jerks when she tries to speed it up. Lily surprisingly turns out to be a decent player, the major hindrance to this being that she keeps passing the Quaffle to her nearest teammate every time James zooms to block her, so that he'd have to go after that person instead (this person is, unfortunately, usually Mary, who just follows Lily wherever she flies to, and who does the poorest job out of the lot of them in defending the Quaffle). Remus flies okay, but his aim is always a little short to the left. Peter is aggravating-all bossy and smug although no good at it at all himself-but no one upbraids him for this, by way of them apologizing for letting him hide alone for an hour while they went for mince pies in the kitchens. He seems to be the only one who cares about the scores anyway. Sirius and James still play too well for the lot even when, quite ostensibly, they're already trying their best to pass off as average players. In the end, James sights the Snitch by the west stands and wastes no time to go after it-Remus listlessly pursuing him in the name of his team-and then ends the game with victory the last thing in his mind and his desire to wrap up the most awkward Quidditch game in history first.

It's three hundred and ten points to fifty, and the sun is setting.

Sirius goes straight to the changing rooms without a word.

Peter, hide-and-seek fiasco forgotten, seems noticeably more self-content as he bites down on his sandwich. He's sat with the others on a picnic blanket by the lake, surrounded by mason jars containing pulsing balls of light, and an assortment of the second batch of food they procured from the kitchens.

By now, James and Sirius have allowed themselves to exchange a number of meaningful looks between them. But besides Sirius mouthing "what the fuck is this" in the locker rooms and James responding with "no idea", they haven't been able to further discuss the matter. Remus, having given up on coaxing the entire story out of Lily, just decided to go along as heartily as he can, given that the girls are still so insistent to carry on with it despite everything going against them. Peter is only mostly pleased about the recent match, having coached his team to victory (or so he believes). He's still curious, he supposes, but not that much now to be honest...

It's gotten dark. The lights in the castle flicker to life floor by floor behind them. An owl hoots from within the forest. Fireflies flutter overhead, flying in lazy circles around the boughs, lighting up gossamer here and there before getting caught in them the next second. The night sky is clear save for a few cirrus clouds, scattered strips of silver lit by the waxing moon. Remus leans on his arms and stares up at it thoughtfully, and in that particular angle and lighting Lily notices for the first time a small scar in the hollow between his neck and left clavicle. James watches Lily watch Remus from under his hung head. Sirius catches him at it and looks away. Mary starts conjuring paper cranes and levitates them to the water to sail.

All six of them have gone quiet.

Peter's just about to help Mary make more paper cranes when Dorcas Meadowes appears out of nowhere, and then promptly sets her Portkey-an old, battered Quaffle-on fire.

Before anyone can speak, she turns around and sees the six Gryffindors lounging by the bank on their picnic blanket. She mirrors their surprise for a moment, and then seems offended at the sight of them.

"Aren't you an eager bunch?" she mutters under her breath as she passes by where they are, not stopping to chat, hurrying up the path to the castle.

Annoyed, Sirius turns to James and says, making sure it's loud enough for Dorcas to hear, "So that's how people say hello these days." But Dorcas is well away now, and if she heard it she didn't make any indication that she did.

"What's she doing here?" asks Remus. "And where are you going?" he adds, for Lily and Mary have gotten to their feet, collecting the uneaten food and packing them back in paper bags.

"We have to go, come on," says Mary, still trying to dredge up vestiges of conviviality. She tugs at one end of the blanket. "Off now, you..."

"What's going on now?" asks James when the blanket's hastily folded and tucked away, stepping forward to help Mary with some of the paper bags.

"No, no, I got it, thank you..." James's question goes ignored. Mary raises the paper bags. "Mind if I take these home to my brother?"

"No, go ahead," says Sirius distractedly. "What's Meadowes doing here then?"

Still no answer. Lily is extinguishing the lights with her wand and then Vanishing the jars, so that now they're illuminated only by the fireflies and the gleaming lake and the generous night sky.

"Lily, what's going on?" demands Remus. Peter eats the last of his sandwich, pats his hands clean on his trousers, and looks expectantly at the girls as well.

"We have to go inside," answers Lily. She casts a lumos, and with that she and Mary begin to trek their way up to the castle. Even with the soft blue film of moonlight swathing much of the grounds, they can't see Dorcas from the bank anymore.

But no one moves among the boys, and even Peter for once doesn't need to question his mates first to stay where he is. Sirius grits his teeth and, with a curt nod of approval from the other three, calls out to Lily and Mary, "We're not going anywhere until you tell us what the bloody hell is going on. I've had enough of this."

