I'll Fight For You
By Hazelmist/Summerskies
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling, except the Adams and the Crowleys.
Chapter 16: Shades of Grey
"Lily, wake up."
Someone gently shakes me awake. I open my eyes, blinking in the dimly lit room. A crack of sunlight escapes from the shade, flooding the face of the person hovering over me. The light glances off of James's glasses, hiding his lovely hazel eyes.
"James?" I ask groggily. It feels like only seconds ago I laid my head down and went to sleep, but now apparently it's morning, or afternoon, or whatever. The shade's shut so I can't tell.
"She's up now," he says, turning to someone else behind him.
"Thanks, James," Alice whispers. Alice? That can't be right. "Are your parents back yet?" Alice asks and I sit up hastily, peering around James.
"No, but we heard from them. They're fine," James replies, moving away from the bed and giving me a full view of my dear friend Alice - who I was under the impression I had left at the station, heading home to stay with her family and then Frank. But now she stands at the end of my bed, clutching a wrinkled newspaper to her chest.
"Alice!" I open my arms and she hugs me.
"Long time no see," I laugh, pulling away.
Alice gives me a strained smile and a forced laugh that comes out sounding like a cough. Her eyes contain confusion and fear, and it worries me that her good-natured face is now lined with a rare frown.
"Why are you here?" I ask, concerned.
Alice opens and closes her mouth several times, bending and rolling the newspaper. Finally, she miserably avoids my eyes, shoving her precious newspaper at me. The Daily Prophet unfurls, sliding off the bed. I retrieve it from the edge as Alice buries her face in her hands. Over the top of her head I can see James conversing softly with Gracie in the doorway. The two of them glance at us and then Gracie walks out of the room.
Slowly, I look down at the winking photograph.
I gasp.
My serial killer - the wanna-be-dementor - leers at me from the front page. He chases a wounded, screaming woman out of the frame. They stumble over bodies and other black hooded figures, dressed the same as their fellow cult members. They bump into hysterical Ministry officials and overturn tables, causing havoc in the back of the frame. A chandelier falls and smashes to the floor and spells zip left and right as people fall and get back up over and over again. My hands clench, the newspaper crunching between my trembling hands.
"What is this?" I ask fearfully, but my eyes move to the headline answering my own question.
DEATH EATERS MAKE AN APPEARANCE AT ANNUAL YULETIDE MINISTRY BALL
14 PEOPLE DEAD, SOME STILL MISSING, ALMOST 100 INJURED.
"Oh Lily, it's awful! My parents were there, so were the Longbottoms, the Potters and Mr. Crowley!" Alice moans from beside me.
I stare transfixed at the photograph, hardly listening. This was the man who had almost killed me - a man who's one of many wreaking havoc among the Wizarding World by murdering innocent people. This man could've killed Gracie's family. These…Death Eaters are a group of mad killers on the loose and they don't seem to be too picky about their targets. What's going on? I don't understand…
"Mr. Crowley didn't make it."
"What?" My head snaps up, but it's James who asks the question.
"Tiffany's dad, he was killed in the attack," Alice's voice quivers and she takes deep breaths to prevent herself from breaking down.
Several minutes later, I finally find my voice again.
"That would explain her behavior," I murmur. "And why she's at Hogwarts…"
"She's at Hogwarts?" Alice asks me.
I nod.
"I didn't think to look there. She must've heard the news and gone there. She was staying with her mother after all. Tiffany knew that Remus would be at Hogwarts, and she probably caught the first train back. It actually makes sense now. I don't know why I didn't think of that myself. Here I was having a nervous break down all morning, going crazy trying to locate her and all this time she's been at Hogwarts with Remus. Oh, I was so worried, I thought she might have been hurt or…"
Alice catches her breath, meeting my eyes for only a brief moment before lowering them to the floor. She looks as if she might burst into tears at any moment. I feel her pain, not so much the crying part, but the confusion and the fear that surrounds the chaotic flashing photograph on the front page. I throw the covers off, sliding down the bed to her side. I put my arm around her and give her shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"Did you owl her?" I ask.
"Yes." Alice nods.
"She didn't answer?"
"No, but Remus will take care of her," Alice reassures herself. I share a look with James, knowing that Remus won't be around for at least another two days and Tiffany's on her own. Well, unless you count Peter, but he's useless. He probably doesn't even know that she's there or that something terrible has happened.
"Come on, Alice, you can stay with us for breakfast," James says gently from the doorway.
"I should get going-" Alice mumbles as James helps her up and leads the way to the kitchen. I grab my dressing gown and hurry after them.
Gracie and Sirius sit at the breakfast table still in their dressing gowns and pajamas, each nursing a cup of tea. James pulls out two chairs for us and sits down beside me. I smile gratefully up at him.
"Want tea?" Gracie asks Alice and me groggily, making an effort to be polite, but she's still half asleep.
"Sure," I reply, glancing at Alice who's got the newspaper back in her hands again and is fiddling with it nervously.
"Teddy, can you get us another two cups?" Gracie asks politely.
