Unofficial Portkey Archive

I'll Fight For You

By Hazelmist/Summerskies

Disclaimer: Hope belongs to me and any other insane tendencies you might recognize in the characters.

A/N: Thanks to everyone that reviewed, I really appreciate it!

Chapter 19: Disguised

Light creeps into the room, crawling along the floor and splashing across the walls. I pull the only sheet that survived my restless night, up over my face in a weak attempt to fend off the blinding glare of the sun's merciless rays.

I forgot to shut the shade again.

Rolling over I stare up at the ceiling, which is now a brighter shade of white than when I last looked at it, ten minutes ago. Or was it ten seconds ago?

I have no idea.

All I know is even if I was tired - which I'm not - I wouldn't be able to sleep because I didn't think that I would need sunglasses in the middle of winter, so I didn't bring any. I don't even know if I own a pair of sunglasses. I think Alice stepped on my last pair…

I stuff my face in the pillow, hiding from my sunny fiend.

Maybe I'm a vampire.

Hey, you know, that's not such a crazy idea. I'm pale. My eyes can't handle the light. I was up ALL night and I still can't sleep. And it would explain why I actually liked it when James Potter kissed me.

I want his blood.

But wait...

Wouldn't I be like, dead? No, I'm already dead. I would be, um, suffering? Ugh, don't they teach us anything in Defense Against the Dark Arts? Oh wait, they don't. Never mind.

I throw back the flimsy sheet, letting it join the many other tangled and rumpled bed sheets and quilts that now carpet the floor, ringing around my bed. Once upon a time they were part of my bed, but I tossed and turned all night and apparently kicked off the entire bed spread.

Nice going.

I make up the bed quickly, thinking of how nice a shower would be. Yes, a shower, that's exactly what I need. The hot water will wash all these thoughts out of my silly deranged mind and cleanse me of any germs which I might have contracted from his many ex-girlfriends, which happen to include, the banshee. I think. I can't remember. When was the last time James had a girlfriend? When was the last time I even saw him flirting with another girl?

Stepping out of the shower, I think of how disturbing it is that I can't remember the answers to these questions. James Potter used to be a womanizer, a "player" as I heard Tiffany once giggle. Correction; he still is. I just don't pay attention to him enough, that's all. I mean, he's a jerk, why would I ever think about him, or care whether he had five girlfriends or five hundred? Well, he just kissed me and that would be disgusting if he'd had five hundred other girls who kissed him. That'd be like a breeding farm for deadly epidemics.

I shudder.

See, I had an excellent excuse for thinking about James's ex-girlfriends. Now if only I could figure out why I actually enjoyed the stupid kiss.

I dress quickly and check myself out in the mirror. I am awfully pale. Perhaps I am a vampire…

It just doesn't make any sense. Why would I like kissing him?

Maybe it was because it was my first kiss.

Or maybe Sirius and James placed love enchantments on it to make the girl enjoy the kiss! That's it. That has to be it. It's nothing more than a - erm - kissing love charm. I'll look it up when I get back to school and then I'll get revenge.

Perhaps I'll spare Sirius, but only if I'm in a really good mood.

Smiling, I hop down the last step and enter the kitchen. The clinking of silverware and the soft murmur of conversation pauses as I enter the room. Four pairs of eyes meet mine momentarily before returning with a nod of greeting or a small smile to the mundane tasks of the morning. But two hazel eyes refuse to look away.

James.

My breath hitches and hurriedly I lower my eyes.

I whisper a good morning, pretending as if James doesn't exist, and slip into the seat between my best friend and her Uncle, directly across from James. Stupid, stupid me. Now I have to look at him. Or maybe I can just sit here rearranging my silverware until I can figure out a way to get the juice, or even the plate of pancakes, which just so happen to be within his reach, but out of mine.

His eyes are still on me. I can feel them burning into my forehead. My cheeks flame.

I'm blushing.

Oh for Merlin's sake Lily, this is pathetic.

"Jam-Gracie can you please pass the juice." I mentally curse myself for the blunder, as Gracie shoots me a puzzled look before slowly passing me the juice.

I fill my glass and then hand it back to Gracie, who puts it back, but again shoots me another look because it would've been easier to have given it to James.

"J-Sirius can you please pass me the pancakes," I ask Sirius politely.

Gracie stares at me as if I've grown an extra head, noting again that James is within reach but Sirius is not. Sirius though, apparently notices nothing. He hands the plate over to James and I watch as the plate moves slowly from Sirius's hands to James's.