Lily and Mary face them, the latter looking apologetic, but also like she expected this kind of behaviour from them (which doesn't do anything good for the boys' frustration). Lily, meanwhile, feeling so exhausted she thinks her emotions just might have shut down completely, stares them down with the blankest expression on her face. "You all said yes to the Order?" she asks.

James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter weren't expecting this, but they all nod, Peter a little later and more zealously than the others.

"They're inducting us tonight," Lily informs them, and then leaves.

Mary stays to pull Remus by the arm, muttering, "Sorry, sorry, come on..."

Remus lets her drag him towards Lily's rapidly disappearing figure ahead, and not long after the others likewise follow suit.

What Sirius doesn't understand is why Lily and Mary had to be all secretive about it. Now that he knows what they're really doing here he sort of understands the reunion thing, but why did they all wait till now to say something about the Order? It's not like it would have made any difference... right? That's what he occupies himself with as they walk down the hallways following Lily's lead-imagining what he would have done differently had he known about the induction. He can't think of anything, except maybe talked about it, certain curiosities and questions about the group, about missions, members, intel...

"Where are we going?" James asks Mary, snapping Sirius out of his reverie. They just cleared another flight of stairs and are now striding along a fifth floor corridor. "Dumbledore's office?"

"Oh. I don't... Lily! Where exactly are you going?"

Lily, who has maintained her distance from them, turns around, confused. In answer she points at a single phoenix feather perched precariously on a painting's frame. "You don't see them?"

"We do now," says Sirius.

"I've been following them," says Lily. "A statue was holding one down in the Entrance Hall..." She lets them catch up to her before they walk on. Sure enough, when they turn the corner, Sirius spots another phoenix feather, this time poking out from the head of a suit of armour.

When they reach the seventh floor, they stop by a long corridor, and there are no more feathers in sight.

"But there's nothing here," says Remus, looking around the hallway once more in case they only missed where the next feather is. Sirius checks the torch brackets, the floors, maybe it's lodged between those loose rocks... Nothing. Besides two or three arched windows inviting draft and moonlight in at the end of the corridor where it branches off to the right, there are no doors on either side of its length, only the occasional torch, painting, and a tapestry of trolls that spans most of the middle of the right wall.

James and Lily are staring curiously at the tapestry.

"Hey, Wormtail..." begins James, eyes on the piece before him.

"Where did you say you hid earlier?" continues Lily for him, frowning at the tapestry as well.

Peter makes an impatient tutting noise. "I told you, that room across Barnabas..." He stops, following James and Lily's gaze and gaping at the tapestry himself. "That one. Across from that one." He spins around, but there's only the uneven surface of the opposite wall. "I swear I'm remembering it correctly," says Peter, scratching his head.

Sirius walks over to the wall and gives it a tentative tap. "Maybe it's-Mary, what's wrong?" For Mary's eyes are, alarmingly, glistening with tears.

"I think I have to go now," says Mary, smiling at them and wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. "You're in the right place, it's probably just me."

"What do you mean?"

"I won't be joining you," says Mary, drawing herself up to full height, which isn't much. "I should go. Maybe it's not... I don't know, maybe it's not revealing itself because I'm around."

"You won't be joining us?" asks Remus.

"No. I didn't... I'm not signing up for the Order. I said no."

No one speaks for a while. For Sirius, some things are starting to finally clunk into place. Had he known that earlier, he can think of a number of other things he would have done differently. Mary sniffs, and then steps forward to hug Lily. "Thank you, Lily. For today and everything."

Lily hugs back, nodding rigidly against Mary's shoulder, her face kind of screwing up every now and then in her effort not to cry. "Are you sure about this?" she asks shakily.

"Yes."

"And you don't want me to go with you? Just until... I can be there, maybe they'll let me catch up to this later..."

"No, it's okay. No goodbyes, right?" Mary lets Lily go, turns to the boys and grins at them. "We'll see each other again."

"Of course," says Sirius, eyebrows furrowing, feeling a little incredulous. "You're just not part of the Order, and that's fine. You won't know about it, but it's not like you're leaving."

Mary just smiles at him. "We'll have another reunion. Hopefully we'll all be better at it next time. Maybe there is a five-year clause, after all."

"What do you mean we'll be better?" says James, smirking, already trying to lift their spirits up, bless him. "We were in our element today, Mary. Fantastic. As usual."

"True," says Sirius. "All that without alcohol, too. We didn't blow up anything at all, and we even agreed to hide-and-seek."