"Right away!" a voice squeaks in reply and I hear the sound of porcelain cups clinking and tea being poured.
"How'd you get here?" James asks Alice conversationally.
"Floo Powder," she replies.
"They didn't go into lock down and shut off the network?" Gracie asks curiously.
"They did but they opened it about an hour ago. A lot of people were too weak to Apparate, so they were forced to open the network. Thank you." Alice takes her tea, sipping on it for a moment before putting it back down.
"Miss, your tea." Someone tugs at my sleeve, holding out the teacup to me.
"Thanks." Absently, I accept the cup, holding it in both hands, soaking up the warmth.
"Will that be all, Master James?" the squeaky voice asks again, causing me to do a double take because it's not human.
"Yes, Teddy, I think we can manage it from here." James nods.
I follow James's eyes, watching as a small creature walks around the table and leaves through the door. Dressed in a comfortable grey jacket and a pair of pants, I would've sworn it was an ordinary child if only it hadn't had pointed ears and large bulging yellow eyes.
I choke on my tea.
"Are you okay?" James asks immediately.
I nod, coughing and spluttering as I attempt to swallow.
"I'm fine," I croak, swallowing another gulp of my tea in an attempt to wash it down.
"It's probably the tea; we hired Teddy in September and he can't get the tea right, not that I care. I miss Faye, she was able to make it just right; it's a shame she died just before we left for school."
"Faye?" I splutter, spinning around to look at where the creature disappeared to.
"Yeah, she was the family house-elf. Mom said that Faye would be the last house-elf, since I'm almost out of the house, but she changed her mind and hired Teddy to take care of some things." James shakes his head and takes another swallow of his tea.
"Do they all look like that?" I ask curiously, still staring after "Teddy."
"What do you mean?" Gracie asks, frowning.
"House-elves, do they all have those eyes?" I continue, something coming together and clicking inside of my head. The bulging yellow eyes scare me because I know that I've seen them somewhere before…
"Oh, I suppose so." James gives me a funny look, but Gracie chuckles, nudging Sirius and whispering something in his ear. Sirius grins and whispers to James.
"Muggle thing, sorry. forgot." James smiles at me.
"It's all right; are they like your pets?" I ask carefully.
"Not exactly," Gracie answers.
POP!
A windswept dark haired woman materializes in the kitchen. For a split second I wonder if it's the ghostly apparition that I saw in the graveyard, but she flies to James and envelopes him in a bone-crushing hug.
"Mom!" Relief sounds in James's voice as he hugs her back.
"Where's Dad?" he asks eagerly as Mrs. Potter moves onto her niece and Sirius. Unable to choose between the two, she decides to crush them both, resulting in a painful head knocking for Gracie and Sirius and intimate cheek rubbing. Gracie and Sirius both manage to free themselves, Gracie blushing and Sirius discreetly avoiding her gaze.
"Oh, he's busy with work; there's a lot of clean up work to be done and new security shields to be put up and probes and investigations…" She shakes her head and swoops down upon me. For a moment I can't breathe and then she notices Alice and stops.
"Hello, Mrs. Potter. I'm on my way out; I only stopped in for breakfast," Alice says, hastily rising from her chair.
"That's fine, stay as long as you like. What's your name again?" she asks, studying her.
"Alice, Alice Reynolds," Alice replies shyly.
"I knew I saw the resemblance. Tell your mother that I hope her arm heals quickly," Heather adds as Alice heads for the fireplace.
"I will." Alice takes a pinch of powder and disappears in a swirl of green flames.
The kitchen falls into silence as the last of the flames turn to ashes and disappear. Mrs. Potter sits down in Alice's vacant chair, summoning a cup of tea with a wave of her wand. She sips on it, scrutinizing us over the lip of the cup.
"You all look as if you've had a rough morning, too," she breaks the unbearable silence at last.
Rough morning? Try waking up in a tomb and see how peppy you feel when the sun comes up.
"Tiffany Crowley's dad died," Gracie explains.
"Oh, I forgot she was one of your friends," Heather whispers, barely suppressing a yawn. "I'm sorry, but I haven't slept a wink all night. We were transferred to St. Mungo's, and they wouldn't let us leave. I knew you four would be fine, but I was worried that you might try to contact us; they weren't letting any owls in and we only got to send one out…" she trails off, shuddering, perhaps remembering the horrors of that night.
"Get some rest, Auntie Heather," Gracie urges her.
"I think I might." She kisses Gracie and James's head absently, and yawning retreats to her bed.
I turn to James, recalling something important that I was supposed to ask about before his mother's arrival. James lowers his cup, giving me his full attention. His hazel eyes look almost golden in this light and I wonder vaguely why I've never noticed such an unusual and becoming color in his eyes before. Lately, I've started noticing several things about James, beginning with the fact that his eyes change colors depending on the light or the room or even his emotions…
"What?" James asks softly, automatically running a hand through his hair.
"Nothing." I turn away, embarrassed, especially since one look in his eyes caused me to forget whatever I had to say to him-and everything else for that matter. I feel James's eyes upon me and I believe I'm blushing.
