I'll Fight For You by Hazelmist

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Suspense
Relationships: Lily & James
Book: Lily & James, Books 1 - 6
Published: 02/02/2009
Last Updated: 21/03/2010
Status: In Progress

“Then why won’t you go out with me?” James asks quietly, looking down at me with blazing eyes.
There are many reasons why I won't go out with him. Reason #1: He's a selfish git. Reason
#2: He's not my type and Reason #3...“You would hurt me.” It's Lily's Sixth Year and
she just wants the arrogant Potter to leave her alone, but when tragedy strikes and the world goes
dark, Lily is forced to take refuge in the Potter's home and sees James in a whole new
light.




1. Prologue
-----------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**A/N:** I know there aren't many L/J fanfictions on this site but I sincerely hope that
you give this one a shot because in addition to H/Hr, L/J is my favorite ship.

**PROLOGUE**

*It's over.*

*I fought until there was nothing left in me, but he won in the end. Tears blind my vision,
and I crumple to the floor before him not by choice, but by the workings of his curse. I'm
begging him not to touch him. Take me. I don't care. Just don't take my son. He throws back
his head and laughs, amused, and perplexed by me. He's not human. He has no heart. He
doesn't understand love. The laugh chills my bones, and makes my blood run cold. And I know
right then and there that it's over.*

*I'm sorry. I love you both, but it seems that I've failed.*

*I don't hear anything. My world has suddenly gone silent. The devil's lips are
moving. I can see them mouthing those fatal words that I know will end my life. But I don't
hear them.*

*Suddenly, I'm hearing voices coming from all directions. They're echoes of my past
life, flashes of my childhood, glimpses of familiar faces, and scenes of happier days.*

*They say that just before you die your whole life flashes before your eyes.*

*They're right... But they're wrong...*

*Only the parts that matter are seen in those brief moments before life leaves the body. Time
seems to come to a standstill, and suddenly, I'm seeing it all over again. The moments of my
past are relived, and I remember.*

*The Happines.*

*And The Sadness.*

*The Friendships.*

*And The Love.*

*The Deaths.*

*And Life...*

*It's all coming back to me...*

A/N: The next chapter really starts the story, flashing back to the start of Lily's sixth
year. I'd love to hear what you think so, please review.

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2. An Awful Awakening
---------------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** I own Shakespeare and Grace Adams. Of course everything else belongs to the
marvelous JK Rowling.

**A/N**: The prologue starts the flashback. This chapter begins just before the start of
Lily's sixth year and the story continues on from there. I hope you give it a chance.

**Chapter One: An Awful Awakening**

"WAKE UP!"

My dreams are shattered, and abruptly I find myself once again in the waking world. That
horrible noise that you're hearing - you know that noise that sounds like a banshee having a
bad day? That sound is actually my sister Petunia. But for some reason I don't believe that
I'm actually hearing her. I crack open an eye, and yes, she's still there. I'm not
dreaming. That's funny because I dreamed I that I was dead. But I'm not. Petunia's here
in the flesh with me in my room. I almost smile, but as soon as she opens her mouth again I
immediately frown, and clap my hands over my ears.

I swear I heard a window crack.

"SHUT UP!" I yell. And she does. Amazingly!

She smirks at me, a smug look on her horse shaped face even as she cranes her long neck out the
window to steal a glimpse at the neighbor's back yard. Usually she yells at me, but today
she's only silent. What's her problem? As if she heard me, she turns to me and
announces,

"It's September first."

"Congratulations, Petunia! You now officially know the months and days of the year." I
clap my hands, and roll my eyes at her stupidity. In case you haven't figured it out yet, my
sister and I don't get along.

"Lily, it's September 1st," she repeats.

God, she is so stupid. I know it's great for her to learn the dates and everything, but
really, I only need to know what day it is once and not every five seconds.

"So I've heard," I say dryly, snuggling back into the warm sheets of my bed.

Petunia snickers as if she knows something I don't. It doesn't bother me though.
She's so gossipy, that if she is trying to keep something from me she automatically blurts it
out within three seconds. And this time is no different.

"Leave me alone Petunia," I groan, not in the mood for some of the latest details
about Vernon - the beefy boy that lives across the street.

Of course Petunia is practically ready to explode. So, yes, about five seconds later she
spills.

"Lily, don't you know that today is-" I cut her off.

"It's September 1st! I know Petunia that it's September 1st! Now for the last time
stop telling me that it's Sept-"

Oh, crap.

I sit upright in my bed. My head whips to the window where the sun's out bright and shining.
Then I glance at my calendar. The dates are all crossed off except for one. September 1st.
That's today. And underneath it Kings Cross is written in my untidy handwriting.

"What time is it!" I yell, leaping out of bad and lunging toward the clothes that I
left out the night before.

"Ten o'clock," Petunia replies, after an extremely drawn out pause. She's
smirking again. I wish I could wipe that smirk right off her face, but just when I'm
considering it, my mom walks in.

"Lily, are you ready? Lily! We have to go! You have to be there honey! Why aren't you
ready?" my mom asks, her mouth dropping.

Uh, sorry mom. I had a dream that I died and so I slept through both my alarms. But of course I
couldn't explain this to my mom because she wouldn't understand. I mean, how many people
dream about their deaths? And I don't even really remember what happened. All I remember was
these scary psycho red eyes, and lips mouthing something. Then everything went really quiet, and
time slowed down. It was sort of cool, but it was really scary. I shudder remembering the laugh I
heard just before time came to a standstill. It's been haunting my dreams a lot lately.

Before I can explain - which I wasn't going to - but at least before I could give her a good
excuse, my father knocks on the door.

"Lily?"

My mother shuts the door impatiently before he can enter. My poor father gets his fingers stuck
in the door. Ouch. But my mother is too frazzled to notice. It seems that she overslept as well,
and that we're all behind schedule.

"I don't want to rush you Lily, but I don't want to get stuck in traffic like we
did last year. So, I think that we should probably get going soon,” my father calls through the
door.

"She's getting dressed Matt,” my mother responds.

"Okay she's - she's what!? But it's already ten o'clock! We left at nine
last year, and Lily nearly missed the train!"

"I know Matthew!" my mom snaps as I frantically finish dressing, and the two of us
start collecting my things and tossing them into the trunk. Petunia just sits there on the
windowsill watching us. See! I do have a reason to hate her. I don't even have time to toss her
a glare, because I'm too busy trying to gather up my things.

"Petunia, for God's sake get up and do something!" my mother finally scolds.

"Okay fine!”

Petunia gets up, but moves at an unbearably slow pace. Instead of placing things into my trunk
she's picking them up and looking at them. Things she's never allowed to see - not that she
hasn't tried before - are suddenly at her fingertips. The first thing she sees with those tiny
grey eyes of hers is my diary. She swoops down and grabs it before I make a dash for it.

She knows I can't do anything. The moment I ask for the object back my mom's going to
want to see it. I love mom dearly but she's been dying to know if I have a love life, and she
can't understand why I don't have one. I caught her once or twice in my room looking
through my drawers because she knows I keep a diary she's just never seen it before. Poor mom.
I sort of feel bad because I used to tell her everything when I was little, but now it's
different.

"Give it back to me Petunia!" I growl, as she scampers up onto the windowsill. I race
toward her, ready to sock her, but the damage is already done.

"Why Lily, I thought you didn't keep a diary!" she exclaims, when I'm less
than a foot away.

My mother's head snaps up, and suddenly the packing is forgotten. I see that look in her
eyes. And I really do feel bad. I really do wish I could tell her everything. She understands me so
well when we talk about “me”. “Me” as in the person I used to be or little naive ten year old Lily.
And I'm sure she would understand teenage Lily too. But I can't tell her anything.

You see, there are just some things that no matter how hard I try to explain, and no matter how
hard she tries to comprehend she would never be able understand. And so she has to resort to this:
stealing my diary. Even if it means missing the train.

I want to kill Petunia, because I know I can't let Mom see what's in that. I'm going
to have to rip it from her grasp, and break Mom's heart all over again. And then she's
going to look at me sadly. And then…

I wish I could tell you Mom, but I want to keep you safe. I don't want you to have dreams
about death and I don't want you to have to live like I do. Because you'll never
understand, because you're not a wit-

CRASH!

Petunia screams, and leaps off the windowsill. I jump up into the air and catch the diary,
stuffing it into the deepest darkest corners of my trunk. Turning, I see that both Petunia and my
dear mom have forgotten about the diary. Petunia is screeching like a banshee again, and pointing
at the window. My mom is rushing over to the window, and talking to something. Immediately I
deliberately step on the cowering Petunia, and run to my mother's side.

My mother smiles, and closes the window. When she turns around I see what she's holding so
gingerly in her arms and I have to laugh.

The two of us share a knowing smile and a short laugh as she gently transfers the injured owl
that just slammed into our window to my waiting arms.

"Will Shakespeare be okay?" I ask concerned, even though I'm partly amused, since
the familiar creature - which happens to be my best friend's pet - just slammed into our window
for the hundredth time.

"He'll be fine," my mother says, smoothing down Shakespeare's feathers. The
owl opens its eyes and suddenly comes to life. It scrambles to its feet with its wings unfurling. I
barely have time to snatch the letter from its leg, before it takes off and flies over to the
opposite side of the room.

Petunia screams again and dives underneath the bed.

"Oh, you poor, poor baby. Come here beautiful," my mother coos. But she's not
talking to Petunia. She's talking to the owl, attempting to coax it down from its post atop my
bureau. Once the owl sees my mother it flies down and lands on her shoulder. And my mother walks
out of the room, talking about a very special owl treat that she has waiting for it.

Now, you may think it's weird that an owl just flew into my room. But really it isn't.
It's an every day occurrence in my life, and my mom who loves all animals has taken quite a
fancy to the frequent resident of our household. Even if he is a little flighty. Honestly, I think
the owl spends more time here at my house then with my best friend. And you probably think that my
best friend's a freak since she has an owl for a pet and she's not in a loony bin yet. And
you're probably wondering why I am still friends with her. But where she lives, everyone has
owls.

I guess I better explain. You see, I, Lily Evans, am not your average teenage girl. I'm a
witch.

There I said it.

So, now you know why I'm receiving a letter from my best friend's pet owl. And now you
can see why I can't really talk to my mom, because she isn't a witch. Oh, don't get me
wrong, she loves the fact that I'm a witch and so does my Dad. But some people -

“GET THAT THING OUT OF HERE!” My sister's sweet voice carries all the way from the kitchen,
up to my room on the second floor. Ha ha. I take it Shakespeare found Petunia. I can hear her
screaming like she's about to be murdered. Shakespeare wouldn't hurt a fly, and besides
he's probably nowhere near her.

“I SWEAR IF I SEE ONE MORE OWL FOR THAT FREAK!”

That freak would be me.

“PETUNIA!”

My sister falls silent at my mom's shout, but the damage is already done. I'm used to it
though. My sister and I used to talk, but then when I turned eleven an owl arrived saying that I
was a witch, and that I was going to a school called Hogwarts to learn about witchcraft and
wizardry and meet tons of other witches and wizards my age. My sister couldn't accept this, and
well, you see the result. We hate each other now. I used to care, but now it doesn't matter
anymore. In fact, it's easier this way for me.

I sigh, and sit down on the bed, trying to ignore whatever my sister's screaming about now
(something about someone's head appearing in the fireplace). I almost forgot about the letter
in my hand because I was so caught up in my thoughts. And then there was the whole train
incident…

Oh, no! The train!

Oh Merlin, I've got to go right now! I jump off the bed and throw open my door.

“MOM I'M GOING TO MISS THE TRAIN!”

And then I run into someone. I literally ran into the body at full force. I swear there was no
way I could stop myself. I had no idea that someone was going to be right outside of my room.
He's not prepared either, because with a muffled yelp we smash into the opposite wall of the
upstairs hallway and nearly fall to the ground.

“OW!” He yells as I hear their head connect with my mother's favorite portrait.

I look up expecting to find my nosy sister, my concerned mother, or my anxious father, but
it's not any of them. In fact, it's the very last person I expect to find in my
household.

My mouth drops, and my eyes must have gotten huge. I'm so shocked to see him inside my house
that I can't move. I just sit there, crushing him against the wall and my mother's favorite
portrait. I don't even notice that he's holding me, and that I'm clinging to him, and
that we're closer then we've ever been in all the five or six years that I've known
him. Our faces are so alarmingly close that I can feel his breath on my face, and that is extremely
scary.

You know this could have been a very romantic moment. If only it had been any other guy. Even
beefy spoiled Vernon Dursley from across the street would've been better then the guy that
I'm currently clinging to that's holding me so painfully close to his body.

I blink, hoping he will go away and be replaced with a handsome Prince Charming ready to give me
a kiss that would sweep me off my feet. But unfortunately of all the millions of eligible bachelors
in the world it had to be him.

The most arrogant, bullying, self-centered, conceited, inconsiderate, perverted, selfish, big
headed human being on the face of the earth…

“JAMES POTTER GET YOUR SLIMY HANDS OFF OF ME!”

He looks a little taken aback by my little outburst. But when he sees how serious I am, his
hands start moving right away. Not fast enough though. He's like Petunia, moving slower than a
constipated snail, and allowing his hands to pass over all the forbidden things that he'll
never get another chance to touch.

My hands creep up to his collar, and I start pulling him toward me, only to throw him back
against the wall with all my might. His head connects once more with the portrait, with a sickening
crack, and another “OW!” followed by a few profane words that would make my mother's eyes
widen.

That should teach him a lesson.

He closes his eyes and whimpers, touching the back of his head that connected not once but twice
with the family portrait. What a big baby he is! He's moaning as if he's on his death bed
and he's not even bleeding!

“Damn you Evans!” he hisses.

“You were asking for it Potter.” I smirk.

If I'm lucky, he's got a one hell of a bump on the back of his head. It's a shame
that it wasn't on the front of his face where everyone could see it. By the sound of his
exaggerated complaints, the bump should last for quite a while. Perhaps, it will be a reminder to
his wandering hands that my body is off limits.

Sadly, it probably won't get through that thick skull of his. James Potter seems to believe
that he's god's gift to woman. With his messy black hair, his wild hazel eyes, his
*adorable* smile, his *charming* manner, and his oh so *suave* moves Potter seems to
believe that he has every girl at Hogwarts drooling, staring, worshipping, and kissing the ground
that he walks on.

But he doesn't have *every* girl at Hogwarts brainwashed to think of him as their god.
At least not yet…

There a few highly intelligent females who know that he's really biggest scum bag on the
planet.

First, there's me. I personally hate - no, I despise Potter. He's so full of himself.
He's always bullying everyone else. And for those few individuals who don't hold the door
open for him or get down on their hands and knees and pray to him he makes sure that they pay the
consequences.

It's disgusting to watch how everyone else kisses the hem of his robes, and practically
licks his shoes. I swear if he told them to jump off a bridge they would gladly do it before he
even finished saying the word bridge. I'm embarrassed and humiliated to call myself a female
student at Hogwarts after watching some of those girls do back flips through flaming hoops just to
get a mere glance from his direction.

Thankfully there are others who feel the same as I do.

Like…

Um…

Well, there are others. Their names have just slipped my mind temporarily.

As I sit here racking my brain for the missing names, someone's running up the steps. I look
at James, who's still leaning against the wall trying to get an ounce of sympathy out of me
(which is not going to happen in a million years). But suddenly, it hits me that James Potter is a
male in my house, and that someone's going to see him. Automatically my brain kicks into panic
mode. If my father sees his little girl within five feet of anything even remotely male, both James
and I are dead. Daddy is very over protective of me. He seems to believe that all boys and men are
going to hurt me. He doesn't seem to grasp the concept that I am a sixteen year old witch that
can take care of herself.

Oh, don't get me wrong, he knows I'm not weak. He just loves me a lot, and he just
doesn't trust guys at all.

My heart leaps into my throat. I have to do something!

Impulsively I grab James, and pull him into the bathroom. Then I lock the door behind us.
James's eyes widen behind his glasses, when he sees me locking the door.

“Evans what--” I cover his mouth with my hand, immediately silencing him with my most urgent,
desperate look.

I listen for the sound of the footsteps but it seems that they stopped. Slowly I remove my hand
from James's mouth, and pressing a finger to my mouth, I tiptoe over to the door. I press my
ear against it trying to listen. But I can't hear a thing because someone's breathing
loudly in my ear.

I look up and come within inches of James's face. He's practically breathing down my
neck. What is it with him? Does he always have to get so close to people? Doesn't he realize
that it annoys people?

“Shut up!” I hiss.

“I'm not saying anything,” James whispers back, a little too loud for my liking.

“You're breathing too loudly.”

“I'm so sorry Ms. Evans. I'll just stop breathing altogether,” James says
sarcastically.

“Could you? Thanks that would do the world all a huge favor.” I press my ear against the door
again but once again I'm distracted.

James is panting in my ear. The git! He's doing it on purpose just to annoy me.

“Potter, I told you to stop breathing!” I snap.

“I can't, and even if I could I wouldn't!”

“Well, you better change your mind, because I can't hear a thing with you over there
breathing like you just ran a marathon.”

“Evans, I could hear you breathing from the other side of the room.”