"Did we?" asks Peter, shooting Sirius a look of childish reproach.

"Oh, don't you start again," warns Remus.

Mary laughs. "You're right, you all did try to be... well, yourselves today. Thank you. Really."

She hugs them one by one, much like on their porch the previous night, but with a heavier air of finality. She gives Lily a second, longer, tighter hug. Before turning the corner she waves at them one last teary goodbye, and they all wave/nod/smile back. Sirius surreptitiously turns to Lily when Mary's echoing footsteps have faded into nothing, his efforts at being furtive not succeeding much, for the other three apparently felt like doing the exact same thing. She looks away from all of them, but not before Sirius glimpses her smile dropping so quickly and entirely; her face going back to that horrible blank expression she had back outside. James looks just as pained as her, standing there watching the back of her head, and Sirius is just about to turn to Remus and Peter and try to wordlessly ask them to do something about this dreadful development, when they're all abruptly distracted by the set of tall, carved double-doors that has started to materialize on the wall before them.

When fully formed it stands right across the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and it's Peter who speaks first: "Told you there's a room here."

It's about the same number of people as the last time, around twenty, even though only half of the original initiates seem to have turned up. Among them in attendance are who Lily supposes are already full-fledged Order members, seated around a long polished table in the middle of the room. Some are still in uniforms; older, respectable, intimidating men and women talking in low, urgent voices, who no longer feel the nugatory need to look up at the new arrivals. The walls, deep blue in colour like the darker patches of the moonlit grounds below, are awash from top to bottom with illustrations drawn in pale silver; thin, precise lines dashing and spiraling and criss-crossing. On the left wall Lily recognizes some constellations amidst the intricate patterns-she finds Canis Major first, a habit she picked up since she became friends with Sirius. When she seeks him by instinct for this she finds him (and James) already looking at her, and she manages a small smile, which they return. The ceiling is full of murals too, but instead of pale silver they appear to have been etched in with ribbons of radiant light, so that it sufficiently kindles the whole room, and it hurts Lily's eyes to look up long and try to discern what the shapes are supposed to be. The wall across the door is screened with towering shelves filled with thick, hardbound tomes; strange-looking apparatuses that whirred and clinked and spun; rolls of blueprints and charts and maps; stacks of propaganda posters and torn articles from the Prophet; and porcelain figurines of famous people in both wizarding and Muggle history.

Lily and the boys sit on the far end of the table, by the Canis Major wall, where their fellow young members have settled themselves. Lily, in order not to linger on the thought of Mary and not seeing her for a long while (or possibly ever, but she can't afford that thought right now), tries to remember as many names as she can: Dorcas Meadowes, the nearest to them, has her arms and legs crossed and is sitting primly; Marlene McKinnon looks nervous and excited at the same time (she grinned and waved at Lily and the boys when they entered; she's chatting with Remus now); Frank Longbottom and Alice Wells, although not much older than Lily and her classmates, are seated at the other end with the higher-ups. They're Aurors now, graduated top of the class in the Academy and are presently a well-known, formidable pair in the field. Gideon Prewett from the first meeting is there, Jeanne Marchbanks, Something Podmore from a few years up, Alastor Moody of course...

"I don't see Dumbledore. D'you think our professors would come?" Lily hears Peter ask Sirius and James (Remus is still talking to Marlene), detecting a trace of apprehension.

"Dunno..."

After the last person has come in (a tall witch who walked with such a regal air that Lily watched her all the way from the door to her seat), Moody stands at the head of the table to oversee the meeting once again, beginning with informing them that Dumbledore can't make it tonight, but that he extends his welcome and gratitude to the new recruits. He mentions that as they convene, somewhere else in the castle memory modifications are being done to the people who have refused to join them (this he makes sure he says strictly as-a-matter-of-factly and without any touch of judgment).

"Our background checks of you are complete, so all collected information that has so far only been privy to existing Order members will be made available to you tonight," says Gideon, going around the table and handing each one of them a ream of documents held by a cardboard folder the exact same colour as the walls. "Thankfully, your being newly graduated meant there wasn't much background to appraise besides your Hogwarts records-and the few years spent outside it, for some of you-and Dumbledore and your professors already provided that..."

"Your first assignment is to go through these files," says Moody gruffly. "The moment you step out of this room they will be disguised as something else other than what they are, but do still make sure you're not reckless or dumb enough to leave it lying around. The revealing incantation is found on the top page-make do to remember it, it's different for each person. You are to get rid of these papers in some permanent way once you've studied it in the next three days."

"Three days?" asks Something Podmore, whose name still escapes Lily. "Why three days?"

