I'll Fight For You
By Hazelmist/Summerskies
Disclaimer: I rule the world. Yea, I wish.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It made my day! This chapters really long so either you'll hate me or love me.
Chapter Eight: The Funeral
It's raining.
I press my cheek against the glass and watch the tear shaped water droplets gather on the window pane. Lifting my hand, I trace their watery trails with my fingertip. The sound of the rain tapping on the window is like a miserable lullaby, never soothing or comforting, but your eyelids grow heavy and your movements lethargic, as you fall beneath the hypnotic spell of the steady drumming.
It seems to whisper in your ear, go back to bed… Go to sllllleeeeepppppp…
Knock. Knock.
The trance is instantly shattered, as the bedroom door creaks open. A head of unruly black hair pokes into the room, and two hazel eyes find mine.
"Hi," James says, with a small smile.
"Hi," I mirror his efforts, awarding him with a slight curve of my lips.
"Can I come in?" he asks hesitantly, stepping inside.
"You already did," I point out even as he shuts the door behind him.
"Oh, sorry," he apologizes. "You don't mind?"
I shake my head, motioning for him to sit down on the bed in front of me. As he sits down, he reveals the plate that he was carrying behind his back.
"Are you hungry? I brought breakfast." He lifts the plate up for me to see.
Not really, but I find myself sliding off the windowsill and joining him on the bed. I take one of the scones and James takes the other one.
"Have you talked to Gracie yet?" I ask James softly between bites.
James shakes his head.
"Her room's locked, I checked. She's barricaded herself in there, I'm not even sure if she's taking meals." I can hear the concern in his voice, so unfamiliar and foreign coming from the normally selfish James Potter.
"Your Mom had me bring up a plate for her, but I doubt she ate any of it." I finish my scone, and brush the crumbs from my T-shirt. Gracie's been in her room ever since we got to the Potter's house, which was approximately four days ago.
"She'll come out of her room today," James says, finishing his own scone and taking the empty plate from me.
"How can you be so sure?" I ask, looking up at him.
"Today's the funeral."
Damn. I forgot about the funeral. Right when we're getting ready to go back to Hogwarts and forget all about this, we have to relive it all over again. Why can't they do it the day after the person dies? Or even better, immediately following their death?
"What should I wear?" I wonder aloud.
"Clothes preferably. As much as I'd like to see you without them, it is going to be a funeral - Ow!" I cut him off with a punch in the arm.
"You're awful!" I tell him but there's something about his usual perverted comment that makes me want to grin, or worse, laugh.
"I wouldn't be talking." James winces as he gently rubs the spot where I punched him.
I roll my eyes.
"Wear something black. Ask Mom. I don't know. Why are you asking me?" James raises an eyebrow.
"I've never been to a funeral before, wizard or muggle." I fidget, looking down at my hands.
"You're not the only one," James whispers.
I turn my head and look up at him. His eyes meet mine for only a moment before darting away. Why do I get the feeling that this won't be the last funeral we'll be attending together?
James clears his throat and starts to get up from the bed.
"Thanks for the scone." Unable to smile, I grab his free hand instead.
"Thanks for the company." He squeezes my hand.
"What time's the funeral?" I ask, letting go somewhat reluctantly.
"Two. I guess I'll see you then." He starts backing out of the room.
I nod watching as he reaches the door. He stops and looks back at me, holding the empty plate in one hand and the doorknob in the other. I wait, but he just smiles as if he forgot what he was going to say and leaves, closing the door behind him. I listen to his footsteps moving away. Then I turn around and face the window.
Looking through the rain smeared glass, I see nothing but various shades of grey.
Gloomy, depressing, miserable - the dreary weather coincides with my mood. I can't help but think that this is the type of day that a funeral always takes place on in the muggle movies.
I just never thought that I would ever be an actress in one.
*
James was right. Gracie did come out of her room.
I found her in the living room, sitting rigidly on the edge of an armchair. By the time I arrived, the room was filled with solemn, crying people, dressed in flowing black cloaks, robes, muggle dresses, and suits. I was actually late, but because of the heavy rain, the funeral had been delayed a half hour.