“It's amazing you can hear anything else when you're panting like a thirsty hot
dog.”

James starts laughing at my choice of words. He's so loud. He doesn't even bother to
muffle it.

“Shut up!” I say, hitting him.

“Make me,” he challenges, smirking.

James just laughs louder as I hit him again with a little more force. But it's hard to sock
someone when you're squished against them in a small bathroom that you barely fit into. I try
to cover his mouth again, but James is stronger then me and pushes my hands away. Instead he grabs
my arms in his hands, holding me captive. The laughter stops and he smirks.

“So Evans, why don't you tell me why you locked us both inside of the bathroom.” I squirm
trying to pull my arms free, but James just tightens his hold on me.

“I was trying to save your life, but that obviously proved to be a mistake.”

James looks both puzzled and stunned. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut?

“You care about me Evans?” he asks.

Oh! How I hate him! Right now, I really wish I had left him out in the hallway. Or better yet, I
should've told my Dad that he was harassing me. Why did I think for a second that the
ungrateful spoiled brat would thank me? Why on earth would I ever wish to save his life? What
possessed me to do that?

“You wish Potter!”

I pull back with all my might, and finally come loose from his grip. Then I fling open the door,
and the two of us stumble into the hallway. Immediately, a hand grabs James and forcefully lifts
him to his feet.

“I can't leave you alone for a minute! I turned my back on you for a second and you were
gone! What in the Wizarding World were you thinking!” I get to my feet, and find to my delight that
a tall raven haired girl is scolding James.

I recognize that voice immediately. When the girl turns her head, I find myself looking into yet
another familiar face. As soon as her blue eyes meet mine she breaks into a grin.

“Gracie!” I yell, throwing my arms around her.

“Lily!” she squeals, hugging me.

Grace Adams is my best friend. We've been friends since we first started Hogwarts together,
five years ago. We met in Diagon Alley with Potter, and then later we shared a boat with Potter,
and then we were both sorted into Gryffindor with Potter. Even though I've only known her for
five years, I feel like we've known each other our whole life.

The fact that she's immune to the Potter charm only strengthens our friendship. Gracie is
related to James. Don't ask me how, but they're cousins, or second cousins, or something
like that. I look at my best friend, and then back at James. How could someone so incredibly kind
and selfless share the same blood as this selfish prat standing beside us?

If they hadn't told me I would have never believed that they were related. Gracie
doesn't even look like him. Well, except for having the same hair color, and the same nose, she
looks nothing like him.

I'm hoping that Grace is going to start scolding her cousin again, but she doesn't.
Instead she looks at both of us.

“What were you doing in the bathroom?” she asks with a mischievous grin.

“NOTHING!” I shout.

“We were--”

“—doing NOTHING!” I interrupt, giving him a fierce glare. If he tries to make something up,
I'm going to make sure that he wishes he was never born.

“Evans, we spent a whole blissful ten minutes in there, and you say that we were doing nothing?
I'm hurt,” James says with a very bad imitation of a sad face.

I punch his arm, hard. James yelps, and grabs his injured arm with yet another interesting curse
word. When Gracie gives us a look, James immediately points the finger at me.

“She's trying to kill me, Gracie! First, she knocks me over when I arrive, and then she
tries to crack my skull open with the family portrait!”

My mouth drops. He forgot to mention the part where he showed up in my house unexpected, and
uninvited, and then he wouldn't let go of me.

“Lily!” Gracie groans.

“He was groping me!” I yell defensively.

“James!” Gracie hits him upside the head, her eyes flashing.

“I did not!” James lies.

“Then why did you have her locked in the bathroom with you?” Gracie demands.

James again blames me.

“Evans abducted me! After she unsuccessfully tries to kill me with a family portrait, out of the
blue she grabs me and pulls me into the bathroom with her. Then she locks the door behind us, and
tells me to shut up and be quiet. If that's not a murder waiting to happen, then I'll eat
my sneaker,” he says, feigning innocence.

“You better eat it, because I was trying to save your life!”

“So, you admit that you care about me Evans!” James grins triumphantly.

My blood's boiling. Boy, do I regret saving the git's life.

“Hell no!”

“Yes you do.”

“I do not!”

“Come here Evans.” He tries to grab me, but I shriek and hide behind Gracie. James tries to get
around Gracie, but I wrap my arms around her and bury my head into her back.

“Please Gracie, make him leave me alone,” I beg.

Gracie sighs, but when I refuse to let go of her, she tells James to sod off or she'll tell
his mom. James immediately stops trying to chase after me, and I come out from behind my protective
shield.

“You love me Evans,” he whispers to me, when Gracie's not looking. She's rummaging
around in her pockets for something.

“Only in your dreams Potter,” I snort

“Will you two knock it off?” Gracie snaps.

“I wasn't doing anything!” we both say at the same time.

“Sure you weren't.” Gracie at last finds what she is looking for, and removes it from her
pocket. Her eyes widen and she stuffs the object back into her pocket.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you have your stuff?” she demands, looking around.

“It's in my room,” I answer, blankly.

“Where's your room?” Gracie asks.

She's never been to my house before, neither has James. I suddenly realize how strange it is
that they're here now. And my parents, wouldn't they have noticed that two teenagers showed
up at my house? Not to mention that one of them was a teenage BOY. How weird.

I lead the way to my room. I hold the door open for Gracie, but slam the door in James's
face. There's no way that he is coming into my room.

“Evans's trying to kill me again!” he whines, banging on the door. “Come on, let me in!”

“So this is your room?” Gracie asks softly, walking around and looking at all the objects
cluttering my desk. She pauses to pick up a book here, and there, and a small photograph of my
parents.

“Yea, home sweet home,” I reply glumly. “Do you like it?”

“I love it!” she exclaims flopping down on my bed.

I smile and sit down on the bed beside her. I've missed her. My summer was so lonely, and
boring, and now suddenly my best friend, and of all people, Potter, show up inside my house. I look
at Gracie.

“Gracie?”

“Yea?”

“Um, what are you doing here?” I ask curiously.

Gracie who is currently inspecting the stuff on my bedside table, suddenly freezes. The moving
portrait of Gracie, me, and our fellow dorm mates drops from her hands with a clatter. Hurriedly,
she stands up, and moves to replace it in its original place.

“You know why I'm here Lily.”

“Uh no, I don't think I do.”

Gracie looks at me, frowning.

“Didn't you read my letter?” she asks sharply.

“You never sent me a let--” I stop. My hand automatically goes to my pocket where I put the
unread letter that had arrived only minutes before James's unexpected arrival. In my haste to
catch the train, I never even thought to read it. Oh crap, the train!

“We're going to miss the train!” I exclaim, springing to my feet.

Gracie laughs darkly, a weird expression crossing her face. Something's wrong.

“Forget about the train, it's not leaving today.”

“What?”

“I take it you didn't read my letter,” she says with a sigh, nodding to the letter in my
hand.

“I'm sorry. I meant to, but I thought I was going to miss the train. And then my sister was
yelling, and James showed up, and now you're both here. And you're telling me that the
train isn't leaving, and I'm so confused. Can you please tell me what's going on?” I
beg.

“I guess it's better if I tell you in person anyway.” Gracie runs a hand through her hair,
pacing for a moment. Then she stops and makes a gesture toward the bed.

“You better sit down, because this might come as a bit of a shock to you,” she says.

Obediently I sit down. My heart's thudding in my chest, and I realize that I'm scared of
whatever she's going to tell me. I notice for the first time as Gracie paces back and forth in
front of me, wringing her hands, how upset and anxious she looks. It just adds to my growing
fear.

“Just tell me!” I blurt out, unable to take it anymore.

Gracie takes a deep breath and faces me.

“I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE LET ME IN!”

Count on James to ruin everything. The selfish brat only thinks of himself. He's threatening
to break down the door, and if he's not careful, he just might. I get up fully intending to
give him a piece of my mind.

“LET ME IN!”

“NO!”

“GRACIE! MAKE HER OPEN THE DOOR!” James yells.

“Let him in,” Gracie says, softly.

I open my mouth to protest, but Gracie shakes her head at me.

“Please Lily, just do it.”

Sulkily, and reluctantly, I open the door and let the spoiled brat inside. He smirks at me, and
I stick my tongue out at him. Real mature, Lily. Real mature. I close the door again, and James
goes over to Gracie. The two of them are holding a whispered conversation when I turn around, but
stop as soon as I come within hearing distance.

“Alright,” I demand, folding my arms over my chest, and sitting down on the bed in front of
them. “You're going to tell me right now what's going on.”

**A/N**: So that's the first REAL chapter. What do you think? Constructive Criticism
would be greatly appreciated.

-->



3. Broken Beginnings
--------------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** I own *Shakespeare, Grace (Lily's best friend), Christopher,*
*Mark* and *Hope*. Oh and I suppose *See* and *Strangeways* are mine as well.
Of course everything else belongs to the amazing JK Rowling.

**Chapter 2: Broken Beginnings**

Gracie and James exchange an uneasy look. A long pause follows, and the two of them seem to be
engaged in a silent struggle.

“Well, tell her Gracie,” James says, finally. See, he's so selfish!

“Me?” Gracie squeaks. “You were the one who wanted to come along.”

Typical James, as usual he's only thinking of himself.

“But she's your best friend!” James protests, weakly.

“Then why did you come?”

“Guys-” I try to cut in but James talks over me.

“I needed to come, because you can't travel by yourself.”

“Uh, guys-” I clear my throat and interrupt, but Gracie is on a roll.

“I am perfectly capable of taking myself! I'm a sixteen year old witch who's a hell of a
lot smarter then you.”

Go Gracie! Take that James!

“I'm not questioning that, and you know it,” James says, lowering his voice.

Gracie and James stare at each other, and I almost have a heart attack. James is serious.
What's going on? James is never serious! Never! Something is so wrong, and I am so in the dark
right now. Literally, a shadow has passed over me. I look up trying to find the source of the
darkness and find a large black thing in my window, blocking the sunlight. I almost scream, but
then I realize that it's only an abnormally large owl tapping at my window.

James walks over and opens the window, allowing not one but three owls to fly inside.

A large barn owl flies over to me, dropping yet another letter into my lap. Instead of sticking
around, it turns and soars out the window into the sky. The second owl is Shakespeare, and
immediately lands on Gracie's shoulder. A big black owl remains perched on the window sill, and
James cautiously approaches it.

“Well that was fast,” Gracie says to Shakespeare, taking the letter.

Hurriedly, we both open our letters and read the contents.

“My parents say it's alright if you stay with us Lily. Mind you, I was going to bring you
home even if they said no. Shakespeare stop pecking at me, I have no more owl treats,” Gracie
laughs.

I have to read my letter a second time.

*Dear Ms. Evans,*

*Due to the circumstances, the first day of the Hogwarts school year has been postponed to
September 4th. The train will leave from King's Cross at nine a.m. on September the 4th.
We're terribly sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.*

*Sincerely,*

*Robert F. See*

*Head of the H.S.B.*

*Hogwarts School Board*

“September the 4th?! What?!”

Gracie calmly takes the letter from me, glances over it and then hands it back to me.

“You got yours late. James and I got ours last night, but I suppose they're going crazy over
there because of everything that happened.”

“What happened?” I ask. I think I'm going to go insane if someone doesn't tell me
what's going on within the next three seconds.

But before she can reply, James interrupts. As usual, the boy has perfect timing. He taps Gracie
on the shoulder and hands her a letter. I think about forcing him to tell me, but James has a dazed
expression on his face, and looks a little shaken up. I've never seen him like this before. I
watch as Grace finishes the black owl's letter. Her eyes widen and all of the color drains from
her face.

“James,” she whispers. “Is this true?”

“It must be,” James replies, softly.

“What? What?” I ask.

Neither James nor Grace answers me. They're absorbed by the letter they're currently
pouring over for the third time.

“What?” I ask again. I'm sick and tired of being in the dark. Don't they realize how
this is driving me insane? “What's true? What's going on? What happened? Why is school
delayed? Why did that owl give you that letter? What does it say? Why are you here?”

James looks up as if noticing that I'm here for the first time. He elbows Grace, and she
looks up and sees me too. It's as if they didn't even hear me. I would repeat myself but
that scared look in their eyes, and those sad expressions on their faces are new to me.

“I think we should get going,” James says, nudging Gracie, who seems to be in a trance.

“Get going, yea, we really should g-g-get g-g-going,” Gracie repeats, stammering. She glances at
the letter, reads it a final time and then tries to stuff it into her pocket. Her hands are shaking
so badly that she can't do it. James takes it from her and places it in his own pocket.

“Get your stuff Lily,” James says.

“Tell me what's going on,” I demand.

“Look, we'll tell you when we get there. Let's just get out of here.”

The two of us stand there staring at each other. I open my mouth, but instead of ordering him to
tell me everything, I notice James looking at Grace and close it.

I'm not going to take orders from him. But Grace looks so helpless standing there beside
James that I have to break one of my rules to live by and do exactly what Potter wants me to
do.

I get my stuff. James takes Grace by the arm and I lead us from the room.

“Where's the fireplace again?” James asks.

“The fireplace? Is that how you got here?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. No wonder Petunia was
having a hissy fit.

“The Floo network.”

I don't even ask. Just this once I'm going to have to make an exception and try to
cooperate with Potter. Just this once! And it's only because it's such a rare circumstance.
So I bring them downstairs and into the living room, that's now mysteriously empty.

“Shouldn't I tell my parents?” I ask, realizing why it's so quiet.

“Gracie already told them you're coming to stay with us,” James replies, taking something
from a pouch from his pocket.

“The fire went out,” he mutters, taking his wand out now and pointing it at my unsuspecting
fireplace. He tries to light a fire, but nothing happens. James looks at his wand, and I try hard
not to laugh. James must have noticed because he turns to me.

“If you're so smart, why don't you try?” he asks, sharply.

“Fine, I will,” I take out my wand from my pocket and smugly point it at the fireplace. But no
flames emerge. Now I'm the one looking at my wand, confused and puzzled. James smirks.

“Not so smart anymore, are you Evans?” he says, smartly.

“James,” Gracie groans and closes her eyes.

“Not so cocky anymore, are you Potter?” I retort.

“James!” Gracie says louder, tugging on his sleeve.

James immediately sees to his cousin and I hurry over to her, seeing what kind of condition
she's in. She looks as if she's about to be sick.

“What is it?” he asks, gently. “What is it Gracie?” he asks again, taking her hands in his.

“The Floo Network,” she says swallowing hard. She's having difficulty speaking, because
she's swallowing so much. Is she sick? Did the letter make her ill? “It's shut down,” she
manages to spit out after some gentle coaxing on James's part.

“What?” James and I ask at the same time, stunned.

“Ministry…” Grace chokes, wiping furiously at her mysteriously watery eyes. “Lock down, no Floo
network.” She coughs, turning her back on us to attend to her runny eyes. It appears that my friend
has caught a cold from the black owl's letter.

James and I stare at each other.

“The Floo network's-”

“- been shut down,” James finishes my sentence.

We continue to stare at each other. Now I'm really confused, and really scared. I'm not
even sure if I want to know what could be so bad that would make the Ministry go into lock down and
shut down the floo network not to mention delay Hogwart's opening.

“Mother of Merlin!” James runs a hand through his hair. I have to sit down and by the looks of
it, so does James. I grab James and pull him over to the couch. The two of us sit down on the couch
opposite Grace, who curls up in my father's arm chair.

“We're stuck here!” Grace moans, breaking the rare silence.

“No we're not,” James assures her but he sounds almost as lost as Gracie looks.

“YES WE ARE!” she shouts, her voice cracking.

I get a good look at her face, and any feeling of dread, terror and fear that I had before is
now multiplied by a hundred. Her eyes are red rimmed and puffy, and her pale cheeks are streaked
with tears. She's crying, my god, Grace Adams is crying.

My eyes must be deceiving me, they must be! Grace Adams has never cried before in her life!
Never! She didn't cry when that Slytherin broke her leg in Quidditch (POTTER'S fault), or
when a group of Slytherins humiliated us in front of the entire school (because of POTTER). She
didn't even think of crying when Filch threatened to expel us (thanks to POTTER). In all these
scenarios, I did start to cry, being the cowardly wimp that I am, but Gracie was there to hold me
up and never, ever did she shed a single tear.

But she's shedding tears now, lots of them. I don't think James has ever seen her cry
before either, because he's shaking too, and he keeps looking at me with this weird expression
on his face. Our eyes meet, and I see now the truth in my theory, we're both terrified. I
don't even know what's going on and I'm scared!

A sob escapes Gracie's mouth, as she hides her head once more. Feeling brave, I leave James
behind and walk over to her. Her shoulders are visibly shaking with silent convulsive sobs. And now
I'm trembling like a leaf.

Grace always comforted me, not the other way around! Gracie was the pillar of strength, the one
that held us both up. Not me! She was always so strong, so brave. What could possibly be so bad, so
terrible, so awful that could possibly make her break down and cry like this!?

“Grace?” I ask fearfully, tapping her shoulder.

She doesn't respond, but instead turns away from me, stuffing her face into a cushion. How
can I comfort her when I don't even know what's going on or why she's crying? (Again
it's thanks to the selfish spoiled brat that I don't know anything.)