Seeking a distraction, I pull Alice's discarded newspaper toward me. My unsuccessful serial killer leers up at me from the moving photograph, so lifelike that it seems tangible. I can almost hear the screaming, smell the fire, feel the panic and the fear. The headline screams at me and I get the strangest feeling that this isn't the end, but merely the beginning of something terrible…
I shudder and flip it over so I don't have to look at it but there's no escape, even on the back page where the long list of deaths spills over.
THE OBITUARIES
Crowley, Timothy. 47
…one of the many victims of last night's attack - which has now been confirmed to be the work of the Adam's murderers - Mr. Crowley was a devoted and valued employee of the Ministry of Magic as well as a loving father to his daughter, Tiffany…
The movement at the table stops. Three other pairs of eyes stare at the page, frozen. A few moments pass in silence before Gracie gets up from her seat and abruptly leaves the room. Sirius watches her go, and silently goes over to refill his teacup at the stove. He takes a sip, dumps the rest down the sink and leaves the room as well.
James and I remain with the paper sitting between us like a firewall. I'm entranced, my eyes traveling down to read about the deaths of Thomas, Samuel. 19 who would've turned twenty today and McKinnon, Marlene. 36 who had five young children. The list continues and at the top of it all is a small winking photograph of a smiling curly-haired, middle-aged man with his arms wrapped around a laughing younger version of Tiffany. My eyes burn and I can't read anymore. I don't want to read anymore.
Suddenly, James seizes the paper and hurls it across the room. It smacks into the frosty kitchen windowpane before dropping into the wet sink.
I jerk out of my trance, my eyes snapping to him.
"I hate them," he whispers, glaring at the sink it disappeared into, as if it's the newspaper's fault.
I look at his clenched fists, his tense muscles, and the fire burning in his now brown eyes. If only our anger, grief, and pain could be wielded as a weapon, they wouldn't stand a chance. But things don't work out like that, not in this world.
Without thinking, I lean across the table and kiss his cheek.
James looks at me, the anger and hatred immediately fading and all of the wounds suddenly healing. I stare into those gorgeous eyes, barely comprehending what I've just done.
"I'm sure we're not the only ones," I tell him softly.
"I'm sure," James echoes, watching as I stand up and push my chair in.
Suddenly, I feel self-conscious standing in front of him, dressed in my dirty clothes that I wore yesterday to the tomb (I was too tired to change out of them) and a faded lavender dressing robe that's too short for me. I notice for the first time that he's already changed into fresh clothes and looks tired, but at the same time wide awake.
"Well, I'm going to bed," I say shyly. "Maybe you should, too," I suggest, noticing his tired eyes.
"Don't worry about me." James smiles up at me.
I hesitate but then turn and leave the room.
"Sweet dreams, Lily," he calls after me. And for some strange reason I smile.
*
Christmas, my favorite holiday of the year, was extremely disappointing. I wouldn't say it was the worse Christmas I've ever had - because Petunia wasn't with me, and that's always a plus - but I missed my parents, dreadfully. James's dad came in around nine in the morning and we all quietly exchanged gifts (Mrs. and Mr. Potter had been kind enough to get me a gift since my parents weren't aloud to send anything, and only Tiffany's gift was missing, since Remus had sent our gifts in advance.) Then he went to sleep for a few hours, got up and left for work again. Immediately after gifts were exchanged, Heather went to St. Mungo's to help with the victims of the Yuletide Ball accident and the families of the dead who were gathering to identify the bodies. Gracie, strangely enough, volunteered to go with her. Her aunt tried to talk her out of it, but Gracie, with a look of determination, got into the fireplace and left while Heather was still trying to convince her that it was a bad idea. Heather had sighed and Apparated there to join her.
James, Sirius and I stayed home and had a chess tournament. Sirius quickly got bored with the game. James and I were better at the game anyway, so we faced off and James let me win, until I yelled at him to stop. So, he did and I lost so horribly that I wished he hadn't stopped letting me win. Then I found out that he was cheating and I got mad and went to my room to do my homework and wrote letters to Tiffany and Alice instead. I should've gone with Gracie and her aunt; that would've been the right thing to do, but I didn't want to have to face those families, especially Tiffany. Gracie's whole world fell apart when her family was murdered and my heart broke because I was helpless. I couldn't bear to go through that again. I should've known though, that eventually I would have to face her - like right now - at Mr. Crowley's funeral.
The black robes stand out in sharp contrast to the snow-covered ground and frost-covered trees. One thing seems to add to the proper funeral mood, though: everything's dead. The sky is an endless stretch of grey, and the grey, cracked tombstones seem to become a part of the sky so that if you look between the trees all you see is grey and you can't tell where the sky begins and the earth ends. A biting chill weasels its way into my toes and freezes my ivory fingers.