It wasn't exactly my fault. I don't bring black dresses to Hogwarts. I could've easily owled home for one, but my parents were relocated and it was difficult to find a vacant owl with so many letters going in and out due to the funeral preparations. There was a lovely dress in my closet, but Mrs. Potter took one look at it and started sobbing. She muttered something about "Hope" and fled the room. I hastily put the dress back, and Mrs. Potter returned dry eyed with one of her old formal black robes, so that's what I'm wearing. It's a little big, but at least it's better than my Hogwarts robes.
I walk over to the chair and stop in front of her. Her blue eyes are staring straight at me, but I know she doesn't see me. She's been holed up in her room since the night we arrived. She looks like she hasn't been sleeping, but it's difficult to tell how she's holding up because she cleaned up for the funeral.
"Gracie?" I call her back to me with a light touch on the arm.
Slowly, her eyes come back into focus, and she blinks and moves her head, obviously seeing me for the first time.
"Lily," she whispers, the muscles move in her face as if she wants to smile.
I nod and bend down to hug her. Gracie hugs me back, but stiffly as if she's been doing this all day. She withdraws quickly and puts a horribly forced smile on her face. To her I'm just another unnamed relative coming to tell her how sorry they are. I blink back tears, hurt by her reaction. Already her eyes are back looking at something over my left shoulder.
Gracie, how could they do this to you?
"Come on, there's someone here that wants to see you." James materializes beside me. I feel him take my wrist and pull me gently away from Gracie and through the crowd of swishing black cloaks and gowns. I turn around, but Gracie hasn't moved from the spot and I doubt she even knows I left. With a sigh I allow James to lead me over to a corner.
"Has she been like this all day?" I ask him, quietly.
"At least she acknowledged you. I don't even think she knew who her grandparents and Sirius were."
I wince, and James hands me a cup of butter beer.
"Thanks," I sip on it, realizing how much I missed the wizarding beverage.
"I meant to warn you…" James says softly, pouring a drink for himself.
"It's okay." I pat his arm.
"Come on, they're waiting for us," James urges me gently, turning slightly to look at something behind us.
"Who?" I ask, puzzled.
"Over here."
James reaches for my wrist and gets my outstretched hand instead. We exit the room, where there's another smaller and less formal parlor where the younger crowd has gathered. A group of kids race past us, caught up in a modified game of what we muggles like to call "tag". James keeps going, heading for the back of the room where a few teenagers are talking and drinking butterbeer, including a very solemn Sirius. I recognize him immediately because he's set apart from the others and leaning against the wall. But his eyes are locked on a boy who's speaking in a hushed voice to those that have gathered around him.
"My Dad told me that there's nothing left, the whole thing was demolished. He said they couldn't even locate her Mom's body-"
A pair of eyes notice us, and the familiar round face of my close friend and fellow sixth year Gryffindor entertains a fleeting look of what might have been surprise before quickly breaking into a smile. Alice throws out her arm, reaching for us and clumsily knocking into the person beside her. Her pumpkin juice spills all over the speaker's shoes and whatever else he was going to say was never revealed.
"Sorry Eddie," Alice apologizes and then turns to me. "Lily I haven't seen you in years!" I chuckle and we hug. Once again she forgets the drink she's holding, and the pumpkin juice sloshes out of the cup, narrowly missing me.
"I'll take that Alice." A blonde haired girl winks and takes the cup away from Alice, gently replacing it on the table.
"Hello Ophelia," I greet her with a smile and nod at the Ravenclaw prefect, another good friend of mine.
"Eddie," I smile amusedly as the Hufflepuff prefect sticks out a hand for me to shake.
"Peter," I nod and smile again at another fellow Gryffindor, a short mousy boy who loves Potter and Black and lives to worship them. He could give any Potter or Black fan girl a run for their money. Speak of the devil, Potter has already joined Black, and is whispering about something. Black nods his head, listening intently to what James is saying and then Peter asks them something. I look at the three of them and realize that someone's missing from their infamous quad, Remus Lupin.
"Oh, Lily! I heard what happened. Poor Gracie. My parents told me yesterday who died and I couldn't believe it. Her parents were nice people. Daddy met them once. They didn't work in the same department but he remembered them as being very kind and friendly. And little Christopher! Oh, it's awful! I can't believe it. It's so sad. Poor Gracie, I would hate to be her. She must be out of her bloody mind with grief. Poor Gracie." Alice stops talking, her round face shining with genuine grief. She looks up at me, and then shakes her head, her bottom lip trembling. I wrap an arm around her shoulder.