“Gracie,” I whisper, gently.

Shakily, I lay my hands on her shoulders, wrapping my arms around her. She freezes. But then she
starts to move away. I bite down hard on my lip and try not to let go of her squirming form. She
struggles against me, but for once I'm the stronger one, and she tires quickly of the fight. I
hold her quivering form in my arms, restraining her movement.

And then she crumbles, dissolving into loud sobs, clinging to me, as if I'm the only thing
that could hold us up. I'm unprepared for it all, but somehow I manage to hold her, and calm
her, and comfort my best friend, repaying her for all the times that she was there for me. I'm
not really there though, someone else seems to have taken control of the body of Lily Evans and is
directing my movements. It's surreal. Grace Adams, my pillar of strength and my best friend is
crying, Hogwarts is delayed, the ministry has gone into lock down and James Potter is sitting in
the same room as me with his head between his hands, looking more humble and serious than he ever
has in his life. I stayed there, for who knows how long, the minutes and hours bled together, and
Gracie cried so much that she wore herself out entirely. My Mom returned and left, and next thing I
know James is trying to take Gracie away from me.

“No,” I whisper, weakly shaking my head as he tries to untangle her arms from mine. Glancing
down I see that she's sound asleep. Again James tries to move her, but I shake my head and move
myself, leaving Gracie curled up in the arm chair.

“Lily-”

I press a finger to my lips, throwing a meaningful glance in Gracie's directions. I touch
his arm and point toward the adjoining room.

“We can talk in there,” I mouth to him. James nods and silently we tip toe into the kitchen.

James pulls a chair out for me, and I drop right into it. Hesitantly, he takes the seat beside
me. For a few minutes the two of us just sit in silence, staring blankly ahead of us. The silence
is unbearable. I have to say something, this is just too awkward!

“I didn't want to wake her,” I say, finally.

“I know,” he replies, nodding again.

Again we lapse into silence. I can't resist looking at James. He's so, so… serious. No
not Sirius that's his best friend. He's almost as perverted and cocky as Potter. If it
wasn't for Remus, the only semi-normal one in their little play group, I swear their heads
would get to be the size of Hogwarts and explode. But right now Potter, is well, solemn. He looks
as if the Quidditch game's just been canceled, oh wait, it probably was.

Maybe that was it, maybe Gracie was crying over Quidditch. I mean she loves Quidditch. Only
Potter loves Quidditch more than she does. But my best friend isn't that shallow. No, Gracie
would never cry over a Quidditch game. Potter would, but not Gracie.

I glance over at James again, and find him looking right at me. Even if he is a stuck up spoiled
brat, James Potter, has always looked like a half decent guy upon first glance. That lasts for
about a second, then you get a real good look at him, and you see that he's actually full of
himself and a perverted jerk. But now, the usual get-down-on-your-knees-and-worship-me look is gone
from his face. And I have to admit he's kind of-

“Lily?” James interrupts, causing me to blink and arrive back on planet earth. But that alien
(that has temporarily taken over Potter's body) is still there and looks genuinely concerned
about my well being, and not about whether he can get me in a closet with them.

“What?” I ask, confused and a little embarrassed.

“I asked if you wanted something to eat or some tea,” James, or rather the alien, says.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I'll have some tea I guess,” I mumble, so that he'll get up and leave the
table.

But James, as always, never leaves when I ask him too.

He stays there watching me. I fidget in my seat, examining the fascinating design of the wooden
table top. A minute goes by and he's still looking at me and he still hasn't moved from the
chair. He's making me uncomfortable. Nervously, I tap the table top keeping time with a popular
song from the magical world that I can't remember the words to. His hand flies out and captures
mine, freezing the nervous movement of my fingers. Reluctantly I look up at him.

“Lily, are you alri-”

“I'll make the tea,” I interrupt, jumping up from the chair. Unfortunately, James is still
holding onto my hand. I try to gently pull my hand away, but James just tightens his hold.

“You're avoiding the question,” he points out softly. His eyes never leave mine.

“Can you please let go?” I ask politely, ignoring the question for the second time. James
doesn't appear to hear me because now he's holding on so tightly, that I think he's
cutting off my circulation. I don't think he realizes he's holding my hand and restraining
me. His mind has already left and that blank, dazed look is back on his face.

With an apologetic smile, I twist back a few of his fingers with my free hand. James flinches,
and I rub my now purple hand. I swear it was purple. James Potter must be a lot stronger than I
thought.

“Sorry,” I apologize, halfheartedly.

“No, I'm sorry,” he sighs, coming back to reality. That alien must be in his body still
because James Potter just apologized. James Potter never apologizes because James Potter thinks
he's so perfect that he believes that he's ALWAYS right.

He gets to his feet and stretches. I observe not for the first time in my life, why so many
girls date Quidditch players. Quidditch, though it causes rivalry between the houses, lets students
get away with stuff, makes them less studious not to mention that it's downright dangerous and
sometimes has fatal results, is actually good for something. James Potter has a nice body, did I
mention that before? If he wasn't such a selfish little brat, I'd probably be thinking he
was a sex god as well. Wait am I really thinking that? It's this alien, he's throwing me
off course entirely.

“I'm going to check on Gracie.”

I nod, because I can't say anything. My tongue's temporarily stuck, and I refuse to open
my mouth, for fear that I might drool.

This is too much for me. Am I dreaming? This must be some sort of twisted dream/nightmare, you
know those dreams that you wake up from and you can't decide whether it was just a bad dream or
a good nightmare. Actually I think this is just one crazy dream with no explanation whatsoever,
that I'm going to have a good laugh about when I wake up. Yeah, this is all a dream, starting
with the fact that I dreamed in this dream that I died? This is too complicated to be a dream, too
crazy to be a dream. Even my subconscious could not create a dream with me dreaming that I died,
James Potter and Grace Adams showing up at my house unannounced, Hogwarts being closed for a few
days, the Ministry going into lock down, Grace breaking down and me comforting her, James Potter
being taken over by a alien and suddenly acting NICE, and finally me, looking at Potter and still
not knowing what the hell is going on.

I cross the kitchen, and search for the tea kettle. Perhaps the steam will clear my head,
because that's what I desperately need. I'm a bundle of nerves right now and it's
starting to screw up my train of thought.

It takes me five whole minutes to find a tea kettle that I usually locate in five seconds. Now I
know I'm a basket case. I retrieve the tea kettle from on top of the refrigerator where we
always keep it and set it on the stove.

A few minutes later I realize that it needs water. That would've been good. Sorry Mom, I
forgot that the tea kettle needed water. I didn't mean to burn down the house!

Shaking my head, I walk over to the sink and turn on the water. It's a nice day outside and
I think of days like this at Hogwarts. Gracie and I would be sitting by the lake, kicking off our
shoes and socks and dipping our feet into the tepid lake. The sun would be just starting to go
down, sinking into the trees and darkness of the Forbidden Forest, and a small black dot against
the sky, a lone owl returning to the owlery would be soaring to-

I drop the kettle into the sink. The black owl comes closer and closer until it finally stops
outside my kitchen window. I stare at it, and its two beady black eyes stare back at me. It hovers
there holding a letter in its beak, and tapping the glass loudly with its beak.

I blink, and realize that I have to open the window.

The owl flies inside, but goes no further then the window sill. It ruffles its feathers and
flutters about for a minute or two, watching me. I hold out my hand, the owl eyes it and then
carefully places the precious letter into it. Then it takes off again. I almost smile. You have to
admit that it's funny. Today I've had about five owls flying in and out of my house. Mom
would be thrilled to have so many little creatures to feed. Petunia would be rabid. What would the
neighbors think? I snicker and turn to the letter in my hand.

The letter's not for me, it's for Mr. James Potter. It's got his name on it, not
mine. But it looks exactly like the one that Gracie received this morning and I know that it was
the same owl. I flip the letter over and recognize the seal. It's from the Ministry. My heart
speeds up.

I hold the answers in my hand. All I have to do is open it. James would never know. I could just
fold it back up. And besides it's his own fault for not letting Grace tell me and then
insisting that we wait until we get back to Gracie's house which could be years from now for
all I know. Then to top it all off Grace starts crying and I have no idea why. Curiosity gets the
better of me. I've been in the dark for too long. I'm going to open it. Quickly, I glance
over each of my shoulders. James is no where to be found.

Carefully, I break the seal, trying not to make it too noticeable, incase I do decide to play
dummy. Then I unfold the letter, bracing myself for whatever it might contain.

But nothing could prepare me for what it said.

*Dear Mr. James Potter,*

*We regret to inform you that on this morning of September 1st 1975, the Adam's household
was attacked. The bodies of Mr. Mark Adams as well as young Mr. Christopher Adams were found in the
wreckage.*

*The circumstances are unexplainable, but we assure you that we have already started a
thorough investigation. We are doing everything possible to maintain the safety of you and your
family. At this time Mrs. Hope Adams and Ms. Grace Adams are still missing. We are unsure whether
this attack was at all connected to the recent set of attacks that swept through the magical
community this past month. We will inform you if there is a change in the status of either Mrs.
Hope Adams or Ms. Grace Adams.*

*Sincerely,*

*Anthony Strangeways*

*Assistant Minister*

Gracie's father and little brother are dead.

They're

D

E

A

D

Twelve year old boys like Gracie's little brother Christopher just don't die. I went to
school with him. He was going to try out for Quidditch this year! He was going to be the new
chaser! He was going to be a Marauder. He can't be dead! He was a good wizard and a very good
student. Middle aged fathers like Gracie's dad, Mark, aren't supposed to die either. He
worked for the Ministry. He can't be dead if he's a wizard who works at the Magical
Ministry. It's the wizarding world so I know they weren't sick and that it wasn't a car
accident, but I know for some reason that they're dead.

But how? This is the magical world! People just don't die randomly, magic's supposed to
extend your lifetime, not kill you at twelve! How did they die? Why did they die?

I try to move, but I start to sway left and right. I lose my balance and fall backwards. Slowly,
I slide down to the tiled floor. Seated on the cold floor, I pull my knees up to my chest and lean
back against the cabinets. I rock back and forth, trying to find some sort of comfort.

Oh, dear god.

I'm so confused, I'm so lost. None of this makes sense! I should be waking up from this
insane dream. But I'm not, I'm not going to wake up.

Welcome to reality.

I gasp for breath, struggling to keep that awful lump down and my eyes from blurring. But the
tears bubble up in my throat as I think of James with that dazed, solemn look, and Gracie bawling
for the first time in her life, and then I think of Gracie's warm hearted Dad who was always
trying to help us, and Chris, who became my unofficially adopted little brother during the previous
year. The letter slips off my lap and I bury my face in my hands.

No.

Wake up.

Wake up!

No, I have to wake up!

“Lily!”

They're waking me up now, I know they are.

“LILY!”

I pull my head up and see James kneeling down in front of me. But I'm still in the kitchen,
and I'm still wearing the same thing. I'm not waking up. Why?

“Merlin Lily, what happened?”

I shake my head, unable to reply.

“Are you okay?”

I look at him as if he's insane.

“NO JAMES I AM NOT OKAY!” I scream. “DO I LOOK OKAY TO YOU!?” My voice breaks and my head drops
into my hands. Wake me up, please.

“Lily, Lily please look at me. Tell me what's wrong.” Gently he takes my face in his hands
and forces me to look at him.

“You want to know what's wrong James? I'll tell you what's wrong.” I pick up the
letter and wave it around in front of his face.

“This is what's wrong! Twelve year old boys and their fathers are not supposed to be dying!
It's not supposed to happen, not in the magical world. It can happen in the muggle world, but
not in your world James. Not in your world, not in *our* world.” James' eyes widen when he
sees the letter and he grabs it from me.

“Where did you get this?” he asks.

“An owl came.”

“But it's addressed to me.”

I break down all over again. The play dummy theory is thrown out the window and now the
confession starts gushing from my lips.

“I'm sorry James, I knew it was addressed to you and I shouldn't have opened it. But I
had to know what was going on. The Ministry just doesn't go into lock down on a daily
basis.”

“Lily-”

“Grace was crying James! My best friend was crying and I didn't know why. If it was Sirius
wouldn't you want to know James?”

“Yes, but Lily-”

“I was in the dark and you wouldn't tell me anything!”

“Lily-”

“Don't you dare “Lily” me! I had every right to open that letter and you know it.”

“I KNOW!” James shouts.

He grabs me by the shoulders, lowering his head so that we're on eye level. I'm shocked
to see how terrible he looks. All of the color has drained out of his face. His skin is so white
that it's almost transparent. He's shaking again, holding onto me for dear life. And I
realize that somehow my hands found their own way to his chest and shoulders. I'm still crying,
but even my sobs have been silenced by the grief expressed in two single words. And I'm holding
onto him. I'm clinging to my last thread of sanity, James.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes searching mine. “We, no I, should've told you everything,
but Lily there's just so much to explain.”

“I know,” I say, nodding.

“No, you don't know!” he snaps. I wince. James notices because he closes his eyes and
inhales. When he opens them, he's calm again.

“There's just a lot about the wizarding world that you don't understand.”

“You're right,” I reply. “But it's not my fault. I'm a Mudblood, remember?”

“You're a Muggleborn, and I didn't say it was-”

“Why didn't you tell me?” I exclaim.

“Like I said before, there's too much to explain.”

“You mean there's more. Did Gracie's mom die too? Is the sky falling? Is the world
coming undone? Are we in danger? Is Gracie going to die? Are we going to die?”

James looks as if he's just had the wind knocked out of him.

“Answer me! I want to know, please tell me!” I plead, tugging on his shirt collar, and pawing at
his shirt. I'm begging him to give me answers. I need a thread of hope, and knowledge is the
only thing that I can think of. I mean I've hit rock bottom, there's no way it can get
worse.

Right?

“I don't know,” he finally answers. “But the sky's not falling…yet.”

I look at him and he looks at me.

Wrong.

“Merlin,” I whisper. “The world's coming to an end.”

And James doesn't agree, but he doesn't disagree either.

Instead he just wraps his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. He starts to gently stroke my
hair. It's weird, because this is Potter. I should be slapping him across the face right now,
or at least telling him that Gracie's the one that needs comforting not me. And then suddenly
it hits me.

“Oh, God. James, I'm so sorry,” I apologize, my arms sliding around him.

“I know,” he whispers.

I start to cry, again, and James just holds onto me, burying his face into my hair, and resting
his cheek occasionally against mine. I could have sworn I felt a hot tear slide down my cheek that
wasn't my own, and I thought the top of my head was damp, but maybe I was just imagining
it.

I think about telling him how sorry I am, but the words can't do anything but make the wound
deeper. So instead I rub his back and whisper in his ear over and over again.

“I'm here, I'm right here.”

Together we rock back and forth, tears pouring down my face. He clings to me, and I cling to
him.

“I know Lily, I know,” he breathes.

**A/N**: I'm sure you're still confused. Confusion is what Lily's feeling right
now so I left A LOT of things unexplained to show how she's in the dark and this makes her even
more scared. Thanks so much for reviewing, it helps me improve my writing!

-->



4. Stuck in this Nightmare
--------------------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** I own Shakespeare, the Adams family, Gabriella Mirabella and the world's
largest snail.

**A/N**: *Thank you so much for reviewing!!! I hope you enjoy this chapter too and let me
know what you think!*

**Chapter 3: Stuck in this Nightmare**

I open my eyes and look around. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust because the sun has gone
down. When they finally do, I notice that it's not night yet, just dusk, and that it's
about half past seven. Outside the shadows mingle with the final purplish glow, the aftermath of
what might have been a glorious sunset had Gracie, James and I been there to witness it. But inside
there's nothing but suspicious shadows and a dim eerie light that bathes the kitchen cabinets
and the table, exposing their flaws and making them almost unrecognizable.

I know that if I turn on the light, everything will look the same as it always does, but right
now everything looks different. It's as if I'm viewing the world in a whole different
light. Suddenly my big bright cheery fantasy world has collapsed around me and I'm faced with
problems and fears that I was never aware of before. It's all because of that horrible letter.
A part of me wishes that I had never opened it.

I shudder, remembering what information a single piece of paper contained. An arm tightens
around my shoulders. Startled, I look up and find James staring off into space with a troubled
expression on his face. I forgot about him. I must have drifted off or zoned out for a few
minutes.

James glances down and notices that I'm back on planet earth and wide awake, unfortunately.
I'm still hoping that this is an insane nightmare that I'm going to wake up from, but it
appears that this insane nightmare is my life.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Hi,” James replies, quietly. Then he looks back at the telephone that he's been staring
aimlessly at for Merlin only knows how long. He must really be out of it if he finds a telephone
that fascinating.

Maybe I should give him some time by himself. His uncle and cousin just died. He might want to
be alone. And I'm aching all over. I guiltily admit that sitting wrapped in James's arms
was quite comfy, but now the handles on the kitchen cabinets are starting to dig into my back, and
the tile's so cold and hard beneath me. I move my legs and fidget, trying to get into a more
comfortable position.

It's no use though, and James doesn't even appear to notice that I exist. I start moving
discreetly away from him, trying not to wreck his intent concentration on the telephone. I
wouldn't want him to lose any staring contests with an inanimate object.