Tiffany had been there, crying openly, not caring who saw, but now her cries are mysteriously absent, and have been for some time. I look up my eyes passing over her hypocritical mother, who's dramatically wailing and sobbing onto the shoulder of an old man, a Ministry employee perhaps, whom looks rather uncomfortable with this strange woman who happens to be obviously faking her grief and the huge opposing bodyguard who hovers over her. Tiffany told us several times that her mother hated her dad and had walked out on him. I keep looking but Tiffany's not there.
"Guys," I whisper, elbowing James, who's beside me. "Where'd Tiffany go?"
"She's not here?" James frowns. Alice and Frank share a panicked glance and Gracie and Sirius look around frantically as the eulogy comes to an end and the people start lining up for a last view of the coffin. But Tiffany's gone M.I.A.
"Where is she?" I wonder aloud, as one after another people toss flowers over the black shining lid, and pass their hands lovingly over it.
"She's gone," a voice answers from behind us.
I whip around, and come face to face with Remus Lupin.
"Remus!" I gasp loudly, drawing a few glares from the people around us.
"What are you doing here?" Gracie hisses, perhaps taking notice of the dark circles surround his tired eyes and a fresh scar lining his cheek.
"The same thing you are, I'm attending the funeral of my friend's father," Remus replies, eyeing her curiously. He's probably wondering if she knows about his "furry little problem" as I've often heard James refer to it before.
"I know but you-"
"Never mind that," Remus interrupts, his eyes once again lingering on Gracie and then moving to James and Sirius who carefully avoid his eyes. "She's gone. I looked and she's not here."
"Oh no," Alice moans, fresh tears filling her eyes.
"Shhh..." Frank whispers soothingly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He rubs her back comfortingly even as his face betrays the panic that he's feeling.
"But I think I saw someone leaving when I came in," Remus continues thoughtfully. "It might've been her, but I saw her from a distance…"
"Which way?" I ask.
Remus points off toward a grove of trees, where there's a monument honoring a forgotten dead soldier and several benches set up. Tiffany's father was only a Half-blood so this was actually a Muggle graveyard. I grab James's arm and follow Remus toward the granite benches and the crumbling soldier, who's proudly waving Britain's flag and riding a horse. Our feet crunch through the new snow, but I quickly notice a line of footprints about my size leading to the grove and gain a little bit of hope.
When we enter we find it empty, except for one lone black figure huddled on a bench where the footprints disappear. Her back's to us, but there's no denying that mane of curling yellow hair. She's hunched over staring at the ground, concentrating on clearing snow from a patch of grass with the toes of her shiny black shoes.
Remus stops, inhaling sharply as if suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. Gracie and the others catch up to us, stopping as well to take in the sight of the fallen Tiffany Crowley, who ironically sits in the shadow of a deteriorating memorial of a once-brave fighter. This heartless Death Eater king is felling the bold, the beautiful and the brave. Even as I look at Tiffany, I see Gracie crumbling in my arms, so weak she's unable to walk or stand on her own and yet she was so strong.
Why are they doing this? How could they be so cruel?
Cautiously, we approach Tiffany, who continues to dig through the snow with her foot. Her eyes are narrowed, all of her efforts being poured into this mundane, needless task of exposing the dead grass beneath the half foot of snow. She's trying to take her mind off of it, or perhaps this is some strange way of channeling the grief, pain and anger that I saw reflected in Gracie and James's eyes not too long ago.
Remus boldly sits down beside her and Gracie hesitantly takes the remaining space on the other side.
"Tiffany," Gracie whispers.
Tiffany furiously kicks at the snow as if she's deaf to the world, but when Remus bravely moves his hand to her shoulder, she stops suddenly. Slowly, she lifts her head, as if suddenly noticing that there is someone beside her. Her eyes lock with Remus and a look of shock crosses her face, temporarily shrouding the heartfelt wounds blazing in her eyes.
"You came," she breathes.
Remus nods and Gracie takes Tiffany's hand. Tiffany whirls, noticing Gracie for the first time, and then she looks up and sees me, James and Sirius standing in front of her. Alice squeezes Tiffany's shoulder, and she looks over her shoulder, up at Alice and Frank at her back.
"You came, you all came," Tiffany whispers, looking tearfully around at all of us. A watery smile crosses her face, even as she dissolves into tears. She crumples and Remus and Gracie catch her on either side in a protective embrace.
And I realize then that while Gracie had James and her aunt and uncle, Tiffany only had one person - her father - and that one person was gone. The laughing photograph of Tiffany and her father from the obituaries flashes through my mind as Tiffany reaches out for me. She hugs us one by one, and then sits back down between Gracie and Remus, safe amongst the seven of us, her closest friends.
"Thank you," she whispers earnestly, through her tears. "Thank you for coming."
And I know that she means it. Our arrival and appearance means the world to her because we're all she has left now, we are her world.
*
Tiffany, Remus, Alice and Frank were all invited back to James's house. Frank politely turned down the offer, reminding us with a slump of his shoulders of his overbearing mother's strict rules. Alice predictably went with him. Remus and Tiffany were easily persuaded to return to the house. Tiffany, though, seemed to change her mind shortly after we arrived.