"Thank you," I say stiffly, holding out my hands for the plate. James hands me it, our hands brushing. I feel a spark and the same shiver run the length of my spine. My eyes snap to his, and James's eyes widen. I yank the plate away, and hurriedly pile as many pancakes as I can on my plate. Anything, to avoid his eyes. I figure that maybe if I make a high enough stack I won't have to look at him and those gorgeous hazel eyes.

A chair scrapes across the floor and I feel the table tremble as someone gets to their feet.

"Are you done already James?" Heather asks her son worriedly.

"Yeah," James mumbles.

I watch from behind my leaning tower of pancakes as James gathers up his plate and glass. I sneak a peek at his face. Again our eyes meet. James' hand fumbles with the glass.

CRASH!

"Oh dear!" Heather gasps clapping a hand to her mouth. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." James disappears, retrieving the shattered pieces in a moment's time. His father lazily whips out his wand, and summons the trash can so he can dump them inside. Red faced with embarrassment, James hurries off to the kitchen with his plate clutched firmly in both hands and the trash can in tow.

"The boy never gets enough sleep." Heather shakes her head with a sigh.

Danny quietly snickers behind The Daily Prophet, lowering it just enough so that he can wink at me as he turns the page. My cheeks flush and I quickly dig into my pancakes.

Underneath the table someone kicks my ankle. I wince and look up sharply.

"Can you please pass the pancakes?" Gracie asks pointedly.

I hand her the plate of pancakes, which she passes on untouched to Sirius. But I notice the look on her face screaming "We need to talk."

Oh, goody. I'm looking forward to it.

Best friends as you know can be dangerous, especially when they tell you "we need to talk". Because it translates to "you're keeping something from me and I know it and you're going to tell me or I'm going to forcefully extract it from your very soul."

I happen to be keeping two secrets from Gracie.

One, I got my first kiss, from her cousin.

And two, I met her mom last night, who happens to be not only very much alive, but living under the same roof, in the form of a teenage girl who's had half her memory blown to smithereens by evil people. And oh yeah, she's coming to Hogwarts, in disguise, and James and I, we're her secret keepers.

Oh yes, I am looking forward to best friend time. First she'll tease me mercilessly and then she'll go into cardiac arrest, kill me, or force Danny and Heather to kill me for letting the secret out. Joy.

"Lily?"

I lift my head and look past Gracie into Heather's concerned face.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asks in full maternal mode.

"Ye-"

"You're looking a bit ill." She reaches over Gracie, pressing a hand to my forehead. Worriedly, she takes my face into both of my hands, as if inspecting me for any further sign of fever or illness.

"Your face feels warm."

Um, maybe that's because everyone's staring at me, and Gracie and Sirius are silently, but obviously laughing at me.

"I'm-"

"You're very pale," she continues, dropping her hands.

I'm always pale, white happens to be the color of my skin.

"And I think you could use some rest, you look as if you didn't sleep at all last night."

Thanks to your son.

"Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap?" she advises, gently patting one of my hands.

I open my mouth to protest, but Gracie kicks me hard underneath the table.

"Just humor her, trust me," she mouths. Sitting across from her, Sirius catches my eye and nods vigorously.

Helplessly, I close my mouth and get up from my seat. I hesitate, looking mournfully down at my plate of practically untouched pancakes.

"But I didn't finish ea-"

"AL GEEET ET!" Sirius says between mouthfuls. I assume that this translates to "I'll eat it." or something along those lines because he snatches the plate out of my reach, despite the whole pancake he still has on his own syrup filled plate.

"Sirius you didn't even finish-" Gracie stops suddenly because Sirius swallows the last pancake whole. She makes a face as Sirius dumps the pancakes off of my plate, onto his and then bathes them in another downpour of syrup.

Disgusted, I feel my stomach churn and wonder vaguely if Heather's observations were true. Perhaps I really am sick. Maybe I was sick last night, and that's why my senses were, still are, out of control.

"Sirius," Gracie sighs.

Sirius instantly looks up, puzzled.

"Wha?" he asks giving us a mouthful, literally.

Gracie looks at him, and then shakes her head bemusedly, turning her attention back to her own unfinished breakfast.

I slip out of the kitchen, more than happy to head upstairs after losing my appetite entirely. I think I might skip lunch and dinner after witnessing Sirius' eating habits. It's no wonder James has no manners, check out his best friend.

Speaking of Sirius, I plan on having a very long talk with Grace about the sudden change in her relationship with our manner-lacking friend.

"We need to talk."

I think she's the one that needs to start talking.

I laugh quietly and open the door.

A nap sounds like a good idea actually, my bed's looking rather appealing since the weariness seems to be returning and Potter's been temporarily absent from my thoughts. I spoke too soon.