Again James surprises me. He notices, not only that, but he helpfully removes his arm from my
shoulder.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” I ask, realizing that James asked me that same line a
couple of hours ago.

James shakes his head.

“Are you sure?” I ask, studying him.

He thinks it over.

“How about a cup of tea?” I ask, hopefully. He looks so hopeless sitting there on the floor like
a lost little boy. I remember how Mom would make me tea whenever I was sick or upset about
something. It always cheered me up because it made me feel grown up. Mom would sit across from me
and listen intently to everything I had to say. And when I finished, she always had an explanation
and a solution. She knew everything and could solve anything. Right up until the day I received my
letter from Hogwarts announcing that I was a witch.

Mom didn't have an explanation for that, and she couldn't answer any of my questions or
solve any of the problems that I began to encounter. That was when I realized that I was alone in
the magical world and learned to stand on my own two feet.

“I'll make tea,” I say, patting his arm. What else can I say? It's not my uncle and
cousin that died.

I get to my feet slowly and reach for the kettle. It's still in the sink, behind James. The
water's already running and I haven't even touched it. Oh no. I left the tap running,
again. I slap my forehead. Dad's going to have a fit when he sees the water bill this month. I
shut off the water, step over James, and light the stove, leaving it to boil.

Quietly, I approach James and kneel down in front of him.

“James?”

James doesn't answer. His eyes are level with mine, but instead of looking into my eyes
they're looking right through me. I swear he has X-ray vision or something, because I can
almost feel two holes being burned right through my eyes and out the back of my head. It's
starting to creep me out, so against my better judgment I say his name again instead of leaving him
alone.

“James?”

No reply.

Great. Now it's a zombie that's inhabiting James Potter's body.

I sigh, wondering what to do now that I've lost contact with James. Perhaps he'll come
around once I make the tea. Give him time. He'll be okay, just give him some time.

I get up off the floor, and wander over to the kitchen table. The tea won't be done for
another ten minutes, so I entertain myself by going through yesterday's half-opened mail, (Junk
mail, bill, junk mail, bill, letter for Petu-junk mail, junk mail) and a few magazines (so Petunia
can look like she actually knows how to read). I push away the last flyer and I'm surprised to
find yesterday's paper still sitting there.

I usually don't read the paper. I know, bad Lily, you should keep up with the news, but it
just seems stupid now that I'm no longer a part of this world. I am, but I'm not. As soon
as I graduate Hogwarts there is no question in my mind. I am going to live in the Wizarding
World.

There's nothing left but the paper, and there is no way I am reading about why I should get
Burn's Life Insurance, or how in just 5 steps I can be as beautiful as the person on the cover
of Petunia's magazine. I roll my eyes and flip open the paper.

**FAMOUS ACTRESS GABRIELLA MIRABELLA DIVORCES 11th HUSBAND**

That's the headline on the front page. Now I remember why I stopped reading the paper. Just
for the heck of it though, I flip over to the other side and skim a couple of the leading
stories.

**PRESIDENT CARTER PAYS VISIT TO LONDON**

Who cares?

**LARGEST SNAIL EVER RECORDED FOUND IN CAPE COD, MASSACHUSETTS**

Now that's funny.

**MIRABELLA's EX-HUSBAND'S COMMENT**

**MIRABELLA's 6.8 BILLION DOLLAR MANSION UP FOR SALE**

**MIRABELLA'S NEWEST MOVIE HITS THEATERS**

God, does the world really revolve around this woman?

**GABRIELLA MIRABELLA WITHDRAWS SUPPORT FROM CANDIDATE**

**EXPLOSION IN LONDON STILL UNDER INVESTIGATION**

Yadda, yadda, yadda, wait- explosion?

I leaf through the paper, attempting to find the article. It shows up on page seventy eight,
after about fifty pages of Mirabella news, and twenty seven of advertisements. There's a huge
black and white photo of a building that's been demolished. Nothing's left of it but a pile
of twigs.

**CAUSE OF MYSTERIOUS LONDON EXPLOSION UNKNOWN**

*On August 17th, an explosion tore through one of London's finest and oldest antique
shops, killing the owner and his wife, as well as two employees, and eleven unidentified customers.
The explosion happened without warning, on a brilliant warm summer day. The foundation was secure,
and the building has been standing on its own for as long as anyone can remember. But within
minutes nothing was there but a pile of wood, and a group of confused shoppers and Londoners.
Rescuers arrived at the scene immediately but were unable to save any of the victims. It's
unexplainable, and still puzzles and troubles skilled investigators. The explosion's mysterious
origins have not been discovered just yet, just as the identities of several of the victims remains
a mystery.*

The picture catches my attention and I notice the building beside it. I know where that book
store is! I haven't been in to London a lot, but I recognize the location of this mysterious
explosion. I peer closely at the picture, squinting. I can't remember why, but there's
something very significant about this location. I just know it.

“Er - Lily?”

“Hmm?” I keep staring at the photograph, searching my poor memory.

“I don't mean to interrupt or anything… but… your stoves on fire.”

“That's nice.” Carefully, I tear the article and the photograph out of the paper.

“Lily?”

“Yea?” I fold it and slip it into my pocket.

“Maybe you didn't hear me correctly I said your-”

“I know, I know my stove's on FIRE?!”

Alarms start going off in my head, as I look wildly around for the stove and the deadly flames.
My stove is in fact on fire, but that's what usually happens when you turn it on. The burner is
flaming, but it's not that big of a deal. The tea's done, that's for sure, but the tea
kettle is missing. I look around and find the tea kettle with James. I almost laugh at the sight of
him cradling it like a precious possession. James looks terrified, and is staring at the out of
control burner from a safe distance away with large fearful hazel eyes.

“Do something!” he shouts.

James is afraid of STOVES! MUGGLE STOVES! I can't help it, a giggle escapes my lips.
Hurriedly, I clap a hand over my mouth.

“Stop the fire. Put it out! Get rid of it! I don't care what you do, just do
*something*! Please!” he begs. I try hard not to laugh, but James is hanging onto the kettle
as if his life depends on it. He's practically on his hands and knees asking me to put an end
to it.

If only the circumstances were different. I would be able to get back at Potter for the five
years of hell he's put me through. Think of the power of blackmail. It's just too bad
we're in this situation.

“Damn it Lily, we're going to die!”

Honestly, these wizards. They think they're so great until they encounter something as
simple as a muggle stove. I get up and approach the flaming stove. With a roll of my eyes, I shut
the stove off. A mere turn of a knob, that's all it took. Suddenly, I'm Potter's
savior, again.

I turn around and face him. He's leaning against the wall with his arms wrapped around the
kettle as if it were a security blanket. His brow is shining with a little sweat and he appears to
be having difficulty breathing.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“NO!”

I'm having déjà vu. I feel like we've already gone through this routine, except it was
James who was asking me if I was okay and I was the one getting ready to snap his head off and blow
out his ear drums.

“Merlin Lily, that's the third time you tried to kill me today!” he explodes. “Are you
planning on taking out a knife or something and stabbing me? Or perhaps you're going to shoot
me with an unforgivable when my back's turned because by all means, do it now before I die of
fright. I'm getting sick of waiting to join them. Please, let's get this over with once and
for all.”

The humor's zapped out of the situation. I feel the balloon deflate inside of me. How could
I be so inconsiderate? This isn't the usual Potter that I'm dealing with. The kid just lost
his uncle and cousin. I'm so cruel. I really am heartless.

“I'm not trying to kill you James. Rest assured, we're both stuck in this hell
together,” I say, softly.

James stares at me, his eyes darting up and down and all over my figure.

“Look, I'm sorry. I was a little busy and well, most people don't freak out when they
see a stove on. But it's a muggle thing I guess. I'm really sorry James. I should've
known that you're not used to staying in the Muggle world,” I apologize, taking baby steps
toward him.

James stops backing away, and I inch toward him. I pause a foot away from him and hold my hand
out to him. James eyes it, unwilling to take either one of his hands off of the tea kettle.

“I'm not going to hurt you James. You'll have to ask someone else to put you out of your
misery.” I extend my hand.

James hesitantly removes his hand from the tea kettle and touches mine. My fingers close over
his and he smiles shakily as our eyes meet.

“It's not so bad,” he whispers.

“What?” I ask, quietly.

“Hell… but maybe that's because we're both in it together.” A shadow of a grin appears
on his face for an instant and I can almost see the light returning to his darkened eyes.

“You're right, it isn't so bad," I echo, with a chuckle.

We stare at each other, hand in hand. It seems like we've been doing this a lot lately. Odd
really, since usually it was just James staring at the back of my head, not the other way around,
and I, for the record, would never be caught dead staring at Potter.

“Lily?” he whispers.

“What?” I ask, wondering why we're whispering.

“I hate to spoil the moment, but my hands.”

“What about them?”

“They're beginning to hurt.”

I remove my hand from his, glance over the back of his hand, and then turn it over in mine. I
gasp at the sight of the red ugly flesh. He burnt himself.

“James you idiot!” I push him into the nearest chair. “Why didn't you tell me you burnt
yourself?!” I scold, taking my wand from my pocket.

“Sorry, all I could think about was saving you Ms. Evans,” James jokes.

I laugh loudly at this, perhaps a little too loudly. But I've missed his jokes. It's so
weird to see James serious and suddenly I realize how much better the joking, troublesome,
laughing, mischievous prankster suits him.

“You better watch it Potter, or I might fall back on my promise and decide to frighten you
again.” But I'm grinning.

“That's an empty threat Ms. Evans, I know for a fact that secretly you can't resist my
charm. You're just too stubborn to admit it.” He smirks.

Haughty, self-centered, arrogant and smirking, yep, that's Potter. He's back from the
dead and taking on both the alien and the zombie. I smile for some odd reason, almost liking the
fact that he's acting semi-normal again.

“Don't be so sure Potter.” I smirk. “I've got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

James raises an eyebrow as if challenging me.

“There's still the microwave, the fridge, the freezer, the television…”

James starts to pale.

“…the telephone, the automobile…”

Now he's starting to fidget a little bit.

“…I could go on and on Potter, after all you're in the non-magical world. Here you're
the stranger, not me. You seem to be forgetting that.”

That'll take care of him for a little while. I start to heal his hands with the aid of my
wand and just as I hoped, James stays put, and doesn't attempt to grope me in anyway or ask me
into a closet or a bedroom. Things get done faster when there isn't someone trying to seduce
you. Even if Potter fails miserably at this, he's still an annoyance.

“Ow, Lily! That hurts,” he whimpers.

“You're such a baby.” I roll my eyes.

“I am not!”

“You are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“AM NOT!”

“ARE TOO!”

“AM NO-OUCH!”

He yanks his hands away from mine. Slowly he turns his hands over, examining the newly healed
flesh. Distraction always works. Wordlessly, he looks up at me, flexing his now painless, normal
hands.

“All done.”

I reach up and ruffle his hair, as if he were a toddler since he's been acting like one.
Halfheartedly, he tries to shove me away, but I manage to mess up his hair. He runs his hands
through his hair trying to smooth it back down. I laugh because it's impossible. James Potter
has messy, wild, unruly black hair that's always sticking up in every direction. It simply
refuses to lie flat.

“What are you laughing at?" he snaps.

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head.

“You're laughing at me!” he accuses.

“Of course not,” I lie.

Instead of arguing with me, he sits back in his chair and sighs. He runs a hand through his hair
again, looking over my shoulder at the rest of the kitchen.

“How about a cup of tea?” I ask, getting to my feet. I go to the cabinet and remove two tea cups
and then sit back down again.

“Sure, sounds great,” James grabs one of the tea cups and I pour the tea inside.

I fill my cup as well, and discreetly watch James over the top of my cup. He takes a sip, looks
thoughtful for a moment, and then suddenly stands up.

“Where do you think you're going?” I demand.

“I'm going to check on Gracie,” James replies.

“Oh, okay.”

I sip my tea and twiddle my thumbs, waiting for James to return. Five minutes later he comes
back and sits back down in front of me.

“How is she?” I inquire.

“Still sleeping,”

We lapse into silence, drinking and finishing our tea. It's not an awkward silence. It's
more of a comfortable contented silence. And to tell you the truth, this new and improved James is
starting to grow on me and irritate me at the same time. Half of me still wants him to return to
normal while the other half is enjoying the company of this kind, thoughtful, non-groping, not
always thinking of self, James.

“We can't stay here,” James says finally, shattering the fragile silence.

“Why not?” I ask. I tip my cup, staring into the thin layer of liquid that still rests at the
bottom. I try to shift the cup a little so that it'll catch the light and maybe I'll be
able to see my reflection in the watery brown tea.

“It's probably safer here,” I add.

“No, it's not.”

I look up at him, surprised.

“Lily,” he hesitates. “Your parents might be in danger if we stay here.”

“No!”

James nods, solemnly.

“What do you mean?” I stammer.

“Lily,” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair again. “There's a lot we need to explain
to you when we get back, but now is not the time.”

“But-”

“Just hear me out Lily, please,” he says, grabbing my hand and looking me in the eye.
“Gracie's family was just murdered and Gracie's here. I don't know why Gracie's
family was murdered or why any of the others had to die, but not many of them survive once this
monster decides to kill them. Trust me on this one Lily; if we're here, your parents are in
danger.”

I close my eyes trying to get my heart beat back to normal. But all I can see is a large
foreboding tombstone with the names of Matthew and Alexandra Evans engraved in the granite.

“Do you understand?” James asks.

It's difficult to comprehend but I grasp some form of the concept. I swallow hard and
nod.

“I get it.” I open my eyes and look at him. “How soon can we get out of here?”

“Um, well, erm. I'm not sure,” James says, guiltily.

“James, you just told me that my parent's lives are in danger! We need to get out of here!”
I yell.

“I know that Lily and believe me I would've been long gone if the circumstances were
different.”

“Well let's go!” I throw back my chair and start toward the living room where Gracie is.

“But Lily you're forgetting something.” James suddenly appears in front of me, blocking my
path and refusing to budge.

“What?” I ask, unsuccessfully trying to get by him.

“The ministry went into lock down.”

“I don't care if the ministry drops off the face of the earth, we just need to get out of
here.” I push him with all my might but he won't move.

“I don't think you understand,” he says, grabbing me by the shoulders.

“Well, then you better explain.” I fold my arms across my chest and glare up at him.

“The Floo network's shut down.”

Oh. That puts a damper on everything. My escape plan flies right out the window. I can just kiss
my parents goodbye, and probably James and Gracie as well.

Gracie's haunting words come back to me.

“*We're stuck here.”*

And then she started crying. Right now, I feel like crying again.

James and I go back to the drawing table, sitting back down in our chairs. There's not much
we can do. I know for a fact that wizards and witches always take floo powder to get to and from
the muggle world on those rare occasions that they have too. Gracie told me this several times.
Take that away and I don't know what to do, and apparently neither does James.

Think Lily, think, your parent's lives depend on this, think.

“Hey let's just take a train in or we can have my Dad drive us!”

James grins.

“Yeah that's a great idea, I'll just take the train-”

His face falls. I don't think many trains run to their house.

“Okay screw the train how about driving, I know you guys have town cars, Gracie told me.”

James's face lights up again and he looks at me excitedly.

“You're right! We can get your Dad to drive us and then-”

Again his face falls.

“What's wrong with that idea?” I demand.

“I don't know where I live,” James mumbles.

“WHAT?!”

“I don't live in the muggle world,” he says, throwing up his hands defensively.

“But James-”

“You wouldn't be able to find your house on the floo network even if your life depended on
it.”

He's right of course. We've reached another dead end.

“Wait, wait just a minute!” James sits upright in his chair, his eyes lighting up again. “The
Knight Bus we can take the Knight Bus!”

“The what-?” I haven't the faintest idea what he's talking about. It doesn't matter
though because an instant later he slumps back down in his chair.

I raise an eyebrow.

“It doesn't run during lock down,” he replies, glumly.

Damn.

“It's hopeless,” I say with a sigh.

“I just wish I had taken my *Silver Arrow* with me,” James laments.

“Well, you didn't.” Thank Merlin for that. I'm not very keen on broomsticks. It's
just another one of the many reasons why I dislike Potter so much.

“That's it!” James exclaims, suddenly.

Oh god, please don't tell me this is what I think it is.

“You have a broom, don't you?”

I knew he was going to ask that.

“Yes, but James it's not the same thing,” I protest, weakly.

“Nonsense,” James says with a wave of his hand. “Show me the broom and we can talk after
that.”

“Fine, but you'll be disappointed,” I warn.

I sigh and reluctantly walk over to the kitchen closet. James follows me. He has so much energy
that he's practically bouncing. Honestly, he's like a little kid waiting to open Christmas
presents. I open up the small closet and we peer inside. It never ceases to amaze me how Mom was
able to fill that closet with nothing but cleaning supplies. I can tell you one thing, when I grow
up I am using magic to clean my house.

I push aside the vacuum and retrieve the good old plastic broom.

“Here it is, the impressive *Sweeper 200*,” I quip, handing it to him.

James turns it over in his hands, frowning.