"Gracie wouldn't talk to you either?" I ask, softly.
"No! I tried, but oh! She wouldn't even look at me. I am sorry, I am sad. I feel so terrible," she moans, looking as if she's about to burst into tears. I pat her on the back.
"We all do, Alice. But it didn't happen to us."
I wish I could comfort Gracie. I wish that I could take some of her pain. I would do anything to reverse this act of inhumanity, and go to any means necessary to make sure that my best friend does not come to the same end as her family did, even if it meant committing an act of revengeful murder.
"Frank wanted to come," Alice is saying, referring to her best friend another Gryffindor in our year. "But well you know how his mother is…" She doesn't have to say anymore. I used to wonder how Frank Longbottom got into Gryffindor, but then I met his mother and realized that anyone who put up with that controlling woman was a very brave soul.
"She's already spilt three cups of pumpkin juice without her other half," Ophelia Kenny, the Ravenclaw prefect teases, referring to the fact that Frank and Alice were like a team and without each other the results were… well… disastrous. Alice had an odd habit of losing things and Frank was always tripping or getting himself into some sort of mess. But when they were together, you would never know it. They complimented each other beautifully, making a killer team, and it was obvious to everyone, except Frank and Alice that they would make the perfect couple.
"What can I say? I'm worse than Andromeda," Alice sighs.
I snort. No one could possibly be more of a klutz than Andromeda Black, though between the two of them Alice and Frank could seriously give her a run for her money. The Head Girl was always knocking something over at the prefect meetings, and managed to trip over the same chair each week.
"I'm going to miss her," I say wistfully, remembering that Andromeda graduated last year.
"Are you the new Head Girl?" I ask Ophelia, curiously.
The Ravenclaw snorts, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
"No one in their right mind would make me Head Girl," she scoffs.
"Ah, that's what Andromeda thought," Alice points out.
Ophelia chuckles but shakes her head again.
"You know I couldn't be Head Girl," she says, seriously. Ophelia's brilliant and by far the brightest witch in the entire school. But she has a tendency to… well… let's just say she's not always fully there. Quite frankly, she's got a few screws loose. It doesn't help her reputation that she's rumored to be dating Lovegood, the wacko that started the radical Quibbler. "Besides, I think it would kill Mary Pewter if she didn't get to be Head Girl," Ophelia adds.
"Eddie's Head Boy?" Alice asks.
Ophelia nods with a smirk. The funeral must have cleared her head, because she's a lot more sane than usual.
"Don't bring it up though, his chest might explode if he puffs that badge out anymore," Ophelia quips, stealing a glance at the Hufflepuff who's currently chatting with another one of my friends who I didn't notice before.
"Tiffany's here?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Oh, she must've just arrived," Alice muses.
Tiffany spots us and flies over to us. She hugs Alice first and then turns to me. She hugs me, and I'm taken aback. I wasn't expecting to see her here. James told me that some Ministry kids might show up such as Eddie and Ophelia. And I personally sent one to Alice and James sent one to Peter and Remus… but the owl came back with Tiffany's letter.
"The letter came back…" I start, but Tiffany cuts me off.
"It's been all over the Daily Prophet, Lily. The Adams murder did not go down quietly. This one was probably the most publicized out of all of them," she says quickly, shaking her pretty head of curls sadly.
I nod, and then stop. Something she said strikes me.
"Wait… Did you say all of them as in… plural?"
Tiffany nods, giving me a curious look. I swallow hard, a lump suddenly forming in my throat. Alice bites down on her lip, watching me nervously, as if she knows that I shouldn't be asking questions.
"You mean to say, there's been, more… More than one of these murders?" I ask, slowly.
"Oh, yes. There's been a whole slew of them. Why do you think the Hogwarts start date was pushed back?" Tiffany replies.
The bomb dropped.
This is it, my chance to find out what the heck is going on here. James said he wasn't ready to tell me, but he never said that I couldn't get the information from anybody else. I can't just ask her outright, Alice is still eyeing me, and James is less than ten feet away. I'll have to get Tiffany to tell me, without physically asking her what happened.