There's someone already occupying the bed.

"HEY!" I glare at Hope, who's sprawled across my bed.

Hope props herself up on an elbow with a lazy grin.

"Hello, Lily." She tilts her head, looking over the side of the bed at something. I frown, following her gaze to a pair of…legs?

"LIL - OW!"

The bed jolts and I hear a few muffled swears. The legs start wriggling, and suddenly I see an arse (a very good looking one) a back, shoulders, arms and finally, James Potter's head full of untidy hair, now complete with a collection of dust bunnies, as he climbs out from underneath the bed.

"JAMES!" I gasp.

"Hi, Lily," James laughs nervously, running a hand through his dusty hair.

Impulsively, I reach down and brush the dust from his hair. It's not a very becoming look. There, that's better. His hair's surprisingly soft considering the fact that it won't lie flat, and it really is black, not dark brown, but silky, midnight black…

Hope giggles and I notice that James's eyes have a kind of glazed look.

I realize that I'm still petting James like an animal in a petting zoo and that there isn't a speck of dust left in his hair. So cleverly covering my mishap, I angrily hit him upside the head.

"What were you doing under my bed?" I bark, straightening up and crossing my arms over my chest.

James rubs his head, staring up at me through a cloud of confusion, as if dazed. My already red face heats up.

"James? JAMES!" I crouch down in front of him, slapping his cheek lightly.

"What?" he asks, coming to himself.

"I asked you a question," I hiss, standing up again, giving him my best glare. You know that one that makes everyone cower in fear and drop dead? Yeah, that's the one. Well, at least that's what's supposed to happen, but I think it needs a little more tweaking because James is still very much alive and Hope is clearly laughing at me.

"What are you doing in my room anyway?" I ask, whirling on her suddenly.

"Ha ha. First of all this isn't your room, is it Lily?" Hope grins as my mouth snaps shut.

"Well, it is the room that Heather gave me for the week, and don't I have a right to some privacy?" I ask, after a moment's hesitation.

Hope's grin never falters but she shrugs and turns her attention to her wand which she's twirling between her fingertips like I've seen Gracie do many times before.

"I'd like to know what Hope was doing in here too." James rises to his feet beside me, crossing his arms and glaring at Hope. James turns to me, nodding angrily, as if agreement, even though I'm still mad at him, no matter how cute and ridiculous he looked with a wig of dust bunnies.

"That's why I came in here Lily," James explains drawing himself up to his full height. "I was on my way to my room."

His room happens to be on the other side of the hall, on the opposite side of the staircase from mine.

"And I just happened to notice that the door was open and that Hope was snooping around. And then she attacked me!" he finishes.

Oh, I'm sure.

"I hardly call disarming someone who sneaks up on you while your back's turned an attack," Hope snorts.

"What were you doing under my bed then?" I ask James, confused.

"Oh, I erm… kind of lost my wand when she disarmed me," he mumbles staring down at his feet. "I can't find it…" He sends Hope a murderous glare, which only causes her to giggle.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake James. Accio James's wand!" Hope flicks her wand, and it zooms out from underneath the bed and hits James's head, before she catches it.

"Here." She tosses it back to him, and James, more than a little embarrassed, refuses to look at me as he shoves it back into his pocket.

"Now, can you tell me why you're here?" I ask Hope politely.

POP!

James and I jump and wheel around. Heather had apparated into the room behind us.

"Hello Hope, Lily, oh and good, James came too." She smiles and hastily locks my door and shuts it. "This will be easier than I expected." I note that she's not surprised at all to find James and Hope with me.

"I'm feeling better," I tell her.

"Oh, I'm sorry Lily," Heather laughs. "I had to get the three of you together somehow. The old mothering ploy is the oldest trick in the book, but for some reason it always works." Heather winks knowingly at her son. "Now scoot." Hope reluctantly sits up and moves over as Heather ushers James and I onto the bed beside her.

"I don't want Gracie and Sirius to get suspicious, so listen carefully, you hear me?" she instructs us.

"Wait, we can't tell Sirius?" James asks his mother hesitantly. Apparently, James does not know the definition of a secret.

"No, James. The less people that know about this, the better," Heather answers sadly.

"You don't trust him." James bristles, and I feel him stiffen beside me. "He's not like them," he continues, defending Sirius's honor.

A Gryffindor of six years, you would never know that Sirius Black actually came from a long line of pureblooded Slytherin maniacs. I can recall at the beginning of our first year when many pureblooded and halfblooded Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs feared Sirius, merely because of his last name. I suspect that even James and Remus had trouble overcoming their prejudices in the early weeks of our first year but they quickly became friends, doing away with these false prejudices and making sure that everyone else did so as well.