"I want to go home," Tiffany says suddenly, while we're sitting around in front of the fireplace in the room that James once brought me to, that night after the Adam's funeral.
You can't go home, I want to tell her. I grit my teeth, remembering that I can't go home either. Neither can Gracie, but amongst her relatives she's made a new home for herself, and in a way, perhaps I, too, have set the Potter household up as a temporary shelter. They've become a substitution for the family who, for their own protection or mine, cannot be with me on this holiday. My parents flash through my mind and I feel the familiar swell of homesickness. Hastily, I take a huge swallow of butterbeer, the images of my parents fleeing my mind.
"Tiffany, I don't think it would be a good idea to go back there," Remus answers carefully.
"No. I don't want to go there," Tiffany replies, placing a distasteful emphasis on the word there. "She'll be there," Tiffany spits the words out as if washing out a bad taste in her mouth.
"But I thought you said-" Remus begins but Tiffany scowls and interrupts.
"I inherited everything, or I would've, but I don't turn seventeen until July and now that my father's dead, my mother has full custody of me for the next seven months," she explains, miserably staring down at her butterbeer as if a spider just crawled into it.
"So you have to live with your mother this summer?" Gracie asks, openmouthed.
Tiffany sniffs and nods. She traces the rim of the untouched mug with one finger, her hair falling into her eyes. The rest of us fidget uncertainly and even Gracie, who's been particularly helpful, seems to be at a loss for words.
"I'll take you back," Remus offers.
Tiffany lifts her head and looks at him. She stares at him for a long time before nodding, with what might've been a weak smile.
"Thank you," she says, putting aside the mug and getting to her feet.
"No problem, I have to go back to see Madam Pomfrey anyway…" Remus gets to his feet as well, and the rest of us follow with a feeling of helplessness.
"What? You're leaving?" Sirius asks, alarmed. "But Moony, you just got here!" Gracie claps a hand over his mouth, efficiently shutting him up.
"What Sirius means to say, is that you're welcome to stay here, Tiffany and Remus. We have plenty of room here and you know that we'd enjoy the company," Gracie interrupts Sirius's muffled protests with a genuine smile.
Tiffany painfully makes an attempt to smile and convey some acceptable excuse, but the truth is she feels awkward here, and she wants to go home, and Hogwarts is like a second home to us all. I know exactly how she feels because I was there once not too long ago, but I adjusted, somehow, to living in Potter's house, of all places.
"Ow!" Gracie suddenly jumps away from Sirius, cradling the hand that had been serving as a muzzle around Sirius's mouth only seconds before.
"What are you trying to do, eat me?" she growls to Sirius under her breath, as we follow Tiffany and Remus to the fireplace to see them off.
"You were trying to suffocate me," Sirius complains.
"You bit me!"
"Mmm-hmm and you taste good, like croissants and butterbeer…"
Gracie stares at Sirius, a little afraid of this reaction, which was definitely not what she was expecting. She wipes her hand on her robe, glaring at him. Sirius licks his lips, a slow grin spreading across his face. Gracie's eyes widen and she turns away scowling.
Tiffany and Remus hug each of us, and we say good-bye and wish them a happy new year. We'll be seeing them in a few days, of course, but these days, you never know what might happen in a matter of hours…
They disappear together in a whirl of green flames. As the fire goes out and the ashes float back down, Gracie turns on Sirius, picking up the argument right where they left off.
"You took a chunk out of my hand!" she cries, holding up her palm for all of us to see, where there is in fact a miniscule red dot, which might or might not have been the result of Sirius's molars.
I close my eyes. I'm not in the mood for this. At one point it might've amused me, but now it's only causing my head to pound. A hand brushes over the back of my robe and my eyes open. James leans close to me, his lovely eyes - now a shade of olive green - connecting with mine. Not for the first time, I wonder, looking into those eyes, if there's some sort of invisible bond between us.
"Do you want to go for a walk?" he asks, his eyes darting in Gracie and Sirius's direction before coming back to my own.
"I would love to."
He grabs my hand, pulling me from the kitchen and out the back door. Gracie and Sirius - who are now arguing about what Gracie's hand tastes like - fail to notice us as we make our oh-so-discreet escape, allowing the door to slam behind us.
"How long do you think it'll take them to notice that we've left?" I wonder aloud.
"They probably won't," James snorts and I laugh.
Over the past couple of days Sirius and Gracie had been acting extremely weird around each other. Ever since we came out of the tomb, something seemed to have changed between them. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was almost as if Sirius, well… liked Gracie. I don't mean like, as in like, like as a friend, I mean like, really liking someone. Could Sirius possibly like Gracie? Did he like her in the dating, ask to Hogsmeade, snog or shag kind of way? I thought I was going crazy when I saw the little gestures he made, like rushing to sit next to her, and being the first to get her a second scone or a cup of tea, and the staring thing was getting a little creepy. I even noticed him stroking her hair one day, so lightly that Gracie probably didn't even notice, at least I don't think she noticed, because she let him continue doing it for quite some time, and I never thought of Gracie as someone who would fall for Sirius but maybe…
At least now I know that I'm not going mad and hallucinating, since James noticed too, though it's not that comforting, considering I'm comparing my sanity to James's.