"It will destroy itself on the third day."

"What if we're busy?"

"Then you will be attending meetings with no idea what is being discussed," says a burly wizard sitting near the regal witch. He has a deep, booming voice and thick eyebrows. "You will botch your assignments, and you will be a useless, unnecessary presence that I might as well just Obliviate now."

"Cool. Three days. Gotcha."

The older members are studying the newbies now, their expressions a mix of skeptical, encouraging, curious, and (Lily might be wrong) even sort of sorry. Lily feels uneasy under their blatant scrutiny, and for something to do she skims the contents of her folder. Names of suspected Death Eaters, a map dotting Order safe houses, a roster of existing members, potential recruits, a record of previous meetings, a schedule of future public events and their respective delegates...

"And missions?" asks Jeanne Marchbanks, daintily going through her folder, her pinkie finger stuck out.

"What about them?" asks Gideon.

"We get information tonight-when do we get missions?" And then she raises her head with a sudden concern: "Do we get missions?"

"Excited as we all are to be doling out field assignments, Marchbanks," barks Moody, "we would first need you to assess your own abilities and inform us which jobs you think you could take on best. Espionage, surveillance, logistics, immersion, even direct battle, if you feel up for it-although I personally suggest that you familiarize yourself with that, whether or not you intend to partake in it. Include in your assessment any or all skills that you can and are willing to contribute to the Order, to be reported to me, or whoever presides the meeting next time. Should you feel that you're incapable of objective self-evaluation, you will inform us as well so we can assign a member to assess you..."

"And if... if we don't have any particular talents?" asks Peter, raising a hand, and then looking very surprised and frightened that he actually spoke.

"I'm sure that's not true," Alice cuts in before anyone can respond. "Even if you do feel that way I assure you we'll be able to find a suitable, significant job for you... Peter, isn't it? You should know that your being here alone is already very much appreciated."

"Wells is right," says Gideon, his tone softening in spite of himself, eyes roving Peter interestedly. For a moment it looks like there's more he wants to add, but something halts his tongue at the last minute.

"That sort of self-doubt is dangerous, young man," an icy voice cuts through the room. The tall, regal witch has leaned forward in her seat to look at Peter. "It would bring us all much ease if you promise you'd start believing in yourself from now on. We cannot allow weak links in our midst."

Lily can't tell if she meant that to be more uplifting or discouraging.

"Right... Any other questions?" Gideon inclines his head towards Dorcas, but the witch is silent. Her folder is open to the page bearing the list of suspected Death Eaters, dazedly intent upon an unseen name.

"That's it for the new recruits then," Gideon wraps up when no more questions are raised. "You're officially part of the Order of the Phoenix. Er, welcome. You can stay for the reports if you want, just to get a feel on the ropes or something, but if you wish to study up first that's fine too. Don't you worry about the time and place of the next meeting, we'll inform you all in some way once they're set. You may go." No one leaves. Partly because they're genuinely curious, partly because they all feel the need to prove themselves somehow. "Alright then. Now... Oh, right. Floor's yours, Edgar..." The burly wizard gets to his feet and lumbers to the head of the table. Moody sits down. Gideon takes his seat as well, near Alice and Frank.

Edgar begins his report on a wizard he's tailing in the Ministry, divulges that the Order's fears that a number of Ministry employees are acting under the Imperius Curse might have real grounds, although what exactly these employees are bid to do, he hasn't found out yet, but he and someone called Benjy have been trying to get themselves invited to this gala next month... Lily tries not to zone out, but she and the other new members have limited knowledge of these reports, and these names and departments and missions do not yet make sense. James keeps glancing at her still; it's taking all of her willpower not to glance back, besides her mind's still so full of Mary and goodbyes and last night and my god she's officially part of the Order of the Phoenix, part of the war... She thinks about her potions research, the internship, Petunia...

Dear Merlin-how in the world is she going to study all of these documents in three days with her mind running wild like this?

The corridor is awfully bright when they finally step out, James's eyes having been accustomed to the dark blue of the walls inside. There is a feast in the Great Hall, they've been told, so most of the members head there after exiting the mysterious room across the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, but neither James nor his mates feel like stuffing themselves at the moment. Marlene is talking to Remus again. Sirius and Peter are arguing over Peter's earlier remark about his supposed lack of talent. James is knackered. He watches his mates, speaking only when required, reacting appropriately, but all he can think about is how he feels like he could sleep forever once he hits the sack.