"James, you know that's not true," his mother replies quietly. She meets her son's fierce gaze steadily, with a fire of her own. James quickly lowers his eyes, ashamed. Her face softens and she touches his shoulder. "I know he's trustworthy James, he's like a son to me. You and Lily accidentally found out, that's the only reason why you know about her and why you're here. Trust me, it's safer this way." She touches his cheek and turns away.

"You know, I'm sitting right here," Hope butts in, clearing her throat.

"I know Hope, I'm aware of that," Heather sighs, smiling fondly at her sister before turning back to me and James. "Hope take a look at these two."

Hope looks at us suspiciously, and Heather's smile widens.

"They're going to be your closest friends. You're going to be spending a lot of time with them," Heather breaks the news.

"What?" Hope gasps.

"No!" I protest thinking about James and the kiss that I shouldn't have enjoyed, but I did.

"She's mean to me!" James whines, glaring at Hope who smirks.

"I thought you three got along," Heather says puzzled, eyeing each of us individually. "Never mind that though, you guys are going to have to put up with each other. Hope, you're going to Hogwarts with them."

"I'm going to Hogwarts?" Hope's jaw drops.

"Yes." Heather nods.

Hope sits in shock.

"Really?" she asks softly, after what seems like several minutes of silence.

"Of course."

Hope's face breaks into a smile and she jumps up, throwing her arms around her sister.

"Thank you! Thank you so much! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Hope squeals. Heather grins and hugs her tightly. Her grin droops and fades as she kisses Hope's head, and pulls her closer. Her eyes shimmer and a lone tear treks down her cheek.

Hope lets go and starts dancing around the room, rambling about her new things that will be needed and the expected trip to Diagon Alley. Heather swipes at her eyes, wiping the last remnants of tears from her face. Smile back in place, she grabs Hope and gently pushes her back down onto the bed beside James.

"We're going to have to skip the trip to Diagon Alley, I'm afraid."

"Oh." Hope's smile falters.

"But you'll be returning this week, with a whole new look," Heather adds with a secret smile.

"You mean like a makeover?" Hope asks hopefully.

"Kind of…" Heather catches my eye and my heart sinks.

We're going to disguise her.

Sometime Later...

Snip.

Snip.

Snip.

Several locks of black hair drift lazily to the floor. Hope fidgets, brushing some hair from her arms. She leans to the left, shifting in the makeshift salon chair in an attempt to glimpse her reflection in the mirror. I grab her shoulders and force her back into her seat.

"Not until I'm finished," I scold, pulling a comb through her hair.

Hope groans, but patiently endures the immobility for about three seconds. Then she has to scratch her nose.

"Don't make me put a binding charm on you, because I will," I threaten, straightening her head and pushing the hand back down.

"No you won't." Hope smirks.

"Yes, she will," James corrects her, tossing aside an ancient copy of Quidditch Today. He's taken Hope's former position, sprawled across my bed. Out of the corner of his eye, I notice him watching me. It's bad enough my hands are shaking to begin with, I don't need the added stress of Potter checking me out. Tiffany was always the one who did the hair and makeup, hell, even Alice was better at this than me, and she always managed to screw up something. So why am I the one who Heather put in charge of Hope's disguise?

Snip.

Snip.

"Stop moving!" I yell frustrated, as I very nearly cut her ear off.

"Lily…" Hope whines. "Can't we use magic instead? Please?" she begs.

"Unless you want to be bald, I suggest you shut up and let me do it the way I know how!" I snap.

James chuckles.

"You too," I tell him blushing.

Snip.

Snip.

"Hope… sit … STILL! PETRI-"

"ALL RIGHT!"

Hope stops squirming and sits back in the chair. Now that she's not moving, I'm able to finish up the hair cut quickly and make sure it's even. I put down the scissors and reach for the comb one last time.

"Pick a color."

Hope thinks for a moment.

"Pink."

I smile, muttering a spell under my breath, before shoving my wand back in my pocket.

"Okay you can look now," I tell her.

Hope jumps up from the chair, racing for the mirror. She stands there with her jaw unhinged and her eyes big and wide.

"My hair!" she gasps. "It's-it's-it's PINK!"

James sniggers, and we exchange a grin.

"Pink looks good on you, it brings out your eyes." I smirk.

"Definitely," James agrees.

Hope continues to stare at her hair in the mirror, testing the new length and look with her hands and a few model worthy pivots and turns. She tears her eyes from the glass, facing us.

"I like it," she decides fluffing it with her fingers.