"They'll notice when we go back to Hogwarts; Gracie will be wondering why I'm not in the dorm, and Sirius will be looking for you, too," I point out.
"I was planning on merely a walk, kidnapping you for maybe an hour or two depending on how cold it is, but if you want we can run off together. I don't have any objections to that." James grins mischievously.
"Yeah, we'll elope," I tell him sarcastically.
"Okay, let's go!" James teases, breaking into a run.
I roll my eyes and drag my feet, forcing him to walk again, since he's reluctant to let go of my hand-which I'm holding for warmth reasons only, since I have no gloves and James's hand happens to be very warm and surprisingly soft in my own.
"I'm only sixteen, James. It's illegal," I explain, keeping the joke alive, since I like the way my face feels as it splits into a rare grin and I enjoy watching James's face light up, his eyes dancing with laughter.
"Lily, I live to break the rules," he tells me with a devilish grin that I find strangely becoming on his already too-handsome-for-his-own-good face.
"Well, I don't."
"That's because you're Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, Perfect, Prefect Lillian Evans," James says in a sing-song voice.
"I am not!" I protest, stopping and pulling him around to face me.
"You're at the top of our class, you spent the first five years at Hogwarts trying to get me and my friends in trouble, and you've already been picked for Head Girl, no questions asked. Don't try to deny it, Lily, because I know that if there's anyone who's going to try to make me follow the rules, it's going to be you." James smirks.
My face grows hot, and I realize that I'm blushing, because I can't deny it; I can't even come up with a half decent excuse.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with following the rules," I finally say lamely.
James starts laughing.
"Rules are made to keep order, and they should be followed. No one gets hurt when the rules are followed and the world's a lot better off with them." I give him an admonishing look, but my words slide off James like water on wax.
"Ah, but when we abide by the rules, we miss out on so much. The only time you can ever have fun or truly live is when you break them," James defends himself.
"Are you saying I'm dead?" My eyebrows move together, an involuntary frown creasing my face with a twist of my mouth.
"No!"
"You think I'm boring?" I ask biting my lip, because suddenly I feel oddly hurt by this accusation.
"Of course not!" James exclaims.
I stare hard at the snow, gripping my wand tightly with my free hand.
"I think you could lighten up a bit. Perhaps break a rule or two…"
I glare down at the snow, James's words causing me to flare up so much that my wand arm twitches, my wrist flicking.
"Because you have to admit, Lily, you're strict, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you're-"
SMACK!
James's eyes pop, and his hand flies to his cheek. I catch my breath, staring at my wand, which is still pointed at his cheek. My anger got the better of me and as a result, some of the snow - which was initially at my feet - somehow made it to James's burning cheek. I have no idea how that happened. Honestly, I'm completely innocent. My wrist flicked impulsively and the snow just happened to go to his cheek.
He wipes it off but some of it melts, dripping down his neck and getting beneath his cloak.
"Good aim." He grins, looking at me, impressed. "I'll admit, Lily, I didn't know you had it in you to be such a rebel," he adds tauntingly.
"Shut up," I grumble, tucking my wand back into my pocket. Hurriedly, I start walking ahead, feeling extremely stupid and very childish.
"But unfortunately, you're forgetting something."
Oh god, he's never going to let me live this down. I've officially proved to him that I have the mentality of a tattle-tailing seven-year-old teacher's pet by throwing snow at him with my wand for Merlin's sake.
"What's that?" I ask, while I search silently for a place to dig a hole in the snow and never come out.
What was I thinking? I wasn't, that's the problem; I never think when James is around. My brain goes on vacation when he walks into the room and I'm governed by these silly, rude, foolish impulses that always lead to-
THWACK!
Something cold and wet hits me hard on my buttocks. I shriek and whirl around to find James smirking mercilessly. He grabs the lower branch of a tree, bogged down with frost and snow, lazily tossing a second expertly formed snowball in his free hand.
"Rule number one. Never, ever, turn your back on a Marauder."
With one hand still on my burning cheeks, I flick my wand, conjuring up a second haphazard snowball. My aim is horrible and it falls uselessly in the snow a few short yards away. James laughs and sends the second snowball my way. I duck, but not fast enough. I gasp as the snowball lands in my hair and my wand drops, disappearing into the snow. The cold snow wets my precious locks as I plunge my hands into the snow, frantically searching for my wand. But the snow's caught between my neck and sweater, and I can feel it melting even as my fingers go numb. James's laughter rings in my ears.
"POTTER!" I splutter, getting to my feet.
I lunge at him. James hastily jumps out of the way, letting go of the branch. The branch swings back, dumping all of the snow that was weighing upon it, off. The snow rains down on me and I scream as I'm swallowed up by a mini avalanche of frosted flakes. The limb sways in an invisible breeze, emptying the last of it's baggage onto my head. James gapes, obviously shocked by this stroke of luck. The snow piled around me, forming a mini snow bank. Instead of my ankles, the snow now reaches well past my knees, and a layer at least a couple of inches thick dusts my shoulders and the top of my hair.