“What's wrong? Is it not up to the *Silver Arrow* standards?” I smirk.

Finally he looks up at me, with a look of disgust.

“What the hell is this?” he asks, gesturing to the plastic.

“That, is a broom,” I answer, smugly.

“No, this is not a broom. This is some ugly yellow cane that's sprouting hair at one
end.”

“We muggles like to call it a plastic broom,” I defend.

“You're not a muggle,” James corrects me, handing the broom back.

“I live with them though,” I whisper, wondering if I ever will again.

I replace the broom and start to shut the closet but James stops me.

“What's that?” he inquires, pointing to the vacuum.

“A vacuum.”

“What does it do?” James asks, curiously.

“James, it's called a vacuum for a reason, it sucks things up like a black hole.”

“Oh,” He glances fearfully at the vacuum and backs away from the closet. I grin and close the
door behind me. Too bad we didn't have time to plug it in and turn it on. It would've been
fun to chase James around the house with my man-eating vacuum.

“Now what?” he wonders aloud.

“I don't know. I'm all out of ideas.” I shrug.

“Great,” he says, sarcastically.

The two of us walk back to the table. We're running out of time. It's almost nine
o'clock. My parents might be dead right now for all I know.

“James?” I ask.

“What?” He turns to me.

“How long does this lock down thing usually last?” I inquire.

“Er, I don't really know,” he admits, honestly.

“Oh,” I stare down at my hands.

“The last time this happened I was nine,” he recalls.

“What happened then?” I look up at him.

“Not much. My mom locked me in a room with Gracie and Chris-” He stops suddenly at the mention
of his dead cousin. His eyes fall to the table and his voice softens. “That's all I
remember.”

I reach across the table and cover his hand with mine. *Actions*, my father once told me,
*speak louder than words*. At the thought of my father, the death threat echoes in my mind.
Again I see the tombstone and I realize that if we don't hurry up my parents will be joining
Chris and his dad in the ground. I clear my throat.

“I don't mean to be rude James, but my parents-”

“I'm aware of that Lily, I'm thinking hard, or I'm at least trying to think of a way
to get the three of us out of here before they get home.”

“Home,” I echo. Wait, just a minute! I think I have an idea.

“James, what if I told them not to come home. Then we could wait until this whole mess blows
over and go back by flow powder and they'd never find my parents,” I suggest, attempting to
hide the enthusiasm in my voice.

But the look on James's face is enough to crush any happy thought that I once had.

“It won't work, Lily.”

“Why not?”

James leans forward, lowering his voice as if someone might already be listening in on our
conversation.

“I don't think you know who we're dealing with. Whoever this person is broke into a
highly protected vault in the Ministry and took something we'll probably never be able to get
back. If they want to kill your parents they won't have any trouble tracking them down.”

My eyes widen, and my jaw drops.

“They what?” I gasp.

Is this what Gracie and James were planning on telling me before Gracie received the news of her
parent's death?

“Never mind, it's too dangerous to talk about it here, and your parents-”

“You're right we don't have time for this,” I interrupt.

I can almost hear the clock ticking in my mind. You know those movies where the handsome hero
has to locate the bad guy's bomb and then cut the right wires before the whole world blows into
smithereens, not to mention killing the main character and his lover, kids, dog, parents, best
friend, brother, sister, crazy next door neighbor, annoying partner, you get the idea, and all this
time those glowing red numbers are counting down to zero at lightening speed. Well, that's what
it feels like. There's this huge glowing clock in my mind, except I don't know how much
time is left, or even if the time has already-

“AAAAHHHHHHH!”

-run out.

“Was that you?” I ask James, stupidly.

“No! That was a girl screaming-” The color drains from his face, as realization sets in.

“Gracie?” I squeak, fearfully.

“CRUD!” The two of us get up and run to the living room.

Oh, god. Oh, Merlin. Please, this can't be happening. Please, I can't lose my best
friend. Please. Tell me we're not too late.

I can hear the sound of a scuffle. Someone slams into a wall or a large piece of furniture. A
scream of frustration echoes through the hall and I hear the sounds of someone running.

“I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!” a voice screams.

Someone's trying to kill her! My heart's slamming in my chest so hard that I can barely
breathe. I won't let this happen, I won't! The house never seemed so big until now. It
seems to take me ages to get out of the kitchen and cross the hall to the living room. James
reaches the room before me, disappearing inside. I follow him, slamming into his tall form.

James doesn't notice though. He's frozen in place, rooted to the floor. Don't tell
me we're too late! I peek around his broad shoulders bracing myself for a severely injured
Grace, or worse, a lifeless body.

But I don't see anything.

I move to his side, my eyes frantically searching the room. There's no one here. The
room's empty.

“Gracie?” I call.

No one answers. Not that I was expecting anyone to.

“Where'd they go?” James asks, as if I should know.

I shrug. He got here first so he should know.

“Gracie!” he yells.

“GRACIE!” I holler with all my lung power.

“I AM GOING TO FREAKING KILL YOU!” a distant voice shouts.

James swings around and looks at me, his eyes wide with fear.

“It's coming from the back yard,” I breathe. “Come on!” I race to the back door, with James
right on my heels.

We run outside, and James quickly takes the lead again. He's a fast runner. (It's the
Quidditch thing I bet. As soon as we get back to Hogwarts - that is if I live through this - I am
going to seriously consider Quidditch.) We run around the house once, twice, and then panting we
slow to a jog, me just barely matching his speed. It's dark out, and James and I don't have
the faintest clue where Gracie and her tormentor might be.

“I… think… we… lost… them,” I pant, as I try to catch my breath.

“Me too,” James says, wisely saving his breath.

We jog around the house a third time, but my strength wanes, and I see nothing in the
darkness.

“I…can't…see…anyth-OW!”

I trip, and fall to the ground, clutching my ankle. How dumb, how incredibly stupid can I get? I
tripped over my own mailbox!

“You okay?” James asks, softly. I feel his arms around me, helping me up. I bite down hard on my
lip, as I accidentally put weight on the injured ankle. I am not going to cry over something as
silly as a sprained ankle.

“Is it your foot?”

“My ankle,” I correct him, pointing out which one it is.

“Can you walk?” he asks, throwing my arm around his neck.

I try to walk, or rather limp, but it's not working out. James is on the wrong side and he
doesn't seem to understand that if he just moved to my other side I could limp just perfectly
fine with his support. But nothing gets through that thick skull of his.

“This isn't working,” James sighs.

“No it's not, but if you would just - what are you doing?” I demand as James suddenly sweeps
me off my feet.

“I'm carrying you,” he answers, simply.

“James, put me down! JAMES!” I squeal and throw my arms around his neck hanging on for dear life
as he grabs both of my legs and starts carrying me.

“Will you quit squirming Lily? You're not making this any easier,” he hisses in my ear.

“I don't like being carried!” I try to wriggle free from his grasp, but James hangs on
tight. I hate him, I really do. He's making me so uncomfortable right now and even if we are in
this situation it doesn't make it right for him to be allowed to touch me. Then I remember that
he's only doing this so that we can locate and rescue Gracie and instantly I stop struggling
and remain still.

“You should have left me,” I mumble.

“Left you there?! And find you missing like Gracie, or dead? I couldn't do that Lily,” he
whispers, carefully lowering me onto the front steps. He sits down beside me. The light from the
streetlight bounces off his glasses, making it difficult for me to read the expression in his
eyes.

“But Gracie-” I protest.

“We're going to find her. But I think right now she might be taking care of herself.”

I laugh and then look up at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

James chuckles, and takes out his wand pointing it at my ankle. I try to move but he's
quicker. He grabs my ankle, his hand cool on my skin. A shiver runs up my spine, and suddenly
I'm not resisting anymore, even though I know I could probably do a much better job than him. I
can't move, I can barely breathe.

“You didn't hear her?” James asks me, a hint of amusement mixed with the customary sadness.
I can't reply; I'm tongue tied.

“I thought the whole bloody world could hear her the way she was hollering, whoever showed up is
in big trouble. Gracie's on a war path, and this time she's out for blood.”

“YOU'RE DEAD!” This time the voice is a lot closer.

James head snaps up and his arm shoots out pulling me to his side. I scoot closer to him, my
heart thudding once more. Two shadowy shapes come into view, and this time I'm sure that the
one behind, the one that's chasing the first, is Gracie. The one in front - that's
currently running for his life, trying to get as far away from this mad woman as he can - actually
looks familiar. In fact, James seems to recognize him too because all of a sudden he throws back
his head and laughs.

“BBBBLLLLAAACCCCKKKK! I'M GONNA KILL YOU FOR THIS BLACK!” Gracie roars, tearing after the
boy.

Relief washes over me as a terrified Sirius Black sprints past us, with a furious Grace Adams in
hot pursuit.

I close my eyes and we're back at Hogwarts. We're fifteen again with nothing to worry
about other than exams, and the Marauder's latest prank. Happy and carefree, my best friend
threatening to kill or dismember one of the members of the Marauders, running by the lake, shooting
harmless spells at one another. The memories flash by me all at once. Then I see the articles, the
black owl and it's letter, Gracie crying, James clutching the tea kettle and yelling, and
finally me, crying in James Potter's arms on the kitchen floor. The two worlds collide, and
here we are on the front step. Potter and I.

My shoulders slump with the impact of all the memories, and I lean back against James, breathing
hard. I can feel him shaking, vibrating with the chords of empty laughter. I open my eyes and watch
as Gracie and Sirius run past us again, heading in the opposite direction.

“We shouldn't be laughing,” I say, at last.

“Why not?” he asks. His laughter is empty, but he wears an amused expression, as if he does find
something funny about the situation after all.

“Because-” But I can't bring myself to finish the sentence. I'm so confused. I don't
know whether I should be crying or laughing. I look up at James and he smiles, as if he knows what
I'm thinking and he has the answers.

“Lily, Gracie's alive and okay. And Sirius is here. Do you know what that means?”

I shake my head, trying to figure out where he's going with this.

“The floo network's back up, Lily. We're going home!”

“Home,” I echo. I think of my parents, the tombstone fading, replaced with an image of a future
Christmas together.

Home. I glance back at the house, and realize for the first time that it seems empty, and cold,
and doesn't strike any enthusiasm or light any emotions. The only thing I connect vaguely with
the house is my parents, and never in all my life have I wanted to get further away from them.

My mind turns to the Wizarding World where Gracie, James, Sirius, and all my friends, fellow
students, professors, and tormentors are waiting. Hogwarts. My heart leaps at the mere thought of
returning.

Home.

I'm going home, to my real home.

“It's not funny,” I scold James.

“Why not?” he asks again, studying me with his hazel eyes.

“Sirius could get seriously hurt.”

James smirks and gives my shoulders a squeeze. I can hear Gracie's voice echoing through the
yard, but this time Sirius is answering her. Neither one of us can tell what it is they're
arguing about.

“Have some faith in him Lily!” James urges.

Something bubbles up inside of me. When I open my mouth, laughter is the glorious sound that
rushes to the surface. James joins in and his laughter echoes through the night.

I do have faith, just not necessarily in Sirius. But I know Gracie. She's merciful most of
the time. So, there's a pretty good chance that Sirius will come out of this alive.

Sure enough, I see Gracie dragging Sirius back by his ear. He's whining, and begging for
mercy, but he's alive. I think there's hope after all for Sirius. Gracie, there's no
question in my mind. If someone wants to kill her, they're going to have to answer to Gracie
the devil woman first. So, there's hope for her. And as for James and I, I think there's
hope for us too.

No, wait! I know what you're thinking, but it's nothing like that! I just meant that
there was hope for us individually and not as a couple. NO! There is no future for *US*. There
is a future for James, and there is a future for me, but there is no together. No, you don't
understand! I really didn't mean it that way!

Well, there's hope. You get the idea, the wrong idea, but all the same. And after this whole
thing is over and done with and I can go back to living out my life as a normal (well not exactly
normal since I'm a witch) teenager, and I go back to hating James, (because I still hate him I
just HAVE to be nice to him since his uncle and cousin just died), I'm seriously going to seek
counseling.

Wait, do they even have counseling in the Wizarding World?

**A/N**: *Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last three chapters. I'd love to
hear what you think so, please review! The next chapter should be up very soon!!*

-->



5. It's Probably Nothing
------------------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *JK Rowling owns the world. Yadda yadda, you know the deal. All the crazy
characters are probably mine.*

**A/N:** *Thanks to everyone that reviewed!!!! I appreciate it, I hope you like this one
too!*

**Chapter 4: It's Probably Nothing**

I sigh, leaning my chin on my hand. Gracie and Sirius are sitting on either side of me. Sirius
looks terrified and a little confused, and Grace looks like she's ready to explode. I can see
that she's itching to tear Sirius to pieces. If it wasn't for the separation spell, that
James and I cast on them, they'd probably still be running around the yard. Or Gracie might be
blasting him to smithereens, beating him up, or torturing him slowly. I guess it depends on what
kind of mood she's in. Remember what I said about Gracie being merciful? Well, just scratch
that from the record. Grace Adams is not entirely herself today. You can't blame her though,
after all her parents and her little brother just died.

I just wish she wouldn't take it out on poor Sirius. Yes, I'll admit that I'm
actually feeling bad for the bloke that's so much like Potter that it's scary. You would be
too if you saw the blazing anger in Gracie's eyes. She's eyeing Sirius as if he's some
sort of prey. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she can't get her hands on the
murderer so instead she's substituting Sirius.

Suddenly, Gracie makes a dive for Sirius. She cries out as her fist collides with the invisible
wall. The wall's still vibrating from the impact of the force, five minutes later. Sirius
trembles, looking pleadingly up at me.

“Uh, Lily? I don't mean to be a pain, but could you and James speed it up a bit?” he
stammers, as Gracie studies the wall, no doubt looking for a way around it.

“I know Sirius we're trying,” I assure him, nodding. Believe me, I understand. I've
forgotten how mad Gracie can get sometimes. The last time she got like this we were Third Years.
She went into a rage because a Slytherin nearly killed one of her team mates in one of the most
dangerous, dirtiest Quidditch matches I've ever seen. I don't remember what happened to
that Slytherin, that's what scares me.

“LILY!” Sirius yells.

Gracie has her wand out and is pointing it at the wall, but her wand flies into my hands before
you can say Quidditch. That was a close one. I tuck the wand into my pocket and reach for the front
door.

“I'm going to go tell James to hurry up. I'll be back in two seconds,” I tell
Sirius.

Sirius nods, never taking his eyes off maniac Gracie who's eyeing the wall again like a
tiger ready to break free from a cage. Note to self: be extra nice to Sirius Black if he lives
through this.

“James!” I walk inside and the screen door slams shut behind me.

“Are you ready yet?” I call. My voice echoes through the house.

“Almost!” James replies.

Almost isn't good enough. Gracie's ready to kill Sirius, and I'm not sure how much
longer I'll be able to hold her off. It shouldn't take him this long to light a fire for us
to floo out with. I've watched Gracie do it once, and it only took her less than a millisecond.
Then again this is Potter we're talking about. The same person that thought it would be
brilliant to become an Animagi. I'm glad he got rid of that idea.

I tip toe down the dark hallway, finally coming to a stop outside of the living room. The living
room's pitch black except for a small sliver of moonlight, sliding in through the half open
window. I hear something move and the back of James's head appears, as he moves closer to the
fireplace and steps into the light.

Silently, I watch him, as he fiddles with his wand, muttering under his breath. The wand comes
into view, as he points it at my fireplace. And now I know why it's taking James so long.

“James, you can't - STOP!”

**BANG!**

I couldn't reach him in time. The fireplace blows up again, the flames blazing for an
instant and then disappearing as quickly as they appeared.

“Cool,” James says.

James raises his wand, but I grab his arm before he can even think of doing that again.

“Are you trying to burn my parent's house down?” I hiss.

He actually has to think this over for a moment.

“Um, no?”

“Then cut it out Potter!” I let go of his arm, and flick the light on.

“Whoa!” James's jaw drops. “How did you do that?”

“Magic,” I say, sarcastically.

“I've got to try that!” James pushes me out of the way in his haste to get to the light
switch. He turns it on and gasps. Then he turns it off and gasps again. And then it goes on again.
And off. And then on again. And then off. Faster and faster, the light's start to flicker, and
all this time James looks as if classes have been canceled and instead have been replaced with a
Quidditch match.

I hate to spoil the fun, but if we want to save Sirius, then we better hurry it up.

“Ahem,” I clear my throat but James is having too much fun. It's sad how a wizard can be
amused by something as simple as turning a light on an off in a muggle household. I cough
loudly.

“AHEM!”

James stops.

“The fireplace,” I remind him, pointing my wand at the fireplace.

“One floo fire coming right up!” James bounces over to the fireplace but I hold him back.

“You're not going to get anything done, if you're doing it that way.”

James frowns and looks up at me, puzzled.

“Why not?” he asks.

“This is a muggle fireplace, it doesn't work the same way as a magical fireplace,” I
explain, slowly.

James accepts my answer and thankfully doesn't ask questions. I have the fire going before
you can say “Quidditch”. Gracie would've been proud.