He hears snatches of conversation from the departing witches and wizards while they stand idly about, and gleans that there is more to talk about among these people other than the Order or the meeting that just transpired, topics that are unexpectedly jejune: weather forecasts for the next week, pudding cravings, the latest Tornadoes win, a nephew who just learned how to spell "aardvark"... Moody, Gideon, Edgar, and a tall, stately witch named Emmeline Vance (on whom James vaguely remembers having some sort of minor crush when he was younger) are discussing something by the doorway as they wait for everyone to file out.

Alice and Frank stop by to welcome the new members more warmly, shaking their hands and advising them not to take Moody and Gideon's stony severity as everything there is about the two wizards, or how the group in general will be like. "It's not always that intense," says Alice, grinning at them.

"Or dull," adds Frank, nodding, and then throwing a cautious look over his shoulder to make sure Moody and the others didn't hear. Lowering his voice, he says, "Gets like that occasionally, but tonight was especially drab."

"It's just your bad luck it's your first official one," says Alice, "but it's actually fun sometimes, you'll see..."

Marlene and the rest of the other new recruits join them on their way to the Great Hall, chatting animatedly. James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter stay behind. Dorcas has disappeared without a word again. Lily is standing awkwardly alone a little away, but not for nothing-she keeps glancing at the talking adults by the door, as if waiting for them to finish. Sirius, Remus, and Peter are now on the subject of the aforementioned self-assessment, agreeing that they should meet and do it together for more objectivity. After a minute or two more of hesitation and divided attention to his mates, James excuses himself and approaches Lily.

"Hey."

She looks up, cheeks going pink, startled. "Oh. Hi."

"Listen, I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye earlier, I-"

"It's fine." She doesn't sound angry, but not totally fine either. "Don't worry about it. We can just-"

"I can't do that."

"What?"

"You were going to say we can just forget it, weren't you?"

Lily looks at him defiantly. She's saved from a response by someone putting a hand on James's shoulder, and James is very bewildered to find an expectant Edgar Bones, flanked by Emmeline Vance and Gideon Prewett. "A word, Potter?"

Begrudgingly he leaves Lily's side, and they walk to a secluded corner so the others wouldn't hear. Sirius, Remus, and Peter have noticed; they've straightened up to watch, no longer talking. Lily sticks around as well, a crease between her eyebrows. The secret room's doors have dissolved back into a blank wall. All the others, even Moody, have gone down to the Great Hall, or else left some other way.

"Er, is there a problem?" asks James, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling much like he's about to be told off for something he did. He doesn't think he's done anything stupid recently-there hasn't been much opportunity, really, or mood for it. Maybe they found something in his Hogwarts records that's worth mentioning? But then, he thinks, most of those he did with Sirius, Remus, and Peter...

Edgar crosses his arms and casts James an admonitory look. "Are you really sure about this?"

James blinks. "What?"

"Stay sharp, Potter," says Emmeline. "Are you sure you want to be part of the Order?"

"Yes," he answers right away. "Why are you asking me this?"

"It's not because of some reckless, self-destructive reason?" asks Gideon. Emmeline and Edgar throw him a dismayed, warning look, but James barely notices, greatly stunned by this question, for a moment unable to speak. When he gathers himself together his eyes flash beneath his glasses, jaw hardening. He drags the next words out, amazed at how fast this has incensed him: "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Don't talk to me like that," snaps Gideon.

"With all due respect, I'd rather I never talked to you at all."

"What he means, Potter," says Edgar, putting a firm hand on Gideon's shoulder, who for a moment seemed to advance, "is are you sure you are here for the right reasons?"

Clenching his fists and struggling not to say anything he would regret, James says, "Yes."

"We're just checking," says Emmeline, who clearly isn't pleased with either James's or Gideon's behaviour. "We don't want you bundling in this kind of thing blinded by misplaced zeal, Potter. Your parents are compassionate, honourable people who have long won our respect. Evangeline's son joining a very involved resistance group in some grief-ridden self-sacrificing stint right after Charlus-"

"I know we just buried my dad yesterday," says James through gritted teeth, "but that has nothing to do with anything. This isn't misplaced zeal-I don't even know what the hell that means. It was already a yes when I first got Dumbledore's letter, it's not some stint... Why does everyone think I'm not capable of making my own decisions?"

"Calm down, Potter," says Edgar, glancing back at James's friends. They must have shown signs of coming over, for Edgar shakes his head in their direction. James does try to calm down, but his heart is beating very fast and his hands are shaking. His exhaustion is making it so fucking easy to succumb to the churning rage. "We all know you're more than competent, Dumbledore and McGonagall have stressed this upon us enough. Look, the members you met tonight, all of them are here because they know the severity of this rising threat-oh don't interrupt me, I know that you know as well, you're not a moron-but they just as much have things to stick around for!"