"Hope, we were joking," I explain, since she obviously missed that fact.

"You look like the pink panther," James says ever so nicely. Typical Potter, you can always count on him for the very best compliments.

"What's wrong with that?" Hope asks, eyeing her reflection again.

"You'd draw too much attention to yourself." With a flick of my wand her hair changes to red.

"I like it," James says immediately, nodding.

Hope though, has other ideas.

"No!" She shakes her head with a pout. "Anything but red."

"Hey! I happen to love red hair!" James glares at her.

"Exactly, I'd be drawing even more attention to myself if I had you staring at me all the time, I mean look at the way you stare at Lily's hair, it's as if she has you hypnotized-"

"Enough!" I interrupt before she can finish the sentence. Hastily I change the color, this time to blonde, but it seems to have gone wrong because it's strawberry blonde.

"Perfect," Hope says.

And it is.

There's no way that anyone could possibly suspect that she's actually Gracie's twin in looks. Well except for a few minor details on her face and her posture and the way she acts, but you would only be able to notice it if you scrutinized the two of them and watched them closely. Which I'm hoping won't happen, unless of course we have a mad stalker on her hands, highly improbable but you never know.

James whistles.

"Looking good."

But he's not looking at Hope, he's looking at me.

"Put your eyes back in your socket!" I snap at him.

I duck my head, busying myself with the clean up job so he won't notice the red blush painting my cheeks.

Footsteps draw dangerously close to where I stand, and suddenly a shadow passes over me. I don't dare look up. I know the hands that suddenly join mine on the bedside table, I even recognize the sound of his unhurried footfall, slowing and stopping right beside me.

"Here, let me help you," he says smoothly in my ear, his hand brushing my arm as he reaches for the scissors.

"No!" I say too quickly and much too loudly. "I mean, no, I've got it covered James," I insist in what I hope is a more casual voice.

Hurriedly, I gather up the various instruments that Heather kindly provided me with to carry out Hope's "makeover". Among these is an ancient sea shell comb that can't be less than one-hundred-years old, what might be a dagger (okay, that's really scary) and a…fork? What does she expect me to do with this? The magical world has some rather odd preconceived notions of the muggle world.

My hand's are shaking again as I struggle to gather them up before James has the opportunity to pick up a single item. (I don't trust him with the fork or that um dagger thing) So of course I was going to drop something, I just didn't expect to drop all of them.

"Oh," I whisper staring down at the mess I've created.

I look at James and then stoop to pick them up. James kneels beside me as I scramble about on all fours like a mad niffler going after the shiny objects. My hand closes over the jagged sea shell comb. Correction: my hand closes over one of the many fragments of the now shattered family heirloom.

Oh, shit.

I broke the thousand year old shell. I broke one of the Potter's treasured possessions.

Mess forgotten I sit back with my head in my hands. What if that was an antique? It had to be worth something. For all I know that might be their most prized possession, something in the family for centuries, a belonging of their great-great-great-great-great-great-great -

"Lily," James gently pulls my hand away from my face.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I blurt out an apology, meeting his eyes for a millisecond before looking back down at the ruined possession.

"It's okay Lily." James pats me on the back awkwardly at first before progressing to rubbing in slow circles. He scoots closer, draping his arm around me.

Wait a minute.

Wait just a minute!

I know where this is going. You can't pull the wool over my eyes Mr. Potter. So I lay my head down on his shoulder, playing the damsel in distress, but I'm doing this not because I'm an idiot, or because I might actually like the feeling of Potter's arm around me. I'm only playing along because I just broke a sea shell that might be worth millions of galleons and I don't want him to get mad, because I'm sure it was extremely important to him, very important. He's upset, distraught, his life is over. That's the only reason why I'm letting him hold me, I swear.

"What's the matter?"

I look up into Hope's puzzled face. I guess I forgot that she was still in the room. During the time that James and I were playing hot potato, Hope had taken the opportunity to tie her hair back in an elegant knot, which obviously required a charm or two. I bet she did it just to show me up for cutting her hair the muggle way.

"I broke it." I open my hands, revealing the shattered fragments of the sea shell comb.

"That's all?" Hope asks.

I sniff and nod.

Hope giggles.

I frown, unsure of what to make of her crazy laughter. Maybe she's deranged. Perhaps blinded by the grief found in the loss of her beloved possession, she might attack me. James glares at her, his arm tightening around me. Aw how sweet he's protecting me from the maniac.

"Oh, honestly! You're such muggles. Reparo!" With a roll of her eyes and a swish of her wand, the sea shell comb in my hands is suddenly whole again.

I stare at her, stunned.