“Go get Gracie and Sirius. I'll watch the fire,” James says, eyeing the light switch when he
thinks I'm not looking. I roll my eyes, hoping that he's not going to start an electrical
fire. Just for future reference I am never leaving James alone with fire or a muggle device ever
again.

I walk back to the front door. As I step outside I notice that there's something missing. I
glance down at the front steps. Gracie and Sirius! They're gone…AGAIN.

“Not again!” I groan, slapping my forehead. How did I get stuck with the babysitting job? Why
couldn't Potter do this?

Distant shouts travel to my ears. I turn my head, searching for them in the darkness. I see
something move in my next door neighbor's yard, and I start running in the direction of their
house. I arrive just in time to watch Gracie tackle Sirius to the ground. Stunned, I watch as she
steals Sirius's wand from his hand and then sits up on his chest.

“That's it Black!” She points his own wand at him, ready to curse him into oblivion.

“*Expelliarmus*!” I shout.

Sirius's wand soars out of her hand, and I catch it in my own. Grace looks up at me,
slightly surprised. The element of surprise works to my advantage and I pull her off of Sirius and
to her feet. Sirius wastes no time getting up and running away in the opposite direction.

“Wait, Sirius! You have to come back!” I call, using his wand to point back at the house where
James is waiting for us. Sirius reluctantly comes walking back, extra careful to give Grace a wide
berth. I throw his wand to him, but unfortunately I do not play Quidditch and I am not gifted
athletically. The wand falls short, and both Gracie and Sirius make a dive for it.

There's a brief scuffle, and I have to intervene with a little magic. In the end Sirius
winds up with the wand and a black eye while Gracie winds up with James who appears out of
nowhere.

“Where'd you come from?” I ask, surprised to see him.

“Where were you five minutes ago when your evil, conniving cousin decided to -”

Gracie flies out of James's arms and brings back her arm to punch Sirius before he can
finish the sentence. Luckily James stops her by twisting the offending arm behind her back. Her
free arm shoots out, and her hand grabs Sirius's ear in a death grip.

“What did I do to deserve this? You cruel - OOOOWWWW! I mean no - I only meant OOOOWWWWWWWW!”
Sirius moans in pain, trying to push her away. Gracie refuses to let go, even after James and I try
to intervene.

“Say it one more time Black and I'll rip this ear right off!” she snarls, her eyes flashing
with raging anger. I've never seen her like this. Never. Not even when that Slytherin almost
killed one of the Gryffindor chasers. I have to put a stop to this before she does something
she'll regret.

“Gracie, let go of his ear,” I say softly, trying and failing to remain calm. Gracie ignores me
and Sirius yelps as her nails dig into the flesh and a small trickle of blood appears.

“Please,” I beg, touching her arm gently and continuing in a soothing voice. “Please Gracie,
just let go. Sirius isn't responsible for their deaths.” I bite down on my lip, praying that
she'll listen.

Gracie trembles and then slowly, she lets her hand fall.

For a moment she just stands there, unsure of what to do. Then she turns and runs to James. He
receives her with open arms, pulling her to his chest, and letting her weep on his shoulder. I
watch as he leans down and whispers some comforting words in her ear. Gracie shudders with a loud
sob and buries her face into the front of his shirt.

I turn my back to them, giving them some privacy. Sirius's confused dark eyes meet mine, and
then travel back to Gracie and James. He doesn't know, I realize.

“Come on,” I say softly, grabbing his arm and gently pulling him toward the house.

Sirius keeps glancing over his shoulder as we walk back to the house. When at last we're out
of hearing distance and seated on the front steps he tears his eyes away from them and looks at
me.

“What the hell's wrong with her?” he asks, his eyes narrowing as if I'm in some way
responsible for this.

“Don't look at me like that Black, I'd like to know what it was that you said or did to
her that caused her to snap,” I snap, glaring back at him.

Sirius and I glare at each other and then realize how ridiculous we're being and look
away.

“I didn't do anything,” Sirius explains. “All I did was floo to your house after I found out
that was where James was. And then I saw Grace sleeping. So, I kind of - well, I sort of-”

I bury my face into my hands.

“Please tell me you didn't,” I groan.

“Didn't what?” Sirius asks, innocently.

“Sneak up on her and wake her.”

Sirius doesn't answer. When I look up at him, he's grinning guiltily.

“I might have,” he admits as if suddenly recalling the memory.

“Sirius!” I hit him. That was probably one of the worst possible things he could have done. No
wonder why Grace was acting like he was the murderer.

“How could you!”

I hit him a second time, effectively wiping the grin right off his face. He frowns and dodges
out of the way before I can make it three.

“How was I supposed to know that she was on the verge of a nervous break down and had suddenly
decided to kill everything that moves!” he snaps back at me.

“HER PARENTS DIED!” I shout.

Sirius's eyes widen. For a moment he seems to be in a state of shock and prepared to deny
it. But then he turns around and looks at Grace and James clinging to each other in my next door
neighbor's yard and his face crumbles. He stands up to go to Grace, but I pull him back down
beside me.

“I think you've already done enough damage, don't you think?” I regret the harsh words
almost instantly. It wasn't Sirius's fault. He didn't know. Now, he looks genuinely
sorry sitting on the step beside me with his head in his hands.

Slowly, he lifts his head from his hands and looks in the direction of Grace and James.

“Why didn't anyone tell me?” he asks, softly.

“It happened this morning just after Gracie and James arrived at my house. I didn't find out
until the second letter came,” I explain.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know,” he apologizes with a shake of his head.

“Tell Gracie that,” I reply, realizing that we're both in the same boat.

He's guilt ridden now. I can tell just by the way he continues to stare at Gracie and James
that he's really feeling bad about what he did. Abruptly, he turns to me.

“Where's Chris?” he asks, referring to Gracie's little brother.

I open my mouth to tell him, but my tongue gets stuck. We had all known Chris. He'd been a
first year last year. He was like a little brother to me. But Chris was always close to the
Marauders. They had been training him to be a Marauder. I remember how much fun James, Remus, and
particularly Sirius had teaching him everything they knew and allowing him to occasionally
accompany them on their midnight strolls around the castle and their latest prank. I almost smile,
recalling how furious Gracie had been when she learned of the Marauder's intentions for her
brother. She tried to talk him out of it but Chris was so excited. When she realized that she
couldn't persuade him to change his mind she blew up at the Marauders for corrupting her
innocent little brother.

But now he'll never get to be a Marauder.

“Lily, where's Chris?” Sirius asks again, desperately.

I look at him sadly, trying to communicate the message silently with my eyes. Sirius though is
one of those people that need to hear a confirmation. I struggle and do my best to keep my
composure. Bravely, I manage to form the words and spit them out.

“He died too,” I whisper.

Sirius swears loudly, ducking his head and covering it with his hands. I can hear him softly
cursing under his breath, as he uselessly yanks at his black hair. I slump against the steps,
dealing with my own pain and unsure of how to comfort Sirius.

Suddenly, he freezes.

“How'd it happen?” he asks in a muffled voice, from somewhere behind his black hair and
hands.

“House attack… Murder.” I'm having trouble stringing words together to form sentences, my
head's still reeling hours after it happened.

“They were murdered?” His head pops up into view again and suddenly I'm looking into his sad
dark eyes, shining with unshed tears.

I nod, afraid that I'll start crying again if I try to speak.

Sirius turns his head, a weird expression crossing his face. I study his profile and realize
with a shock that Sirius Black is actually thinking. Odd, I've never seen Sirius think before.
It scares me.

The reflective Sirius moment is short lived. Shortly afterward, his eyes dull and his head
drops.

“I should've known.” Sirius's head disappears again, his fingers once again ripping and
tearing at his hair feverishly. I'm afraid he's going to pull it out. I watch him warily,
wishing I could help him, but knowing that there's nothing I can do.

“I'm so stupid, so incredibly stupid,”

Never thought I'd hear Sirius Black admit the truth, but lo and behold there's a first
time for everything. It's a shame, a real shame that Gracie's family had to die, I would
have had so much blackmail the next time they try to prank us.

That is if things ever return to the way they used to be.

I turn and look for Grace and James and find them walking back to the house side by side. James
has his arm flung around Gracie's shoulders, and Gracie's leaning into him, looking worn
out. The tiger's escaped but it left an empty shell behind.

I nudge Sirius and we both look up.

No smiles, no greetings, not a word or a flicker of emotion passes between us. Sirius stares at
Gracie, and Gracie refuses to look at anything except her sneakers. Sometime during this silent
encounter James meets my eyes. His face doesn't move a muscle but I know exactly what's on
his mind.

“Let's go,” I say softly, touching Sirius's arm.

We get to our feet, and I open the door for them. Sirius goes in first, constantly glancing over
his shoulder at Gracie. His face is impassive and pale, his mouth drawn into a tightlipped line,
but his eyes betray him as they continue to wander back to Gracie. James and Gracie follow Sirius.
James is supporting her, holding up her fragile body. Gracie looks like she's just been run
over a train, twice and then fallen off her broomstick from 200 feet up. But of course there's
never any blood or bruises. All of the pain is in her face and the look in her eyes. It's in
the slow, sluggish, weary movements, the fatigue, and the way she's leaning on James for
support. They're all symptoms of an internal injury, hidden from the naked eye, but that
everyone is still aware of. In Gracie's case it's a bleeding heart, a fatal wound that will
never completely heal.

James is the last of the three. He's the only thing that's holding Gracie up. Without
him, I know she would collapse. But James hangs on, tenderly helping her through the door and into
the living room, moving slowly and taking great care with each step. Our eyes meet once more and
again I'm aware of our silent connection.

He turns and takes Gracie to the fireplace. I close the screen door behind me and then join
them. After a brief search I locate the pouch of floo powder that James removed from his pocket
earlier this morning when we originally thought we were going to Gracie's house. That's no
longer an option.

I hand the pouch off to first Sirius and then to James, who takes enough for both him and
Gracie. Sirius steps into the flickering emerald green flames first, and says something that I
don't quite catch. He's gone before I can blink twice. James helps Gracie over, and starts
to step into the fire.

“Wait!” I yell.

But James and Gracie disappear in a flash and a billow of smoke.

And suddenly I'm alone in my living room with my things for school, a blazing green fire, a
nearly empty pouch of floo powder, and one horrible realization.

They left me.

I want to cry, this day just keeps getting better and better and it all began with me dreaming
that I was dying. I wish I had kept my eyes closed and rolled over to watch my tragic end. I want
to turn back time, wipe the slate clean, and get to Gracie's house to warn her parents before
anything can happen to them. But even in the magical world it's impossible.

I drop onto the couch, clutching the pillow to my chest. You see I'm muggleborn, meaning I
lived in a world where people do not travel by fireplace, or pop out of thin air for the first
eleven years of my life. I've never traveled by floo powder in all my life, but I know from
watching people, how it's done. But how do you get to their house? What stops you from landing
in someone else's fireplace? Do I just go in there and shout James Potter's House? I recall
vaguely a memory of Gracie flooing to her house, calling out a word or a name, “Glenwood”. What
word brings me to Potter's house? If I just say Glenwood would that do the trick? I'm so
confused! What do I do now?

*Pop.*

I whip around at the sound of a noise behind me, but there's nothing there. I get up and go
to the window, thinking that maybe one of my parents might be back. But when I pull back the
curtain, the driveway's empty.

It must have been my imagination. I lay back down on the couch, curling up, and resting my head
on the pillow. Why would they leave me? They must know I don't know how to get to their house,
they must. Maybe they want some time with the family to grieve. Sirius is like family to them.
Apparently, I'm not. I'm hurt by this, but Gracie's not exactly in a position to vouch
for me, so perhaps it's better this way. I'll just meet them at Hogwarts on the 4th. Yeah,
that's what I'll do. Wait! What about the funeral? Do wizards even have funerals?

*Creak.*

There it is again! The noise! I stop and hold my breath. I hear a second creak, and I wait for
another. My heart's beating so loudly in my ears that I doubt I would be able to hear anything.
So one minute, then two, then three, passes and I hear only my breathing. It's nothing to worry
about because it was probably just the fridge, or um, I really don't have a clue. Maybe
Shakespeare crashed into the window again! James might be trying to contact me! I almost jump up,
to go check, but something makes me stay where I am.

*Creak.*

Did I just hear another creak? No, must be just me, hearing things. Funny, but I thought it
sounded like someone was walking around upstairs making the floor boards creak. Obviously it was
just my imagination. I swear I am getting so paranoid and jumpy after everything's that
happened today. It's all Potter's fault. He left me here without saying a word, stranded me
really. What a jerk.

*Creak. Creak. Creak.*

What is that? It's really starting to annoy me. Maybe I should go and investigate.
Shakespeare might be lying unconscious in my room, seriously injured and desperately trying to get
my attention. It's probably nothing.

That's when I hear it, the low murmur as if someone is speaking. Then there's a higher
murmur as if it's a second voice answering the first. There's the creaking again, heading
for the direction of the steps. It's probably nothing. I slowly get to my feet. But it's
probably nothing. I tiptoe toward the doorway. It's probably nothing. My mind flashes back to
what James said earlier.

“*Lily your parents might be in danger if we stay here.”*

My hand goes to my pocket, and I take out my wand.

It's nothing. I'm just being paranoid, hearing sounds that only exist in my head. I
creep out of the living room and into the hall. The hall's bathed in the faint light coming
from the fireplace in the next room over. I use the eerie emerald light to guide me silently down
the hall. Suddenly it goes out, and I'm stranded blindly in the darkness. Great, now I
can't see anything.

I pause, and swallow hard, trying to rid myself of the fear that's taken possession of me.
Just calm down. It's just your imagination so, just calm down.

*Thump. Thump. Thump.*

My heart jumps into my mouth and I start to sweat. Someone's coming down the steps. No, two
people are coming down my staircase. Oh, my god. I think about turning around and running in the
opposite direction, flying back to the fireplace and flooing to “Glenwood”, “Diagon Alley”,
anywhere but here. But then I think of my parents and what a coward I am. I force myself to move
and take a tiny step. There's another pause and then I take another brave step. Baby steps.
I'm a Gryffindor, I can do this. I stay with my back pressed against the wall, moving quietly
toward the stairs.

“Did you check all the rooms?”

I freeze, that wasn't some voice in my head. There really is someone here.

“Yes, I did a double check of all the rooms after you went through them.”

Two people! There are two men in my house!

“And?”

“They have to be downstairs.”

They're searching for something, but for what…? Wait a second.

“Even if they didn't come here, the girl might be able to tell us where they are.”

Me. They're looking for James, Gracie and *me*.

“Check all the rooms. We don't leave until this house has been searched from top to
bottom.”

They know I'm here. They're going to search the whole house. They're going to find
me.

Damn it!

I wheel around, my first instinct to run back to the living room and leap into the fireplace.
But a black cloaked, hooded figure blocks the living room doorway. I clasp a hand over my mouth,
silencing a scream. My head grows faint and a shiver runs the length of my spine as a masked face
glances in my direction. Then he disappears into the living room.

He didn't see me. I lower my hand and exhale. But they're going too. I'm shaking
uncontrollably, sweating and getting dizzy. I close my eyes, take a breath, and then open them.
They're going to find me if I stay here and even though I've never met these people in my
entire life, I doubt that they're going to ask me to join them for tea when they find me. Not
with that mask, not after what James said about the deaths and the Ministry break in.

I see a black shape flit through the doorway. Serial Killer #1 is still in the living room.
Maybe I can make it to the back door. I start to tiptoe down the hall, Serial Killer #2 sweeps past
me, and blocks my only hope at escaping.

Thanks a lot buddy! Now, I'm trapped.

I look left and Serial Killer #1 is there in the living room. I look right and there's
Serial Killer #2 putting up a barrier, the same kind of barrier I used to separate Gracie and
Sirius on the front stoop earlier. There's no way I can get to the backdoor, and besides I
think my friend here has ESP because I hear him muttering the same spell, closing down another
departure gate.

If I ever live through this I am going to personally make sure that my parents install at least
three more exits in my house for my convenience, put hundreds of windows in the hall way, and force
the Ministry to lower the Apparation age to 16 instead of 17. If I was just one year older, I could
pop right out of here, but nooooo, I need to wait until I'm 17. I hate them.

“There was someone here!” Serial Killer #1 cackles in the living room. No kidding! Wow, I'm
telling you, these guys are bright.

Serial Killer #2, just to show off and make my life a heck of a lot shorter, pops into the
living room doorway, right smack dab in front of me. I almost have a heart attack, but his back is
too me, and his big black hood blocks his friend from seeing me.

“Ah, yes, I see. There was someone here not too long ago.” Geniuses, these guys must have been
at the top of their class.

He glides into the living room, neither of them paying any heed to the hallway, and the girl
they're looking for, only a few feet behind them. If they had just glanced in my direction they
would have saw me raise my wand and mouth the spell that would bring them to their grave.

Yea, I wish. But unfortunately this is real life, not some muggle movie reel.

“*Stupefy*!”

Down Serial Killer #2 falls, face down on the carpeted floor of the hallway. SCORE! Gleefully, I
raise my wand and prepare to stun my next victim.

“*Stupefy*!”