"Of course, it makes sense now after that terrible thing that happened." I frown, and try to make it look like I know exactly what I'm talking about.
Alice is openly staring at me even though Eddie is talking to her. She knows I'm lying and I haven't a clue as to what I'm saying. Tiffany on the other hand doesn't appear to pick up on this. She seems a bit distracted, looking over her shoulder every few seconds as if she's searching for someone.
"It's been horrible, the Daily Prophet tried to keep it quiet, but it's gotten so big now that they can't ignore it. Our world talks of nothing else, day in and day out, how sad, how cold blooded, how awful and unexplainable it was." Tiffany says this as if it's something she's repeated over and over again. It's as if she really has talked about so much that the subject has been worn thin. I wait patiently for her to continue, but instead she asks me a random question that has absolutely nothing to do with what we were just discussing, or what we came so extremely close to discussing.
"Where's Remus?"
"I don't know," I reply, silently begging her to return to the topic. Don't drop it now, not when I'm inches away from discovering the truth.
But she turns to Eddie, Alice and Ophelia with the same question and gets blank stares and a couple of shrugs. Her mind has left the topic entirely, focusing on only one thing, the whereabouts of the missing Marauder.
"Excuse me." She leaves us and goes over to talk to the three Marauders that are present.
No! Not now, not when you were so close to telling me! What is it with this secret? Why is it that someone's murdered, someone starts crying, ghosts arrive, someone goes missing, or my house is invaded by serial killers whenever I get close to finding out the truth? Why? I mind as well just accept it. I'm an outsider.
"Let's go, the funeral's about to start," Alice disturbs my thoughts, touching my arm.
James has already left the room, and Peter and Sirius are shaking their heads at Tiffany as they head for the door with Ophelia and Eddie close behind. I put down my drink, and we follow them outside. It's still raining, but it's more of a drizzle. I pull my cloak closer around me and Alice asks me for a water repellant spell. I cast the spell on her, knowing that she would probably mess it up. I seriously consider using it myself, but it doesn't seem right.
I let the rain slap against my cloak, soaking me through to the bone. I'm cold and wet, and it makes me feel a little better, slightly justified that I'm suffering in some way, surrounded by all these people that knew and loved these three people. There's an elderly man talking, a priest or an official of some sort, but his words wash over me like the rain from the sky. I can't tell the difference between the salty tears and the acidic rain sliding down my face and blurring the three black coffins into one.
It was over in what felt like a matter of minutes. The people left one by one, even Alice, though rather reluctantly, but I lingered, rooted to the spot by some mysterious force.
Gracie's still here, I watched her walk away after placing her flowers on the coffins but I know that she didn't go back to the house. We're best friends, and now I'm finally beginning to understand this different side of her, just as I have started to understand this same side to James.
Suddenly, she appears, as if out of thin air. She's soaking wet, the water repellant charm Mrs. Potter had spelled her with has worn off, and she too chose the feel of the rain and the cold rather than the dry empty warmth.
Cautiously, I approach her, taking slow and small, but constant steps. The distance between us shrinks and disappears altogether, and I'm standing side by side with my best friend of five years. Together we stare down at the fresh mound of dirt, heaped with brightly colored flowers that seem to fade in the gloomy twilight and look disfigured and wilted in the dreary drizzling rain. Shoulder to shoulder I feel a little bit stronger, and I think Gracie feels the same. We share our strength, supporting each other, catching each other when we fall. That's what friends are for. She inhales sharply, never removing her eyes from the grave with its ugly flowers and its marble stone that doesn't yet bare the names of the three people that rest beneath it. I can feel her trembling beside me, teetering on the edge.
"Damn it, Lily! This is so bloody unfair!" she growls. "Why'd they have to spare me? Why couldn't they have let Chris live instead?"
I don't have an answer for that, except for the fact that they're a bunch of -
"Monstrous murderers."
Well, those weren't quite the words James chose. His were a bit more…colorful? But you get the gist. I look over at James, not at all surprised to see him there. I've come to find out that this arrogant prick cares about Gracie a great deal.