Now why couldn't I have thought of that?

"How did you do that?" James gasps.

I'm not buying it.

"Thanks Hope, I guess I lost it for a moment," I laugh, covering up my mortifying embarrassment. Hello, I'm Lily Evans! You know the girl who's at the top of her N.E.W.T. level Charms class. Yes, I definitely lost it.

Hope smiles knowingly and I hastily lift my head up off James' shoulder and distance myself from him. It's not like that. I was just - I only wanted… Well, at least I thought that I might be getting in trouble for breaking an ancient valuable Potter artifact, but obviously I was wrong and this is not at all what Hope assumes it to be. See, I'm moving away from him, or I would be, if James would move his heavy arm from my shoulder. Honestly, it's like lead. The boy's got incredible muscles.

I did not just say that.

I clear my throat meaningfully, hoping that James will get the message. He doesn't of course. He's so thick headed. I cough loudly and James looks at me.

"Something bothering you Lily?" James asks, watching my fruitless attempts to move out from under his Quidditch enhanced arm. A smile teases at the corner of his lips as if he knows everything going through my head right now. Oh, if only he knew, he'd be snogging me senseless if he knew exactly what I was thinking about.

DON'T START.

I don't like Potter.

I don't.

He's just nice to look at.

Really nice to look at.

Okay, I can't think of anyone else that's better looking, but that doesn't mean I like him.

Right?

"Lily?" James asks.

I blink, coming abruptly out of my reverie.

"Something wrong?" He asks again.

Yes something's very wrong. I like you.

No I don't.

Yes you do.

SHUT UP!

I don't.

You do.

DO NOT.

"DO TOO!"

I clap a hand over my mouth realizing what I just said, out loud. I blush furiously as James's brow wrinkles with concern and Hope quirks an eyebrow. They exchange a quick glance and then James lifts his free hand and touches my forehead.

"Are you all right?" he asks, concerned.

My face heats up under his warm hand.

"I'm fine," I squeak, impatiently brushing his hands away. Honestly, what's the matter with me? One kiss and suddenly I'm turning into this swooning fan girl.

"You know Lily," Hope says with mock seriousness. "You don't have to be upset, it's okay, really. The sea shell comb was only three hundred years old."

"Shut up," I grumble, retrieving the scattered objects that I dropped.

"It was supposedly a gift from a Persian Prince, to my great-great Grandmother, but it's not big deal," she continues with a careless wave of her hand, adding, "these things can be replaced but DON'T TOUCH THAT!"

I jump back as Hope, now back in Maniac! Mode, dives off the bed, lunging for the object which I nervously let fall from my fingers. She catches it in her hands, cradling it as if she were holding Pandora's Box - something so powerful that it could contain such terrifying evil or potential worldwide salvation. She opens her hands and James and I both crane our heads to steal a peek at what should've been a jewel, or an evil pair of dark magic scissors, or a charmed comb, but what turned out to be the boring rusty old dagger.

Hope too looks almost disappointed, or relieved, as if it wasn't what she had originally thought it was and she wasn't sure if this pleased her or not. She smiles sadly and holds the dagger up for us to see.

"This on the other hand, could never be replaced," she says quietly as she slowly gets to her feet and gingerly replaces it on the dresser.

I look at James, having found nothing extraordinarily special about the dagger, unless it was another one of those foreign exchange gifts, which part of me thinks Hope is just inventing for her own amusement. Why would Heather give me something valuable to cut Hope's hair with?

"Mental," James mouths, and I nod in agreement.

"It's very old, older than the sea shell comb by several hundred years. You see, it belonged to one of the founders."

"Founders of what? White Castle?" James whispers.

I bite back a laugh.

"No!" Hope glares at James. "It belonged to one of the four founders of Hogwarts," she explains, running her hands over the blade.

"Who told you that?" James wants to know, his eyes narrowing despite the unquenchable curiosity burning eternally, deep within their hazel depths.

"My brother Harry," Hope answers angrily but her expression softens quickly. "He collected this kind of stuff, or maybe it's been in the Moon family for centuries, because I'm sure we're descended from someone, Gryffindor probably or perhaps Ravenclaw. Harry used to tell me all the stories, silly folk lore some say, but Harry, he loved that kind of stuff..." She smiles reminiscing, her hand still uncomfortably close to that dagger.

I pat my pocket, wondering vaguely where I put my wand. Hope suddenly grabs the dagger, turning and brandishing it in our faces. James emits a girlish squeak, and I practically do a backwards somersault.