I moan as the snow starts to seep through my clothes, sending chills through my body. I've become the abominable snow woman, and I feel like I'm about to turn into an ice cube. Carefully, I start to free one of my legs, hoping to prevent more snow from getting underneath my robes and into my shoes, which I unwisely chose instead of boots. Did I mention that I'm still dressed for the funeral, meaning I'm wearing a skimpy dress robe and a cloak! James watches me with a look of amusement on his face. He clutches his side and I realize it's because he's laughing. Damn him, he's laughing at me!
"Rule number two. Never, ever, challenge a Marauder to a snowball fight." Then he lets loose, laughing wildly, though he makes a half hearted attempt to hide it. "Lily, you look like the Ice Queen!"
I grit my teeth, but a growl escapes.
"The prettiest ice queen I've ever seen," he adds quickly, offering me a hand that I stubbornly refuse to accept. I give up on trying to extract my foot from the snow, and erupt from my frozen throne.
James turns his back on me, but I can hear him chortling. He rummages around in the snow, retrieving what looks like a giant icicle but must've been at one point, my beloved wand. Angrily, I grab it from him. I use it to aid me in brushing the snow off my cloak; like a lint roller, it goes after the flakes, but unfortunately it doesn't have quite the same satisfying effect.
"Allow me." James gives me a sympathetic look, though his mouth twitches suspiciously. "But the snow's so becoming on you," he sighs sadly, as he reluctantly lifts his wand and aims it at me. I give him a murderous glare and he speeds up considerably, sending a wave of warmth over me as the snow melts into droplets and evaporates. I shake out my robes and my hair, still feeling uncomfortably damp, but at least now my wand's functioning and I have feeling in my fingers. I flex them experimentally.
"Are you still cold?" James asks hesitantly. I turn sharply towards him, my eyes narrowing to slits.
"What do you think Sherlock?" I snarl.
"Erm, yes?" he mumbles, timidly sidestepping me.
I stomp off, balling my hands into fists. Anger radiates from me and perhaps for once Potter's actually feeling the aura and getting the message because he walks silently a few steps beside me.
"Lily?"
I don't answer but I slow down, stiffly folding my arms over my chest. I send him another glare over my shoulder but James fails to comprehend the meaning of this facial expression, proving my original theory wrong; he is still a thick headed git.
"Do you want my cloak?"
Stupid git, he never gets it. What do I have to do, throw a brick at him? Yell? Punch him in the face? No, I wouldn't want to do anything to that cute face of his. Cute? Since when did I find Potter even remotely attractive? His cockiness penetrates even those lovely eyes of his, giving him an ugliness that for some odd reason only I can truly see. No, I refuse to go soft on Potter, but I'll spare his face, just this once, because I wouldn't want his fan club after me.
What? I swear that's the only reason! Potter's fan club is like a pack of rabid animals; they swarm all over you and they'll never let you rest in peace, ever. I know, they're a group of ditzy girls who were born brainless (I mean, they find Potter likable for Merlin's sake, there must be something wrong with them), but they can get vicious when you hurt their "God." It's like that movie I saw with the guy in the midst of a pack of hungry lionesses, except picture perfume and magical cosmetic and hair products. You wouldn't believe how hazardous they are. Trust me, I almost died in third year after Potter walked into a boil hex. Honestly, I had no idea that he would be right there, it just happened, like now for example…
"Oof!"
Suddenly, James stumbles and falls on his arse. He must've slipped on some ice. It was an accident, a total accident. He was just too busy staring at me. Granted, I could've caught him, but my reflexes aren't good, you know. I try my best to feign sympathy as James sits up groaning, muttering about how he didn't see any ice.
"Oh my gosh, Potter! Are you okay?" I ask sweetly, but James isn't fooled for an instant.
"You tripped me!" He points an accusing finger at me.
"Me? Sweet, innocent, goody-two-shoe Lily Evans the Prefect? No. Potter, I think you're mistaken because I would never do such an unkind thing." I clasp my hands in front of me, smiling innocently down at his annoyed expression. He glares at me, and I flutter my eyelashes a bit. That does it-James suddenly bursts out laughing.
"You look like Sirius," he laughs. "When we've just pulled a huge prank on the Slytherins and McGonagall's caught us."
"I look nothing like Sirius!" I disagree, because we don't look anything alike. I have red hair and Sirius has black.
"You're right. You're much easier on the eyes, and a female I'm happy to notice - a gorgeous female." He gives me one of his famous seductive grins that he always uses one girls when he's about to bed them. Well, at least that's what I assume because obviously I don't know from experience because Potter and I would never get this far in a conversation.
James tries to get up, but he winces, clutching one of his ankles that he must've twisted in the fall. Cautiously, he puts a little weight on it, but a string of curse words seems to be the only progress since he lies back down in the cold snow a moment later.