I take Gracie's hand, and James wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders. With both of us on either side of her, she won't fall if she chooses to break down. Gracie closes her eyes. When she opens them she looks to the sky and then to the great mound at her feet. Time passes, but no tears fall from her bloodshot blue eyes. She's finished crying. There's nothing left in her. It's an empty shell.
"I'm ready to go home." Her hand slips from mine, and she shrugs out of James's arm.
Gracie starts to walk away, straight and tall, the pillar of strength that I remember. But her eyes must have seen something that struck a chord or a memory, because she stumbles.
I catch her before she hits the ground, steadying her. Immediately, she's back on her feet gently pushing me away. She rests, leaning against a tombstone of an ancestor that died hundreds of years ago and then slowly starts walking again, only to lose her balance a second time. Again I'm there at her side, but it's James who's arms encircle her fragile skinny form.
"I'm tired," Gracie murmurs weakly as she presses her back against a second tombstone, that also reads Moon.
"I'll carry you." James picks her up without hesitation, cradling her in his arms like a small child. Gracie hangs like a limp rag doll in his arms. She's already asleep. I strongly suspect that she didn't sleep at all the last two days.
I start to follow, but I stop to pick up the black glove that must've fallen out of Gracie's pocket when she fell the second time. My hand grazes over the tombstone, and I notice the name engraved in the polished marble.
Harold Julius Moon
A Loving Son, Brother and Friend
1928 - 1951
He was barely twenty-three years old… Too many people die young in this world. I don't want to hear about anymore short lives right now. I seize the glove, and hurry to catch up with James and Gracie.
*
Almost everyone had left by the time we entered the house. It was quiet, broken only by the soft murmurings in the kitchen down the hall of the Potters and a few lingering relatives and close friends. Our footsteps echo through the large house, as we climb the stairs and then enter the long hallway.
"In here," James whispers, nodding towards Gracie's bedroom door.
I open the door for him, and he lowers Gracie onto the bed. He's careful not to wake her as he removes her dripping cloak, and pulls back the sheets. I help him, using a simple drying charm on her clothes and cloak. James then uses a clever spell to transform her clothes into a comfortable pair of pajamas. He carefully moves her head, placing it on the soft pillow. I pull the sheets and blankets over her, tucking her into bed.
James shuts the shade and we tip toe from the room, closing the door quietly behind us.
"Do you want to go some place quiet?" he asks in a whisper.
A smile tugs at my mouth, because it's more silent than a tomb where we're standing. The smile never surfaces because I'm too tired and too depressed to work the muscles in my face in that direction. He looks worse than death, and he doesn't notice the mistake in his words. He walks away, taking my silence as an affirmative answer and I follow.
James takes me into a small room with a fireplace and a couch. It doesn't take James long to light a fire (a normal fire mind you none of this emerald artificial flame floo powder stuff) and within minutes a crackling blaze warms the room.
He gets to his feet and looks at me, his mouth suddenly twitching as if he wants to smile.
"What?" I ask, slightly annoyed by that look and wondering why my face is warm all of a sudden.
"It's nothing," James mutters. averting his eyes to the fire.
Like I believe that, not after I just caught him staring at me with that look on his face. I walk over to him, my soggy shoes squeaking in protest.
"What?" I demand, daring him to face me.
Hesitantly, he lifts his head. There's a guilty look on his face as if he's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"You're all wet," he says, staring at me.
"So are you," I retort. What is it with him? Suddenly, I realize that my dress must be sticking to me. I don't dare glance down. I already know that James has noticed what the rain's done for my feminine figure. A hot blush spreads across my cheeks and I fold my arms over my chest. Merlin, is that all guys ever think about? I swear they have a one track mind.
It shouldn't surprise me. I mean this is Potter we're dealing with the same adolescent who once bet Sirius that he could snog every girl in Hogwarts. I stupidly thought that maybe he'd grow up a bit over the summer but nothing's changed. As soon as we return to Hogwarts everything will be just like it was last year. With an angry sweep of my wand I dry my clothes.
"Not anymore," I tug at the borrowed dress, which though big, still seems to cling in a few places I could do without. My neckline is lot lower than I remember it being. I glance in James' direction and I notice that he's still looking at me.
"Why," I grit my teeth and wrap my cloak around me and the dumb dress, "are you still staring at me?"