"And, what, I don't?"

"I don't mean stick around and fight. I mean stick around and live, do you understand?"

James doesn't, admittedly, so he just keeps staring at him with a look of resentful incredulity.

"We're concerned about your lack of... How do we phrase this..."

"Self-preservation," supplies Gideon, and James turns to glare at him, but is taken aback by the sincere concern he finds in the older wizard's eyes.

"We don't want the Order of the Phoenix to be a means for you to vent whatever things you're dealing with," says Emmeline. "For your mum's sake, for yours-even ours. We do commend your bravery, all of you, but you're all still too young to be fighting, so we want to make sure you're as clear-headed about this as you're capable. If we weren't so desperately outnumbered..." She eyes James's friends as well. They're still watching from the sides, wary. "Your girlfriend's a Muggle-born, correct? What's her name?"

"Lily Evans," says James briskly. And then, as a rather late after-thought: "And she's not my girlfriend."

"Oh. Well, her being Muggle-born is strong enough of a drive, at any rate. Sirius Black, blood traitor. He's got his own family to prove wrong. Remus Lupin's been expected to fight through this even back then. My, even your friend Peter has a secure amount of self-guardianship buried in his tendencies of self-deprecation... These things assure us that they will make themselves impelled enough to see the end of this, Potter. We consider that before recruiting, especially with this foolhardiness prevalent among children these days."

"We're not children."

Emmeline is infuriatingly unperturbed. "My point still stands."

James takes a deep breath, his nails digging on his palms. "I don't understand-you're asking me because I'm-I'm well-off? Because my mates have nothing going for them and I do?" says James heatedly. "I want to fight because I think this blood segregation is fucking bullshit, is that not reason enough, I thought that's what this group is about-"

"It is what it's about," says Gideon. "But we're asking you because while we're all ready to die for this should it come to it, we're not doing it because we know that we could end up dead."

James is not entirely certain that he'd understood that either, but he's more concerned about the fact that they singled him out for this. Is this some kind of supplementary induction? Is it meant to be this insulting? "Well, I'm not dumb, that's not what I'm here for either. I know what I'm doing." But he hates how childish all that just sounded, like he's only confirming what they fear of him.

Emmeline sighs. "Very well. If you say so."

Gideon turns to Edgar. "He seems insistent enough."

"He's also not deaf," says James, and Gideon frowns at him.

With one last lingering, hesitant look from Edgar, they walk away. James stays where he is, not moving even when Sirius, Remus, and Peter reach him, asking what that was all about.

"Nothing," he says. "Let's just go home. I'm tired..."

"-Lily Evans still here?"

All of them look up to see another wizard jogging in from the end of the corridor. He stops by Emmeline, Edgar, and Gideon, who have seemingly been interrupted on their way to the Great Hall by Lily. The panting wizard looks exactly like Gideon, except with longer, untidier hair, and a more jovial bearing about him. Lighter steps, easy expression, carefree gestures. He stops to catch his breath, and then, "I was just in the Great Hall, but they said Lily Evans is still here?"

"Yeah, I'm here," says Lily uncertainly. James and the others walk up to them, curious.

"What is it, Fabian?" asks Gideon.

"Oh, nothing bad, nothing bad," assures Fabian, waving a hand away. "I was just asked to give Lily Evans this-" He fetches from within his robes a small glass vial, inside of which a silvery substance slowly swirled. He hands it to Lily, still smiling. "There you go."

Lily takes it, her eyes wide and-James feels like a block of something heavy just dropped in his gut-brimming with tears. "She... But why would she give me this?"

Fabian clearly wasn't expecting this tearful reaction; his smile wipes from his face, and he turns to Gideon, Edgar, and Emmeline for help, but they look back at him just as perplexed. Fabian then shifts to the boys, but they have no idea what's going on either. "What-I don't know, Benjy just said... I'm so sorry, should I take it back?"

"No," says Lily, pocketing the vial. She smiles at Fabian through her tears and shakes her head. "Thank you, no, it's-I just wasn't expecting it, that's all. I was going to ask Gideon about it just now anyway, I just thought... Sorry. It's okay."

Fabian eyes Lily anxiously, and then, "It came with a message. But if you don't want to hear it..."

"What is it?"

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"And they're..." Fabian gestures at the others around them. "They're okay to hear?"

Lily pauses to consider, and then she nods.