Serial Killer #1 ducks and dives under the coffee table. My victory dance will have to be
postponed. I run to the living room, stopping in the doorway. I point my wand in the direction that
he disappeared and fire as many stunning, disarming, hexes and curses that I know, but when I stop
and turn on the lights. I realize that I've been damaging everything in the room except for
Serial Killer #1.

Crap! Serial Killers or not, Mom's going to murder me when she sees this mess I've made
of her *parlor*. Now, I really want to kill him. Where'd he go?

I move cautiously into the room, listening and watching the room for any sudden movement.
It's a lot easier now that I can actually see where I am and what I'm doing, but Serial
Killer #1 is still M.I.A. I think he got away. Coward! Go ahead and run like a baby to your mommy.
Wait until she finds out you were beaten by a girl.

Well, at least he won't be coming ba-

*Pop.*

I whip around, and Serial Killer #1 grins and grabs me by the throat. Stupid Apparation! Why
can't they change the age to 16? With his free hand he removes my wand, letting it fall to the
floor with a clatter. Then he watches with pleasure as I gasp for breath, and claw at the strong
hand cutting off my air supply.

“This is always the fun part,” he cackles, his eyes gleaming from behind his mask with an insane
light.

Um, I disagree.

I fight and struggle against him, but he just tightens his fingers around my fragile throat,
squeezing the life out of me. No! My vision's blurring, tiny stars and silver bubbles popping
before my fading eyes. NO! NO!

I can't die now, I'm still a virgin, I haven't even been kissed yet! You can't
die before you have your first kiss. It's just not right! I think about telling him this,
because I'm sure that once he hears this he'll let me live. Haha, what world do you live in
Evans? Besides I can't say anything when I can't breathe.

Everything's hazy and grey, my body's gone numb.

Looks like I'm going to die without my kiss. I just wish that he wasn't the last thing I
had to look at before I die. I mean, he's not attractive, at all. Merlin, couldn't you have
spared me? I'd rather look at Petunia than this psychopath.

I see a weird flash of light and hear a voice shout something as my world goes silent and black.
But now I hear an echo, a clamoring of voices from all directions. Green. Everything's green.
Why?

A baby wails, and someone laughs sending chills down my spine. And everything's silent and
still as if time has been frozen in a single photograph that I'm stuck inside of, tinted with a
greenish hue, so unlike the color of my eyes.

I don't understand, it's as if I'm looking through two different set of eyes,
responding to two different mind sets. Was this how James felt when the aliens inhabited his body?
But why does it seem so familiar and yet so strange? Somewhere in the confusion of our thoughts I
separate two similar ideas, the crying baby and…James?

**A/N**: Thank you for reviewing!!! Please review, I'd love to hear what you think and if
you could help me improve my writing that would be great!

-->



6. Who Are You?
---------------



**I'll Fight For You**


 **By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *JK Rowling owns the world, I just manipulate it.*

*A/N: Thanks again to everyone that took the time to review! I really appreciate it. I hope
you like this one!*

**Chapter 5: Who Are You?**

“WAKE UP!”

Well, I never thought that this was how I would be greeted upon arrival into the afterlife. I
was looking for more of a “Welcome!” “Hello!” heck, even “Howdy!” or “Hey, how you doing?”
would've been nice but never “WAKE UP!” I try to open my eyes but my poor eyelids are like
lead. Is this some kind of trick?

“I hate to do this Lily, I'm really sorry, but I have to-”

*SPLASH!*

Cold water! Freezing, cold water poured in my hair, now dripping down my neck and on my blouse.
Suddenly, I find my energy reserve. My eyes snap open and I bolt upright spluttering. Someone
dumped a vase of water on me. How dare them!

I search for the culprit and find a familiar face with unruly black hair falling in front of his
glasses. I look at him, wondering what kind of life after death thing this is supposed to be,
because it's certainly not heaven. I'm still in my mother's parlor - which is still a
disaster zone - and the person sitting in front of me -

“Who are you?” I ask, my mind drawing a blank.

His eyes widen.

“Did they hit you over the head as well?” he asks me, looking at me as if I've grown a sixth
head.

I stare at him, blinking, wondering why his name isn't coming to me. I'm cold, I
realize, because I'm all wet. Some jerk - the familiar boy, whose name I can't recall -
decided to dump a vase of freezing cold water on me.

“Lily it's me James-”

“POTTER!” I snarl, my memories flooding back to me. Just a temporary relapse! I'm fine now.
For some odd reason he looks younger than I remember, and didn't he just die? Wait. No, that
was me. Are we both dead? The room with the green light, a baby crying, a chilling laugh - it
flashes before my eyes and then it slips to the back of my mind.

I'm wet, my mother's parlor's a mess, and Potter's with me. Nope, either
we're in hell or I'm alive.

“Why'd you- OW!” My hand flies to my sore neck and I notice the aching pain. Yes, I believe
I am very much alive. Mr. Serial Killer must have let me live after all and I'm sure he dirtied
my flesh with his soiled fingernails.

Tenderly, James removes my hand.

“Don't touch. It's badly bruised. My mom will look at it when we get back,” he assures
me.

I bite down on my lip, trying not to move or touch my neck.

“Does anything else hurt? Can you stand? Did they do anything other than try to strangle you?”
he asks, holding onto my hand and helping me to my feet.

“Other than scare the hell out of me and cause psychological damage?”

James quietly chuckles and relief spreads across his face.

“I take it you're alright then,” he concludes.

“Um, no. Actually, I'm soaking wet and freezing cold because somebody decided that I needed
a shower-” I begin angrily, but James cuts me off.

“I'm sorry Lily but you weren't waking up fast enough and we really need to get out of
here.”

“Serial Killer #1 and 2!” I gasp.

“What?” James asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Where are they?” I race to the doorway and look into the hallway. But I find nothing there but
a blood stain from Serial Killer #2's nose when I stunned him and he fell face down on the
carpeted floor of the hallway. I spin, moving my neck and causing it to burn with excruciating
pain. Even with all the pain from turning one hundred and eighty degrees, Serial Killer #1
isn't there either.

They're gone!

“Oh! You mean those two murderers, the ones that tried to kill you!” James spits out, his eyes
flashing angrily.

“Yeah, those two. Are they still here? Wait. What happened? How'd you get here?” I ask
addressing James for the first time.

“Floo powder,” he answers.

Suddenly, I'm angry. No, I'm furious. Now, I remember exactly whose fault it is that my
neck is hurting me and why Potter has always been, and always will be a JERK.

I walk right up to him and jab my index finger into the center of his chest.

“You left me!” I yell.

James brushes my hand away, taking a step closer to me.

“You think I left you? You were supposed to be right behind me! I handed you the floo powder!”
James shouts, shoving a trembling hand holding an invisible floo powder pouch underneath my nose.
We're both shaking and I don't know whether it's because we're angry or because of
the near death experience that he may or may not have walked in on.

“Exactly! But -” I interrupt, but James keeps going.

“Why'd you stick around until they showed up? You knew I had to floo Gracie back,” his voice
is harsh but I see that his eyes have softened.

“I don't know where you live,” I finish, drowning out whatever he was going on about
next.

“Oh,” James says, his mouth forming a perfect “O”.

“I forgot about Gracie,” I admit guiltily, looking down at my shoes.

An uneasy silence fills the room, broken only by the ticking of the clock I knocked off the
mantelpiece earlier when I decided to blow up the living room. As I study my sneakers, I notice
that my shoes are practically touching Potter's. I lift my head, and realize just how close we
are. But Potter, who was always more than happy to put us in this kind of position and try to grope
me, has his head bent and his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“We should uh, really get out of here,” I suggest casually, breaking the embarrassing
silence.

“Yeah, you're right,” James agrees, clearing his throat and looking up.

“Er, James?” I glance around the room, noting the mess that I made in my fruitless attempt to
finish Serial Killer #1 off. A white powder dusts the coffee table, looking suspiciously like the
floo powder from the now empty floo pouch resting underneath the couch.

“Don't worry I brought more,” James chuckles, taking a smaller leather pouch from his pocket
and handing it to me. “You are coming with me this time, right?” he asks, holding it out of my
reach.

“Sure, but it might help if you tell me where I'm going.” I smile.

James takes a handful, big enough for the two of us.

“I'll tell you what, we'll go together,” he offers, generously.

“I'd like that.” I surprise myself by saying this to him. But of course it's only
because I'm a little shaken up after two serial killers came waltzing into my house and decided
to kill me for no apparent reason. It's not because Potter is being so nice to me.

“Hey, you never told me what happened,” I say, suddenly.

“And *you* never told *me* what happened,” he retorts. “We'll swap stories later,”
he promises when he sees the look on my face. I nod reluctantly, and start toward the fireplace. As
I turn and face the living room, two thoughts come to mind.

“Can we do something about this mess?” I ask, knowing that if I leave it like this I probably
won't live to see my seventeenth birthday thanks to a very angry Mom.

“They'll take care of it,” James says, tugging on my hand, pulling me anxiously toward the
fireplace.

“And what about my parents?” I hold back, refusing to leave until I know that they'll be
okay.

“They're going to contact them and send them to another safe location,” James reassures
me.

“Okay.” I nod, and then stop with a frown.

“Who are they?” I ask, suspiciously.

“Oh, some Ministry dude that showed up after…sorry what were their names?”

“Serial Killer #1 and #2.”

“Yeah, after those two goons took off some idiot, Kenny or something or other-”

“They got away?!” I exclaim, alarmed and angry.

In the movies, the hero gets the kiss, nearly loses their life and then kicks the bad guy's
butt to Timbuktu. I didn't get the kiss, yet, but I did everything else except I would've
been killed if someone hadn't intervened, and the bad guys got away. That's not supposed to
happen. The bad guys are supposed to get taken in by the cops or die, or end up humiliated or on
some remote island in the middle of nowhere. But then again, this isn't the life of some action
film super hero. This is the life of an ordinary sixteen-year-old witch, Lily Evans.

“I'll tell you everything tonight,” James says, squeezing my hand.

“It is tonight.” I can't help but laugh, wondering what time it is. This has been the
longest day ever.

“Right, well tomorrow then.”

“Okay, you promise?” I ask, holding back.

“Will you hurry up and get inside of the fireplace if I do?” James sighs and I nod in reply. “I
promise, alright? Now let's get out of here before your Sissy Killers-”

“Serial Killers,” I correct him quickly, only slightly insulted that he would refer to them as
being girly. I worked hard to kick their butt, and I think I should remind him that I am after all
a girl.

“Right Siamese, Sissy, Cereal Boxers whatever they were, just get in here.”

I chuckle and hop in beside him. He moves to take the floo powder from me, hanging onto my hand
a few seconds longer than he should have.

“Oh, and Lily? Let's get one thing straight.” His eyes look deeply into mine and a hurt,
serious, expression lines the handsome face that was nearly laughing an instant before. I wait,
impatiently wondering what could make him so sad so suddenly.

“I would never leave you,” he whispers.

My breath hitches in my throat but he takes the floo powder from me and turns away. The emerald
flames engulf us and still I stare at the sixteen-year-old boy standing beside me who I thought I
knew so well, but now I barely recognize.

“I know,” I reply, softly.

“The Lioness!” James shouts.

A roaring noise fills the air and I can't even hear myself think, let alone speak. The
emerald flames blind me and the living room disappears from view. I hang onto the only solid thing
left, James. Everything's spinning out of control and I think of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz
for some strange reason. I keep on waiting to see a cow flying by or a wicked woman on a bicycle
with Toto in her basket, but the only thing I see is the green flames surrounding us, a few
flickering images of parlors, basements and various other rooms. I can't be sure, it all
happened so quickly, but I could have sworn I was seeing the view from other wizarding home
fireplaces. Gracie told me that's why they call it the floo network, or as her younger brother
Chris sometimes called it the WWWW.

*“The what?” I asked him once.*

*“The Wizarding World Wide Web,” he informed me with a roll of his eyes, the same color and
shape as Gracie's. “Come on Lil, get with the times.”*

*“It sounds like the internet,” I laughed.*

*“The internet?” His eyes lit up with curiosity.*

*"Don't answer him Lily, or he'll interrogate you all night!" Gracie
groaned, but her brother looked up at me with an innocent pleading look written all over his cute
little face. So, as usual I ignored Gracie and gave into what would be the beginning of a very long
game of twenty questions. But Chris and I were used to this, as we exchanged a knowing grin, we
both loved to annoy Gracie, and this was one of our favorite recurring opportunities.*

*“Yea, it's some weird computer network thing of the future. It won't be around for at
least another ten years but Dad won't stop talking about it. This American guy Al Bore or
something or other invented-”*

*“What's a computer?” he interrupted me.*

*“It's like a TV, except-”*

*“Explain to me what the Teetee is again.”*

*“It's a TV, and it transmits pictures like movies and shows-”*

*“What's a movie?”*

*“Well there's lots of kind of movies, they're like books. You know romances with
gross kissy stuff-”*

*“Oh, like Gracie and Keith do in the broom closet!” he cut in enthusiastically.*

*“Exactly, like Keith and Gracie - wait - Keith?” I spun around and faced my best friend whose
face was redder than her Gryffindor Quidditch robes.*

*“You're dating Keith Abbott?” I giggled and glanced between the brother and
sister.*

*“Keith Abbot?” The portrait swings open and three of my* favorite *people walked into
the Gryffindor Common Room. As always* *they* *have* *perfect timing. “Who's
dating Keith Abbott?” Black asked**,* *smirking.*

*Lupin, always the observant one - since he's the only one with half a brain - spotted
Gracie's tomato face.*

*“Grace?” he gasped.*

*“You're dating Abbott?” Potter's mouth dropped open, a mixture of amusement and anger
on his face.*

*“Keith Abbott!?” Black exclaimed shrilly and mock fainted onto the sofa. “Is this true
Chrissy, tell me it's not true!” he moaned dramatically in a girly voice.*

*Gracie didn't answer them and neither did Chris, because suddenly Gracie screamed and
launched herself at her younger brother who quickly ran behind my arm chair for protection.*

*“YOU ARE SO DEAD!” she screamed, lunging toward him and missing again.*

*Chris giggled and ran for his life.*

My memories of happier, Serial Killer free days at Hogwarts with my best friend and her then
living younger brother are interrupted by a sudden whooshing noise, as James and I are tossed
mercilessly out of the fireplace and onto a hardwood floor.

*Ow*.

At least we're not spinning anymore. Near the end there, I could have sworn I saw a flying
cow, but then again maybe it was because after that eternal trip on the revved up merry-go-round, I
was really starting to lose it.

It doesn't help matters that I landed on a hardwood floor and something heavy, no wait,
someone, is on top of me.

My eyes open and I find a pair of hazel eyes inches away from my own. You know I think this is
Déjà vu, I feel like we've already been in this position before. I mean the alarmingly close
thing, where I can actually see what color Potter's eyes are. It scares me to think that after
having the upper hand all these years, suddenly, James catches me off guard not once but twice in
one day. But then again, murder is not an every day occurrence.

If it had been anyone but Potter, I would've had my hero kiss even before the Cereal Boxers,
I mean Serial Killers, showed up. But my prince is apparently extremely late.

It takes me only a full ten seconds to finally find my tongue.

“Potter, off!” I groan, shoving him weakly.

“Sorry, Lily.” He scrambles off of me, and gets to his feet.

I lie on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. I'm having trouble catching my breath,
probably because Potter squished me. Oh, and did I forget to mention the fact that my neck is now
killing me!? Taking a trip on the floo powder roller coaster and then landing on the hardwood floor
with Potter on top of me was definitely not what the doctor ordered.

“Are you okay?” James asks. His face moves into my line of vision and I see him looking
worriedly down at me.

What nerve! Merlin, sometimes even I'm surprised at what an idiot Potter is. He can be such
a brainless git at times that I wonder if it's possible that he was born without a brain.

“Oh, yea! Just peachy!” I say with a fake smile, struggling to sit up. He doesn't get the
hint.

“Help me up!” I hold out a hand and James quickly grabs it. With his help, I stand up.

“Is your neck still hurting you?” he asks, studying me.

“A little bit,” I admit. Wow, Potter does have a brain after all. No where near a full one, but
at least something's up there.

“I think my Mom's upstairs.”

We landed in a small family room and James leads me out of it and into a hallway. Before we
reach the elegantly winding staircase that leads up to a second and perhaps a third floor, I see a
tall woman running down the steps to meet us.

“James!”

Right away I realize who she is, not because of the strong resemblance to James, but because of
the way she jumps down the last four steps and pulls James into a hug that leaves him gasping for
air.

“You're home safe! One second you were looking in on Gracie and then the next I turned
around and you were gone. You can't wander off James, especially not at a time like this! Do
you realize what a fright you caused for your poor mother? You're going to be the death of me
James! Don't you ever do that again, you hear me? ”

“Mom-” James squeaks, looking as if his circulation is being cut off by this tall but slender
woman.

“But you're home! Thank Merlin, you're alright!” His mother's voice cracks and if
anything it appears that she's holding onto James even tighter. I think his face is turning
blue.

I turn away, allowing mother and son to have their moment. A pang of sadness hits me as I think
of Mom who I left behind and then of someone else who will never again run into the waiting arms of
a worried mother who breaks down into tears of joy at the sight of her safe and sound, or hear the
laugh of a relieved father as he holds her and kisses her cheek, or get their hair pulled by a
pesky little brother who teases and whose laughter rings through the house breaking the
tension.