"I can't help it. I've never met anyone more beautiful," he answers in a low voice.
Maybe it's the glasses, or maybe it's the trick of the firelight but looking into Potter's hazel eyes it seems so… I can't explain it. But it almost seems like this is the truth, that he's really saying this to you and only you, and that this is the prelude to the best kiss of your life. He reaches for my face, his finger's grazing one of my damp curls before I snap out of the Potter trance and step out of his reach.
"Goodnight, Potter," I say, coldly.
I turn around and start for the door.
"Wait!" James catches hold of my arm, forcing me to stop. "I have something to say to you first."
"I don't want to hear about it." I wrench my arm free, and grab the doorknob.
"Actually I think you might want to listen to this."
Something in his voice makes me stop and turn. He looks both surprised and a little smug to see me still standing there. If it wasn't for my stupid curiosity, I'd be a perfectly happy, insanely smart, safe, boring, Potter-free Ravenclaw. But oh no, the hat had to put Gryffindor, with Potter and his posse. Naturally my life went downhill from there
"You've got three seconds," I warn, giving him an ultimatum.
"Give me thirty," Potter insists.
"Two."
"A minute?"
"One." I turn the doorknob.
"No, wait!" Potter slams the door shut, throwing himself in front of the door as if his life depends upon it. I glare at him.
"What?" I demand.
James makes a show of thinking, but I know he's not thinking, there's nothing in that skull except the pituitary gland (the hormone switch).
"You know you look cute when you're mad," he says, smirking.
"Potter get out of my way!" Oh! I could kill him right now! If it wasn't for his relatives just dying, and his dear mother I'd take out my wand and murder him.
"Our friend's back!" James blurts out suddenly.
Huh? Our friend's back? What kind of news is that? Hey, he couldn't be talking about…
"The ghostly girl? The one that was looking for Harry? She's back?" I ask, my eyes widening.
James nods and slowly steps away from the door. He drifts over to the couch and throws himself down upon it. I follow him, sitting down at the opposite end.
"How'd you know? Did you see her again?" I ask, suddenly interested.
James shakes his head.
"No, but Sirius did," he tells me.
"Sirius?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Yea, when I mentioned it to him he knew exactly what I was talking about. Apparently he's seen the frightened creature on a couple of her midnight strolls. But she was too skittish, when he tried to approach her."
No surprise there. I'd be scared too if Sirius approached me. He's been so unnaturally quiet and solemn and yes, I'll say it, serious, go ahead laugh. But it's scary to see him in this unusually grave like form.
"You'll never guess where she's been hiding," James says, bringing me back to the present.
"Where?" I lean forward eagerly looking into his hazel eyes.
"Gracie's room."
"No way!" I gasp.
"Sirius saw her in there. Gracie's been taking care of her, letting her sleep in her bed and giving her the food you keep bringing up," James confides.
Sirius found all of this out? Why didn't Gracie come and tell us that she had taken the child under her wing? If it was company Gracie was looking for, I would've been more than happy to sit and talk with her. Hurt and a little dejected I look up at James wondering how he feels about all of this.
"Don't feel bad Lily, right now I think this is what Gracie needs," James says sagely, stretching his arm across the back of the sofa.
"I just don't understand why she didn't come to one of us." I draw my legs up onto the couch and curl up in the crook of the arm rest. Is she mad at me? Is it because my parents and my wretched sister are still alive and well?
"I don't understand it anymore than you do Lily, but maybe it's easier for her, to talk to a little kid, someone who doesn't understand, someone she doesn't even know." James frowns and then looks up at me. "I'm not making any sense am I?"
"Well, no," I shake my head and sigh. "I mean, she's a perfect stranger! Unless…" Suddenly. I jump to my feet, an idea forming in my mind. "Gracie knows her!"
"What?"
"Gracie must know her!" I start pacing, the wheels in my mind turning. She must be a relative from her Dad's side. Merlin only knows how she got to the Potter's house, but she must be an Adam's family cousin or something.
James smiles weakly when he hears my theory, but shakes his head.
"It doesn't fit Lily, how would she know about my uncle?"
"You're related to them!"
"Harry was my mom's brother, and Gracie's mother was my mom's sister," he explains patiently.