"Okay, well, Benjy said, he said that she said that if you're not going to be able to give it back someday, that's okay, don't worry, because she'll be perfectly fine, she promises, and that... blimey, but are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, sorry, go on," Lily manages, taking a deep breath and hastily wiping her tears. Emmeline, Gideon, and Edgar are looking positively disconcerted now. James nudges Remus (he sees Sirius in his periphery do the same to Peter) and Remus steps forward to put an arm around Lily.

"Er-she said she'll be fine," continues Fabian, "and that-getting them back without you to return to would just be pointless anyway..."

Lily doesn't have to assure the adults more than only a few times that she's alright for them to go ahead-they all have been eager to leave since she burst into tears. When it's only the five of them left and Lily's not crying anymore, they all agree they're not up for a feast in the Great Hall. Remus suggests Hogsmeade, and then just figuring out whether they'd want to go home from there or stay a bit or something. All of them concur, and they begin the quiet trip down the castle.

Nobody feels like talking, so none of the Marauders' secret passages to Hogsmeade are utilized. Their feet shuffle them forward by their ingrained sense of direction while their minds race. It's not until they reach the Entrance Hall that Peter breaks the silence.

"Lily, it isn't Mary's, is it?"

"It is."

"Okay," says Peter. "Okay, but it was just... it's not that much memory, right? I mean-a vial?"

Lily swallows, and then, "It's all of her memories of Hogwarts," she says quietly.

"What?" James, Sirius, and Remus blurt out, aghast.

"Gideon said she'd probably still do accidental wandless magic," she continues, her eyes determinedly on the patch of floor before her. "She just won't know why."

"Why... But why didn't she tell us?" asks Peter. "Why didn't you?"

"She asked me not to. And you wouldn't have acted the way you did today if you knew."

"We would have tried harder," says Remus ruefully.

"Fuck, I'd have been less of a prick," says Sirius.

"Exactly-she didn't want that, she just wanted you to be as you are."

"Well, what the fuck was the point of that?" asks Sirius grimly. "If she's going to forget anyway?"

"I don't know, Sirius, okay? Will you please not take it out on me?"

Sirius glares-and then sighs. "Sorry. You're right, sorry..."

No one talks all the way to the castle front steps, their vexation manifested only in their thin lips and furrowed brows and the occasional subtle shake of the head. When already on the grounds, James asks, "But wouldn't that put her in more danger? Not knowing what's coming, not being able to defend herself? Her family?"

"They're flying to her dad abroad tomorrow," answers Lily, softly, spiritlessly. "She and her mum and Tim."

"Why did she have to erase her memories then?" asks Peter. "She could just have left."

"Because she can't stand to leave knowing what she's leaving behind," says Lily, her voice cracking, frustrated and tired and at this point maybe even as bitter, if not more, as Sirius. "But she also can't stay."

They've reached the lake. Mary's paper cranes haven't gone too far, but they've strayed away from their cluster and each one is now sailing aimlessly on their own. James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter have stopped not far from the same beech tree they picnicked under earlier that night.

Lily mutters, "you go ahead," and walks over to the bank without waiting for a response.

James sighs. He turns to his mates, but before he can even open his mouth to ask, they're already nodding at him in understanding. "Just make sure you both sleep tonight," says Sirius. He's still upset, but he's trying not to show. "And I mean actual sleep, Prongs, in separate beds with your eyes closed and your-"

"Please shut up," says James.

Sirius rolls his eyes. "For real though, make sure she rests soon, yeah?" he says. "And you, too. You both look bloody dead on your feet."

The red of Lily's hair is lost in the silhouettes of the night, but the lake sustains the green in her eyes. When James sits beside her, she makes no sign of noticing him. He doesn't say anything for a while. He's not sure where to begin, really.

The water is surprisingly warm around their legs, and the night is as clear as when they left it before. They watch Mary's paper cranes glide slowly down the water, the mirrored lights rippling on the surface beneath them like memories disturbed.

"I thought I couldn't be any more selfish with you, you know," she says quietly.

James knows what she means at once. "Evans, we can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"I know that, James, it's just-I can't lose someone else today. Especially not you. You can't too, can you? We both need a pause in all this."

"Can't lose especially me," he repeats. "Didn't get rid of me entirely then?"

She frowns. "Okay, fine. Last night... It wasn't..." She stops, tilting her head sideways in thought.

James's throat tightens. "What, not real? Doesn't count?"

"No," she says firmly. She fixes him a solid stare. "I want you to know that it wasn't... It is a mistake, you know that. But I don't-I don't regret it."