I snigger, but I reluctantly go over to him. James looks up at me and holds up three fingers.
"Rule number three. Never piss off Ms. Evans," he recites from an invisible piece of parchment.
"What can I say, Potter, payback's a bi-"
"Yeah, it literally came back to bite me in the arse," James says sheepishly.
I laugh and kneel at his side. Grinning, I take out my wand. James shrinks back fearfully. He recoils, taking his injured ankle with him.
"Oh, stop being so dramatic!" I hit him playfully but give him a warm, reassuring smile.
James hesitantly sticks out his leg again. I touch his ankle gingerly, trying to find a good spot to aim the spell. James inhales sharply when I poke a particularly painful spot a little too energetically. Oops!
"Watch it, Evans, my life is in your hands," he teases, discreetly reminding me of the fact that his ankle really does hurt and that he could and probably would retaliate if I hurt him.
"Come now, Potter, with an innocent face like mine, how can you not trust me?" I give him a smile, my best imitation of Sirius's "It wasn't me, Professor," and James is distracted momentarily, rewarding me with a laugh and a spare moment to cast the healing spell and mend his ankle.
"All better."
I reach out and ruffle his already messed up hair, intending to treat him like the young child that he was acting like. James, though, always has better ideas, and while my hand's still discovering how unexpectedly soft his hair is, he decides to pull me down into the snow beside him.
"JAMES-" I would put in his middle name, but since I don't know it yet, I'll just have to skip that until I can find out. Blackmail. "-POTTER! How dare you!" I cry out shrilly, appalled by his audacity and the fact that, after all I did to him and he did to me, instead of wanting to smack him I have the strange desire to laugh.
"Rule number four. Don't mess with the hair," he explains, running a hand through his hair, only making it worse.
I stare at him, my hand halfway raised, ready for a quick journey to one of his smooth cheeks. The irony of the situation slaps me in the face like the cold snow beneath us and I give into a wave of helpless laughter.
"What? Is there something wrong with my hair?" he asks, worriedly patting down his hair.
I roll around in the snow, laughing hysterically. James watches me with a look of concern, nervously looking at his hand before putting it back into his hair again.
"You're impossible, James Potter!" I tell him, when I finally catch my breath. I clutch my sides, waiting for the spasms of a much-needed laugh to subside.
"Is that a compliment?" James risks a grin, and I giggle in response.
He lies down in the snow beside me, folding his arms and resting his unruly inky hair upon his interlaced fingers. I stop laughing, and he turns to me with a question in his gorgeous eyes which seem to have acquired a little bit of the snow, softening the golden brown to the color of hot chocolate mixed with a lot of melted marshmallows and milk. Just the way I like it.
I think I meant to say something witty, or perhaps I planned to come back with some clever form of revenge, but the snowy winter wonderland seemed to close around us and I was suddenly struck mute. I forgot about the freezing snow, which was currently seeping through my hair and clothes, both of which only minutes ago I had thoroughly dried and all of which was this deceivingly handsome boy's fault. I forgot about the fact that Potter was the very last person that I would want to date on the face of the earth, or let alone be in the same room with. I forgot about everything, my lips silently moving but no sound coming from them. My cheeks were flushed, my heart beating a little too quickly, and my stomach seemed to fill with butterflies.
"Are you okay, Lily?" James asks softly, bringing me back down to earth. We're still surrounded by this winter wonderland, which appears to be clouding my senses, crossing over into some childish fantastical tale that I was once obsessed with, something to do with an ice princess and the prince charming who finally melted her heart.
"I'm cold," I lie, because I'm not cold, though I should be. I'm very warm right now, and a lot of it has to do with the fact that James' shoulder is pressed against mine and I can feel the heat radiating off of him and off of my freakishly blushing rosy red face.
"I think I can take care of that problem." He shifts in the snow beside me, moving closer to me. I feel his arm go around my shoulders and my cheek being pressed against his chest. My face must be steaming. I think it's gone numb because it's so hot.
"Better?" he asks.
"Yes," I squeak, attempting to hide my face in the front of his cloak, so he won't see how hard I'm blushing.
"Good." If I'm not mistaken there was a tremor of amusement in his voice, or perhaps nervousness? Nah, James Potter is never nervous. But his heart beats so fast beneath my ear. I blush again. Damn the red hair and the pale skin, I blush so easily.
The rosy tinge fades, my face cooling. I have the chilling air and the mildly unpleasant feeling of snow in my robes to thank for that. My heart beat returns to normal, and I listen as James' slows its galloping pace as well. The silence takes over, and I close my eyes in contentment.
In the midst of this silent, peaceful winter wonderland, lying in the snow with James's arm around my shoulders and my head on his chest, I realize something.
For the first time in several weeks I feel safe and secure. I've found at last what my restless soul's been seeking in these last dark spiraling months; peace.
A/N: Hey it's Christmas in July! Actually it's August but that's beside the point. I'm going to try to update as soon as possible. THANKS FOR REVIEWING!
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