"So…"
"And how would she know about my uncle in the first place when he died over 20 years ago?"
"Unless it was er, a different Harry…?" I trail off hopefully but James just chuckles.
"And it was just a coincidence that she showed up in Harry's old room, right?"
"Um…" My theory just got flushed down the toilet. I flop back down on the couch beside James. I hate it when I'm confused. Damn my meddlesome curiosity and unquenchable thirst for knowledge. I can feel a headache coming on.
"It's useless," I sigh, rubbing my temple.
"Gracie's been talking to her, she probably knows something. Maybe we can talk to her or even the girl tomorrow…"
"Hmm, maybe." My head's starting to pound. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths. My breathing becomes more regular, and as my headache lifts a feeling of drowsiness replaces it. I know I'm going to fall asleep, if I don't get up and leave right now while my limbs are still functioning.
"Lily?" James asks. softly.
"Yes?" I open my eyes.
"I just wanted to thank you," James whispers.
"Thank me?" Surprised I turn to him. I've never heard Potter thank people before, it's like I'm dealing with a stranger.
"Yes, what you did for Gracie and me was really -"
I silence him, pressing my hand to his lips.
"My relatives weren't the ones who were murdered." My hand slowly falls from his soft lips and moves to his shoulder. I wrap my arms around him, embracing him. He leans into me, his hands lingering at my waist. I'm not very good with words at times like these when my Aunt and Uncle are still very much alive as well as my parents and unfortunately my sister.
I start to pull away, but James isn't ready to let go. His arms tighten around me, and not for the first time I wonder if Potter is taking advantage of my sympathy. One hand leaves my waist and I feel his fingers suddenly entangled in my hair. I freeze, a pleasant chill running down my spine as his warm, soft cheek rubs against my own. He smoothes my hair, and I close my eyes rubbing his back.
Whoa, check out those muscles. Okay Lily, you did not just think about that. Ugh. I shake my head, rapidly clearing my mind of these grotesque thoughts and knocking heads with James.
"Ow!" We break apart, both clutching our heads.
I blush, rubbing my head, wondering how the heck someone could have a head as hard as a rock, with cheeks so soft. Really it's no surprise though, after feeling those Quidditch muscles of his. Stop it Lily, don't go down that road. James looks at me, a questioning look on his face, as if to say "What was that for?".
I giggle at this and James breaks into a smile with a soft chuckle.
"Maybe you knocked some sense into me," he jokes.
"You could certainly use some," I snicker.
"Ah Evans, you laugh now, but just you wait. One day you're going to see me start getting top marks, and then you'll be kicking yourself when I become the next Head Boy and you're stuck with me for a whole year," James prophesizes, smirking.
Did he just say that out loud? Potter the infamous rule breaking Marauder? Head Boy? It's so absurd that I don't even have to laugh. It's beyond funny.
"Good one Potter, but I don't think I'll have to worry about that one," I chortle.
"Just you wait Evans," James repeats in what has to be a mock serious tone. Because he can't honestly be taking this seriously. I mean, it's Potter, the boy who pranks every living being in Hogwarts, disrupts every class, has been caught with a girl more times than I can count on my hands and toes, and the boy whose ultimate goal in life is to have more detentions than anyone else that's ever attended Hogwarts. No, he can't be serious.
"Oh, and what do you plan on doing Potter? Are you going to charm the professors or hypnotize Dumbledore?" I snort, trying to act serious, but failing miserably.
"Maybe," James says with a mischievous grin and a suggestive wink. I start having convulsions, trying fruitlessly to suppress the wave of laughter.
"Why do you find this so funny?" he asks in that mock serious voice of his.
"You…H-H-Head B-Boy!" I let out a howl and double over laughing.
James sighs, and leans back against the sofa. He's still trying to act as if he's really given this matter some thought. Did I mention that James is an excellent actor? Right now he's throwing me this sullen frown as if he's actually hurt by me laughing at him. Imagine that, a Marauder, hurt that I don't believe that he'll become Head Boy.
I pull myself together (after a few minutes of indulging myself with the image of imaginary Head Boy Potter actually telling students to NOT break the rules) and sit up wiping the tears from my eyes.