"So, don't play with any swords!" she warns us with a threatening grin. Then she laughs noticing that she just scared the living daylights out of us and that I can't breathe properly because I almost got my eyes taken out by one of the Hogwarts founder's playthings. She lowers the rusty little dagger, hops over us, and skips out of the room.

James scrambles to his feet and tiptoes to the doorway.

"Is she gone?" I ask, shakily getting to my feet.

James holds up a hand.

I listen and wait. Finally a door shuts somewhere and I hear James breathe a sigh of relief. I fall back onto the bed and James shuts the door.

"Lock it." I find myself saying.

"Good idea," James agrees, locking it.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, staring at the opposite wall. I look up at the ceiling, thinking the same thing that he is.

"She's nuts," James says finally, voicing the thoughts that are going through my head. "I think she's really Ophelia Lovegood's mother, not Gracie's."

"Stop it," I admonish him, though I can't help but giggle. "Ophelia's not that crazy." James looks at me with raised eyebrows. We start to laugh and neither of us can stop. Hope Adams, smart, funny, top Auror, has come back in sixteen-year-old form and has lost her mind completely. It's not funny, or at least it's not supposed to be, but in times like these when you actually start to get used to these things, or maybe it's the fact that we aren't yet, everything seems like a bad joke.

A few minutes later the two of us are lying on the bed, our laughter dead as quickly as it was born. Our eyes are on the ceiling and our arms are touching, and we're in the midst of a silence that's so unbearably awkward but at the same time so comfortably content. But this is how it's always been between James and I. A series of sharp contrasts juxtaposed, a push and a pull, one step back, two steps forward, a repulsion and an attraction.

"James," I whisper.

"Yeah."

I stare up at the ceiling, tracing each barely visible crack in my mind. I hear the soft creak of the springs as James inches closer to me. A whiff of his intoxicating cologne drifts my way and I can see his face hovering close to mine. My eyes flutter shut. I inhale sharply, breathing the poison which muddles my brain like that time the drinks got mixed up at my cousins wedding and I ended up with a vodka mixture instead of my ginger ale. I was giggly and drunk, feeling nothing at all, until an hour or so later when a killer head ache hit and I threw up all over Petunia's brand new dress. I have to admit though, that moment was so worth it. You should've seen her face.

"What Lily?" James asks softly, lowering his face.

He's like the vodka; forbidden, illegal, off limits to me. I know that if I took a chance with him I'd only end up with a killer hangover and a broken heart full of regrets. I'm smart. I've known Potter for the last six years and I know that he doesn't stay with girls for more than a week. So why am I even thinking of these things? Is it that maybe, just maybe, there's a tiny part of me that's willing, longing, to take that risk because that one week might be worth it? Many people drink, and they get My-heads-going-to-split-open-and-I'm-never-going-to-drink-again hangovers, but they always return to the bottle and do it all over again. Everyone falls in love. And everyone falls hard and gets hurt and broken, but they always heal and they always get back up and fall head first again.

So why is it that I can't bring myself to have just a little fling with Potter? I mean, I know what's coming, I'll be ready for it, won't I? There can't be that much to it. Merlin knows he's interested, and it would stop all those annoying invitations to Hogsmeade and all the stalkerish behavior which has made me OFF LIMITS to any other guy in the wizarding world. Actually, it's not a bad idea. I'm attracted to him and he's attracted to me. Once we get it out of our systems, I think things will smooth over and I can go back to having a semi-normal life without Potter.

"Lily?"

I open my eyes to James's face and my heart quickens as I think of what I'm about to do. My hands though seem frozen at my side and James seems hesitant and puzzled as if the thought hadn't even crossed his mind and if it had it probably had been stopped by one of my infamous slaps which had left more than one bruise or mark on his body.

"You okay?"

I shake my head slowly.

Do it, a voice whispers inside my head as an imaginary hand gives me a hard mental shove in James's direction.

Do it NOW.

I lift my head slowly, lick my lips nervously and then…

I lose my nerve entirely.

I chicken out.

Six years of Gryffindor, and all that brave courage which I'm supposed to be strengthening amounted to nothing. I should've been in Ravenclaw. That lousy, ugly sorting hat. Maybe I'll ask for a transfer… Somehow I don't see that going over too well with Dumbledore and McGonagall, despite the fact that I am at the top of most of my classes.

My head slides back, sinking into the quilt.

"I can't do this," I whisper regretfully, shutting my eyes tightly.

"Yes, you can," James corrects me patiently. His hand moves to my arm, rubbing gently. A shiver runs the length of my spine and my heart lifts only to sink like a stone.

"No, it won't work," I continue quietly.

I hear James chuckle softly beside me. I open my eyes and turn to him.