They don't break gaze. Of course, she's done this before-look him squarely in the eye and say something that she claims is the truth-but he believes her now, and he believes that he's believing rightly so. After a considerable number of seconds, James goes for his own truth, irrational and irrelevant to the conversation as it may be, in a tone as firm and final as hers just has been: "I love you."

Lily's mouth falls slightly open, but she recovers quickly and looks away (so he does too). "I know," she says.

"And you feel the same way." It's not a question.

"Do I?"

"Stop. You do. You said so last night."

"I didn't."

He shrugs. "You might as well have."

Silence.

"I get it now," he says. "We can't be together. It's okay."

More silence. Lily doesn't move, but James notices her gaze drop from the horizon to her lap. "I mean it's not, of course," he amends. God, of course it's not. "But I understand now why you did it. Sort of." Still nothing. Sighing, he caps it off with, "I reckoned I don't want you unsure either."

"Of what I feel?" she asks, just when he was feeling like it's going to be just him and his monologue.

"Nah, you're already sure about that." (She doesn't correct him.) "Of what you deserve, I think. Or what I deserve. You have this... I don't know. You think we're not right for each other, because you see yourself a burden or something. I don't know, I kind of suck at this... What I'm trying to say is that, I'm not going to try and make you believe otherwise anymore. I can't tell you I'm right for you. I might very well not be. And I'm... I don't regret it, too. Last night. But it's also not going to happen again."

There is another pause, longer this time, punctuated only by an owl hooting in the distance. And then, startlingly, Lily starts chuckling softly to herself. "Sounds like you're breaking up with me, Potter."

In spite of himself, a small smile tugs at his lips. "Yep. We're over, Evans. Have a nice life and all that."

"It was fun."

"Damn right, it was."

Lily sighs. "It's... not that, though."

Moment gone, James thinks. Alright. "Oh. Well. Okay."

"What if I hurt you again?"

"Yeah, I don't doubt that you're capable of that," he tells her, trying to sound less of a loser by laughing it weakly out. "I think, even if we won't mean to, that if we force it right now-this, you and me-we'll just go back to hurting ourselves. And I know that you didn't mean it, all those things you said that night, I know that now. I know I hurt you, too. But I also know why you felt you had to do it, and that's... If I didn't let my anger get ahead of me then, as I usually do, and-and the pain, I guess-I would have seen how that would have still been a problem, you being unsure of us. In a way I was actually making you unhappy with that."

"That's not your fault."

"Yeah, well. Still."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He blinks at the stars. Trying not to appear too hopeful, he says, "Maybe someday?"

"James, I don't want you to-"

"No, I didn't mean-I know you don't want me to wait for you. That's what this is about after all, isn't it? Me not putting my life on hold, not risking myself out there... but I just love you. And that doesn't-that's not a causal thing. It's just fact, alright? Like, there's a war, my dad's gone, Wormtail's shit at crosswords, I love you. All random, independent facts. Not a question for you to answer, or an imposition-god, I hope it's not sounding like an imposition-not a request. It's just... there. I love you. And I'm here. You don't have to do anything. I don't either. It's just there until-till you're back, I suppose. Or gone. Or maybe until I don't anymore, who knows? I dunno. But right now I'm living with it and that's okay. I love you."

"Please stop saying that," says Lily, wiping her damp cheeks with her knuckles.

"Sorry," he says, laughing nervously, his own eyes stinging. "I sound like a prat, don't I?"

"A drunk one," she says, laughing with him. She takes a deep breath. "Just too much," she sighs. "For you and me both."

"Don't worry, Evans, I can handle it," he says with a smirk, and then puts an arm around her and draws her close to him because she's sobbing now, full-on, and she clings on to his shirt and buries her wet face into his chest. "Hey, I'm not mad anymore, yeah? You have to know that. I'm not mad at you anymore..."

She doesn't deserve this, she thinks, she doesn't deserve this boy and his warmth and his forgiveness, not after everything, that night and last night and all the painful pages in between. "I'm really sorry," she says when she resurfaces and can speak properly again, feeling so, so rubbish for not having anything else to offer for now. "For everything. For being scared."

"We all are, I think," says James, brushing her hair out of her face and rubbing her arms comfortingly. "But we won't always be." Lily wonders if he truly believes that.

A shooting star streaks through the sky above them, but they only see it through its reflection on the lake. It leaves a broken, hazy trail on the water, gone in a second among straggly lights and drifting paper cranes. All the same, Lily closes her eyes and wishes on it, while the only boy she ever loved looks silently on: We won't always be scared.