"You don't think I can pull it off? The hypnotizing thing?" James quips, cracking a grin.
"Only a miracle could get you that badge!" I giggle, getting to my feet.
"So, what's wrong with miracles?" James pursues me as I retrieve my cloak and shoes from the floor.
"Nothing's wrong with miracles," I say, quickly.
"You don't believe in them?" he asks, softly.
I stop everything that I'm doing and turn to look at him.
"What makes you think that?" I frown.
"You admitted it, not me," James points out.
I stare at him, realizing what I just said. The words sink in slowly as I slip my feet into my shoes and James helps me with my cloak. I barely even notice.
"Well I for one, do believe in miracles," he declares, stepping in front of me before I can get to the door.
"A lot of people do." I smile sadly up at him.
"They do happen," he repeats.
Not in this world, I grumble to myself. But my smile stays in place and I nod in agreement.
"You don't believe me?" James reads right through my phony smile. "I'll prove it to you right now Evans. You're going to witness a miracle right before your very beautiful green eyes."
"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow and lean back against the door looking up at him.
I look behind him, searching the room, half expecting some amazing thing to happen. It's just one of those things that Potter's eyes can do to you. Sometimes, you start believing in things so fantastical, so out of this world, so highly unlikely… It's like those false words that roll off his tongue and make you feel like you're the center of the world, the only one he really sees, even if it is for just the moment before you remember who he really is and the girl of the week that's currently waiting for him half clothed in her bed. That's how I know miracles don't and won't happen and this occasion is no different.
"How?" I snort, folding my arms across my chest.
"I'm going to ask you out to Hogsmeade this weekend and you're going to say yes," James predicts smugly, leaning against the door beside me. His hands creep up to my shoulders, and once again a familiar shiver races down the length of my spine and I close my eyes. His fingers dance delicately across my neck, expertly reaching for my face.
"No!" I twist out of his hold, my common sense waking up again. "No, I will not go out with you Potter." I say, pushing him out of my way.
"I'll make a deal with you Evans," James challenges me in his most seductive voice.
"No deals!" I plead, but he grabs the door slamming it shut.
"No, you'll like this one. Believe me, you'll enjoy winning this one, which of course you won't, but you would if you did," he teases, glancing my way and I can't help but be intrigued.
"Of course I'll win. What makes you think I can't win?" I ask hotly. I may not gamble, but I am a Gryffindor, and if this is a challenge I am NOT backing down.
"If… No… When I become Head Boy, you have to go out on a date with me," he dares me with a smug smile.
I snort. Nope, not going to happen. This is going to be a piece of cake.
"Okay Potter, now tell me what I'm going to get since you know it'll never happen." I lean toward him with a mocking grin on my face.
"A life without your favorite Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, Hogwart's number one stud and most eligible bachelor-" And the list goes on and on because I'm sure since Potter literally thinks that he is god and the universe revolves around him.
"Basically an amazing, perfect, wonderful life where I can go every day without you asking me out every three seconds. No, hold that thought, if I win Potter, you will never ask me out again. Agreed?" I poke him in the chest when he doesn't answer immediately.
"What's wrong, Potter? Are you afraid that you'll lose?" I ask, now it's my turn to smirk as fear flits across his face.
"Not in the slightest," he responds, regaining his composure, but I saw how his eyes flickered.
"Okay, then shake on it." I hold out my hand and James seizes it in his large hand, practically crushing my small fingers.
"You're going to regret this Evans," he informs me in his most threatening tone.
"No, Potter, this is probably the best decision of my life," I contradict him, smirking up at him.
"That's what you think, now. But later Evans, you're going to be sorry," he predicts ominously, squeezing my hand.
"No," I pull my hand free with some difficulty and smile smugly. "I don't think I will be."
"Goodnight James, sweet dreams." I grin and mockingly plant a kiss on his cheek. The look on Potter's face when I pull away is priceless.
"Just you wait Evans! I'll show you a bloody miracle!" he hisses.
I slam the door shut, and run off to bed snickering.
A/N: Thanks again for those of you that reviewed. I've had a rough week and it made my day! Next up Lily, James, Grace and Sirius head back to Hogwarts and we meet some familiar and new characters! Please tell me what you think and constructive criticism is always welcome!
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