"I think that's the first time I've ever heard you give up on anything, Lily," he laughs.

I smile weakly, but he's forgotten something very important; I've given up on him. My smile fades no matter how hard I try to force it. So this is it? I practically throw myself at James, my nerve fails and he does nothing.

Because I think maybe, James might've given up on me…

The thought strikes terror into my heart. I almost laugh out loud. It's irony. The guy that's been chasing this one girl for the past two years, suddenly gives up on her and moves on, and the girl finally comes around. It's like a bad chick flick. Except we aren't really in love, I was just, you know, willing to have some fun with him. That's all.

The only reason why I'm disappointed, if you even want to call it that, because I'm not upset, not mad, not sad, just…

Okay, maybe I'm a tiny bit upset, an itsy bitsy bit disappointed, but I'm merely disappointed with myself. I said I was going to do something and then I didn't do it. You know why? Because I was scared. Yes, I, Lily Evans, was scared to kiss James Potter.

What?

He would've raped me.

All right, so he doesn't exactly look like he's interested in tearing all my clothes off, but I think he might've rejected me. And I guess I'm afraid of rejection.

"Look Lily, we'll figure something out, we're going to make this thing work," James says gently, smoothing my hair. My breath hitches and I call up the courage to look him in the eye.

"We will?" I ask, barely daring to get my hopes up.

"Of course, we always do. We've survived three funerals, well two-"

"Three, Tiffany's Dad died," I correct him.

"Oh, and we survived - well you did - a break in, a night in a mausoleum, a child poltergeist-"

"That was Hope," I explain having come to this conclusion shortly after discovering the sixteen year old version in the kitchen.

"Really?"

I nod and James sits thoughtfully before continuing.

"Well, to sum things up we've been through a lot together, Lily, and I'm sure that after all that, a lunatic shouldn't be too hard to handle," he finishes with a small laugh and a smile.

I was afraid he was going to say that. Forced smile back in place, I wonder why I'm actually disappointed that what should've happened, didn't happen. It was a crazy idea. Now that I think of it, I wonder why I even conceived the thought. It's absurd. It would never work. And who's to say Potter is still interested in me? When was the last time he made a pass at me? And I'm not really attracted to him… it's only hormones…

Oh well, so much for spicing up my life with a fiery winter fling. I guess it's back to being boring Lily Evans.

"Now that you put it that way," I say sitting up beside him, "we should be able to handle whatever Hope throws our way, I mean, how hard can it be? It can't be any worse than a full grown marble lion who hasn't had anything to eat in Merlin knows how long? Right?"

"Right, but Lily I don't think marble statues whether they're lions or not eat anything."

"Hmmm… I wouldn't bet anything on it James, that thing looked as if it wanted to have me for breakfast, lunch and dinner."

"You know what? I think you're right Lily."

"About the lions?"

"No, about Hope."

"James," I sigh.

"What?" he asks me.

"I'm always right." I grin.

James laughs loudly and slings an arm around my shoulders. He pulls me toward him, mussing up my hair much to my chagrin. What am I? His kid sister now. Though he's hugging me tightly, really tightly. Can't breathe!

"Ger off!"

"Sorry Lily," he apologizes with a sheepish grin.

"You should be, I think you might've stopped my breathing for a moment." I pant fixing my hair which was probably like a rats nest before, so why should I even bother. Besides, it's not like I care about looking good for Potter who's probably completely turned off by me.

Though I don't know why, it's not like I've hit him or kicked him in the past couple of days… Maybe that's why, maybe it's because I've stopped playing hard to get, or he might just go for the abusive relationship, no, that doesn't make any sense, it had to be something that happened…

Oh my god.

Maybe it was the KISS?

Oh god.

Oh Mother of Merlin.

Am I a bad kisser?

"Lily, don't worry yourself," James says, bringing me roughly out of my thoughts with a nudge to the ribs. Easy for him to say, he's not the one in the midst of a crisis. What if I am a bad kisser? Will I be a spinster for the rest of my life? Or will I end up married to old Mundungus Fletcher who doesn't know a girl from a fish. Not to mention the fact that he's disgusting.

"Everything will go perfectly, trust me," he assures me with an easy smile before leaving the room. .

Famous last words.

I should've realized then what we were really signing ourselves up for.

Unfortunately, I didn't.

A/N: Ok, first of all if the grammar sucks, blame me because I'm currently swamped with schoolwork. I understand that this chapter seems a bit boring. I thought about changing it for a very long time but in the end I couldn't bear to change it. In the next chapter winter break draws to a close, and a very big secret is revealed that has tragic consequences… Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews!

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