*Gracie*.

I look up at the winding staircase wondering if my best friend's here, sleeping, quietly
grieving, or planning the cold blooded murderer's death in a dark room.

“James, you didn't tell me you were bringing home a girl.” His mother's voice interrupts
my train of thought.

I wheel around and face her. Tall, slender, and beautiful with curly raven hair falling just
past her shoulders and large hazel eyes Mrs. Potter reminds me of Gracie's mother. For a
moment, I just stand there, speechless. I've seen James's mother from afar, and in passing
at Gracie's house a few times, I think we might have been introduced once when I was twelve,
but I couldn't remember her ever looking so much like her sister, Hope Adams.

“Hello Mrs. Potter.” I smile, regaining my composure.

“Lily? Lily Evans?” she asks softly, laying her hands on my shoulders.

I nod, shyly.

“I didn't even recognize you at first. The last time I saw you, you were only twelve and so
small, and now look you've grown into a beautiful young woman.”

I blush.

“Oh it's so good to see you!” She embraces me and whispers in my ear, “My son adores you.” I
blush harder, doing everything I can to avoid looking at James who's peering at me over his
mother's shoulder. She pulls back with what must have been a mischievous smile on her tired,
blotchy, tear streaked face.

I fight the urge to laugh, because she acts as if it's some sort of secret. I think James
himself announced to the entire school, that he wants to go to bed with me. Everyone in Hogwarts
knows, and Mrs. Potter, I think James adores everything that's female. Still I find myself
turning a brilliant shade of magenta after she tells me this, and I have trouble meeting
James's eyes for some odd reason.

Suddenly, her eyes widen.

“You're all wet! And your neck, what happened to your neck?!”

My eyes involuntarily dart to James and Mrs. Potter swings around and glares at her son. James
steps back, cowering under her penetrating gaze.

“It was the attackers!” I blurt out. I was looking forward to watching Mrs. Potter kick the crap
out of James, but I can't lie to this woman who is obviously NOTHING like her conceited
son.

“The attackers?”

“Two wizards showed up at my house… one of them tried to strangle me...” I break off before
getting into the details of how I kicked their butt, and cut straight to the point, when I see the
haunted look that suddenly appears in the woman's hazel eyes.

“Say no more, I'll get you all cleaned up and better in no time.” She takes my arm and pulls
me into a room to the left of the winding staircase. “Oh, and James, you have a visitor in the
kitchen.”

I catch a last glimpse of a perplexed James, going to the right, before Mrs. Potter promptly
brings me into the room and shuts the door behind us.

She waves her wand, using a simple drying spell to get me dry again. I feel dumb, knowing that I
could've easily done this myself. Mrs. Potter lifts up a mirror on the opposite wall, removing
a towel and a bottle containing a brown colored liquid.

“Here wrap this around your neck,” she says gently, as she hands the towel to me.

Obediently, I do as I'm told. I feel a little silly with a towel around my neck, but within
a few seconds the pain is gone. Turning, I look in the mirror, noticing the bruise for the first
time.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust upon seeing the purplish handprint that Serial Killer #1 left on my
neck. Cautiously, I touch the rapidly fading bruise, running my hands over the spots where his
fingers dug into the flesh intent on ending my short life. Mrs. Potter's sad face appears in
the mirror behind me.

“The mark might stay for a while, but you can only notice it if you look closely.”

I remove my hand and turn my back on the mirror.

“Drink this. I don't think there was any internal damage, but just to be sure I think you
better take some of this.” She hands me what looks like a shot glass filled with a brown foaming
liquid. Just what I need, a hard drink, even though I've never had one in my life, but hey
there's always a time for firsts! I drink it quickly and instantly realize that it's
definitely not what I was hoping it would be. Good thing I swallowed it fast, it tastes
horrible!

“You're one lucky girl,” she tells me. “By the looks of it, you were pretty close to death.
If he held on for another ten seconds I think you would've been dead.”

Dead? I thought I was dying, but then I woke up and James was there telling me about the
Ministry Official, Kenny, or whatever his name was that let them get away. That reminds me. I
really have to find out what happened after I passed out. I get the feeling that Serial Killer #1
didn't let go of me just because he suddenly had a change of heart when he realized I
hadn't had my first kiss yet and decided to let me live and become a monk. Another question
surfaces in my mind.

“Mrs. Potter-”

“Please call me Heather.” She smiles.

“Mrs. Po - I mean, Heather, is Gracie here?”

Her smile vanishes and the haunted look returns to her hazel eyes.

“Yes, she's staying here. But I don't think it's a good idea to approach her right
now. She's had a rough day,” she finishes, busying herself with folding the towel and returning
everything to the cabinet.

I know she had a rough day. I was with her through it all.

“You'll be staying with us, I presume?”

“Er, well, I was supposed to stay with Gracie but-” I hesitate, and she interrupts before I even
mention Gracie.

“I'll set up a room for you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Potter,”

“Call me Heather,” she corrects me.

“Thank you,”

We walk out and she closes the door behind us.

“The room won't take long. I think James is in the kitchen if you're looking for him.
It's the first door on your right.”

“Thanks.” I manage a small smile as we part ways. She climbs the steps, and me, feeling out of
place, awkward and extremely curious, end up walking toward the first door on my right.

Hesitantly, I approach the swinging door but I pause outside of it, despite my burning curiosity
egging me on. I just feel weird walking in on a closed door conversation, even if it is a swinging
door, it's still technically closed, and it's not my house. I start to walk away, thinking
that the room might be set up by now and I can go to sleep, but the sound of my name roots me to
the spot.

“Lily?!” I recognize James's voice immediately.

“Is that your girlfriend's name? Then yes, I'm afraid it does involve her,” a deep
unfamiliar male voice rumbles. First of all buddy, I am not his girlfriend, and second of all, what
am I involved in?

“But she's muggleborn, her parents are muggles.”

So what if I'm muggleborn? It never seemed to stop you from stalking me for the past five
years.

The man lowers his voice, and I have to move closer to the door in order to hear what
they're saying.

“Have you been reading the paper son?”

No he hasn't!

“Of course.”

LIAR! The day James Potter picks up anything and reads it will be the day I eat my shoe.

“Read it carefully, and double check the list of victims again.”

Right, like that's going to happen - wait, victims? I lean against the door straining to
hear more. Unfortunately, I forget that it's a swinging door. The door swings open, bringing me
with it.

*POP!*

The only one in the kitchen is James. It appears that the mysterious visitor with the deep voice
has vanished. Stupid Apparation. I didn't even catch a glimpse of the mysterious visitor and I
haven't the faintest clue as to what they were discussing.

“Lily!” James gasps.

“James,” I say, giving him my best smile. Folding my arms over my chest, I lean against the
kitchen table in front of him.

“Who was that?” I inquire, sweetly.

“No one,” James lies, failing to meet my eyes.

“Well, then why were you talking to yourself?” I ask, looking directly at him.

James's head jerks up and an amused expression crosses his face.

“You were eavesdropping?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No,” I retort, haughtily.

“You were, weren't you?” James presses. A shadow of a smile surfaces on his face.

“Maybe,” I reluctantly admit, inspecting my nails.

“I can't believe it, perfect prefect Evans caught red-handed doing the very thing that she
wrote me up for doing last year,” James laughs, though it's empty and sounds more like a
bark.

“Well, I think I have a right to eavesdrop when the conversation concerns me,” I snap.

“How long were you standing there?” James frowns.

“Long enough to know that I am NOT your girlfriend and that you do NOT read the paper,” I
reply.

“He just assumed that you were,” James says, quickly.

A likely story.

“You didn't correct him,” I point out.

“And besides, you don't read the paper either,” James adds.

“Yes, I do! Unlike you Potter I actually know how to read,” I shoot back angrily.

“The Daily Prophet?” James's eyebrow disappears in his messy hair and I can see a flicker of
amusement in his eyes.

I open my mouth and close it instantly. He has a point.

“Okay, so I don't, but my parents are muggles and I can always read someone else's at
Hogwarts,” I defend myself. James looks unconvinced so I accept the minor loss and go in for the
kill.

“Since you've been reading the paper ever so carefully, why don't you tell me about this
list of victims and why it involves me.”

This time it's James who's stumped. He runs a hand through his messy hair and leans
against the table beside me.

“Well?” I prod, impatiently.

“I don't know,” he sighs. His eyes move to his shoes and he shuffles them about. “I
don't understand what he was talking about. I mean I read the Daily Prophet, but nothing's
making any sense.” He shakes his head.

“Maybe, if you told me what you were talking about before I came in, or showed me the Daily
Prophet I could figure it out,” I suggest casually, recalling the letter Gracie sent me and the
information that she had withheld from me, and James had promised to tell me about when we got
here.

“Maybe, if you hadn't walked in and interrupted our conversation I'd already know,” he
answers, kicking my ankle lightly.

“I didn't realize that it was a swinging door,” I say sheepishly, kicking him back.

“Sure,” James says sarcastically, as he kicks me again.

“So, you're not going to tell me who this mysterious person was?” I ask kicking his ankle a
little harder.

“I thought we agreed that I was talking to myself,” James quips.

I step on his foot before he can kick me and he looks up. Our eyes meet.

“What's going on?” I ask, seriously.

James exhales, his eyes moving away from mine. I feel his foot slide out from underneath mine.
Oh no you don't, you are not getting away. I grab him, placing a hand on his forearm.
Reluctantly, he stays put.

“Tell me,” I beg, not for the first time. “Please,” I plead, tugging gently on his sleeve. I
need to know, if I have to wait any longer it's going to drive me insane. Now that my
name's come up in the argument, my best friend's family was murdered and I've
discovered that there's a list of victims, it's personal.

He looks at me, his hazel eyes sad and dark.

“Not now,” he whispers, turning away.

“Then when are you going to tell me?” I ask, maneuvering myself so that I'm in front of him
again.

“I told you, not right now,” he repeats with a little more force and a touch of volume.

I study his face, and his eyes filled with multiple emotions, all ones that reflect the trial
that we went through today with the arrival of a midnight black owl. James doesn't have the
strength or the patience to talk, and I am in no mood or position to fight with him. Wearily, I nod
my head.

“Okay,” I whisper, taking a step back.

He looks mildly surprised but relieved that I've decided to wait. His tense muscles, relax
beneath my fingertips, and I notice that I still have a hand wrapped around his left arm. I try to
move it, but instead I end up rubbing the spot and discover that my hand seems to have a mind
entirely of its own. Our eyes interlock and I feel his hand suddenly go to my waist.

“James is Lily here-”


James jumps and I move away from him at the speed of light.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” Mrs. Potter, er, Heather apologizes, looking slightly amused in the
doorway. The funny thing is she doesn't look sorry at all. In fact her eyes have a hint of
mischief dancing in them. It's almost as if she assumes that we were…no…we didn't look like
we were…nah…

Then why did I move away from him when she walked in?

She startled me, that's all.

“I didn't mean to interrupt you-”

“You weren't,” James speaks up quietly. “Lily and I were just going to bed.”

Thank you, James. I send him a small grateful smile.

“Of course. But I think it would be best if Lily would sleep in her own room,” his mother
continues with that same mischievous glint in her eyes, though her voice is now stern as if
she's trying to discipline us.

I'm so tired, but I could have sworn that she was implying something else. I look at James
confused. His cheeks look a little pink.

“It's not that I don't trust you two,” she hurriedly adds.

James blushes madly and I catch my jaw just in time. My face flushes when I realize how
embarrassing this situation is. Now she not only thinks that I'm his girlfriend, but that I
actually snog him in her kitchen of all places and that I would actually sleep with her thick
headed son.

“But I would prefer it if-”

“Mom!” James interrupts, through gritted teeth. His mother stops in mid sentence, her face the
picture of innocence. Now I know exactly where he gets it from. “Lily and I are not sleeping
together.”

“Of course not dear, now just as long as you two stay in your separate rooms-”

“MOM!”

I would've laughed at James's red face if it hadn't been for the fact that I'm a
part of this mortifying scene.

“Okay, Lily your room is on the third floor, three doors on the right,” she informs me.

“Thank you,” I mumble, my face still flushed with embarrassment as I brush past the two of them
and run out of the kitchen.

“Thanks a lot Mom,” James's voice carries down the hall after me.

“What did I do?” Heather asks, innocently.

Yea, they're definitely related. Taking the steps two at a time I finally reach the third
floor. Three doors to the left and I find the room just where she told me it would be. The door
opens easily, and I rush inside and slam it shut behind me.

Thank Merlin, that's over. I don't think that's something I would like to repeat.
Imagine snogging, or even, ew, sleeping with him. Yuck, the thought's too horrible to even
conceive. It gives me the heebie jeebies. It's like a scene out of a horror movie, I shudder, I
writhe at the mention of the idea. I have nightmares about it. I'm sorry Mrs. Potter but unless
I'm suddenly struck by lightening that is never, I repeat, NEVER, going to happen.

I push all disgusting thoughts of Potter from my mind and glance around the room. Even in the
dim light of a lone candle, I can tell it's spacious and larger than our dining room. I could
care less what it looked like even if they gave me a vacancy in the barn I would be thrilled. My
eyes fall upon the comfortable looking king sized bed situated by the window. I think I've died
and gone to heaven.

Running, I jump onto the soft bed, bouncing a few times and then settling comfortably on my
back. I remove my wand, my shrunken belongings and a few scraps of paper from my pocket, placing
them on the table beside my bed. I don't bother to change out of my clothes. Right now, I just
want to go to sleep.

I lean back into the pillows and close my eyes.

Sleep at last.

Yea, I wish.

*Crrrrreeeaaakkkk.*

Ten seconds later, or at least it felt like ten seconds, my eyes snap open at the sound of
creaking floor boards. At first I think I'm dreaming, but then I notice the door swinging open
as if by some invisible force. Sleepily, I push myself up on my elbows, watching the door through
half closed eyes. I blink and rub my eyes, but still, no one's there.

It must've been the wind. No big deal. I lay back and close my eyes again. I hear the door
shut. How strange, I don't recall it being very windy tonight but apparently that late summer
breeze is really whipping through the house tonight.

I'm so tired that I should've fallen immediately back to sleep, but a second sound
causes my body to tense, and all thoughts of sleep to vanish from my mind.

“Harry,”

The name is whispered so softly, that I swear it's a figment of my imagination. Again, I
would've drifted off to sleep, if it hadn't been for the fact that the name sent a weird
sort of shock through my body. Wide awake, I hold my breath, clutching the sheets to my chest and
wondering why I'm so dizzy all of a sudden. My mind buzzes, it's like déjà vu, except
I've never known anyone named Harry in my entire life. The feeling passes but now I'm fully
aware that I'm not alone in the room. It sounds like there's an animal scurrying toward the
closet, or someone tiptoeing to my bedside.

“Harry?”

The voice is closer and louder than the last time and this time I'm sure it's a someone
- not a something - that has joined me in the bedroom. Unless animals can talk now, which
wouldn't be a huge surprise since we're in the Wizarding World.

After two Serial Killers arrived unannounced in my house you'd think I would've learned
something. But the name provokes a curious feeling and the voice is quiet and childlike. Instead of
reaching for my wand, I stay still with my eyes wide open and stare up at the ceiling. Patiently, I
wait, and then-

“Harry I'm scared, I had a nightmare-” the voice stops abruptly, and I roll over to face the
child that mistook me for this mysterious Harry person. A small girl with a head full of dark curls
looks back at me fearfully.

I regain my composure, and smile kindly at the child who can't be more than six years old.
This little harmless girl nearly gave me a heart attack. She backs up a step into a shaft of light
streaming in from the window. Bathed in the moonlight, I notice her brown eyes wide and full of
fear and confusion. She's almost as shocked as I am.

“Hi, I'm Lily. What's your name?” I ask in a soothing voice.

“Where's Harry?” she asks, tearfully. Her eyes are watering and I can tell by her blotchy
red eyes that this won't be the first time she's cried today.

“I don't know. Why don't you tell me your name and we can go look for him?” Very slowly
and carefully I sit up and start to get out of bed. Cautiously, I approach the trembling girl
who's now wildly looking around the room in terror and confusion.

“Is he your Dad?” I ask softly, kneeling down in front of her.

She shakes her head, tossing the midnight black curls from her face, revealing an untreated gash
on her chest, slashes on her shoulder and a black and blue around her left eye. I notice dried
blood on her garments which are too big for her, way too big for her. Who is this girl?

“What happened to you?” I ask, horrified by the sight and condition of her injuries.

“Where's Harry?” she asks again, louder this time with tears coursing down the front of her
face. “Where is he? WHO ARE YOU?”

“I'm Lily. Who's Harry?” I echo, reaching for my wand. Intent on healing her, I aim it
at the gash on her chest, but the girl screams at the sight of the wand and clambers onto the
windowsill.

“Wait!” I plead. “Who are you?”

But the girl jumps and disappears into the night.

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Please review and constructive
criticism is always appreciated!** **I know you're probably confused, but stick with me. It
will make sense eventually.**

-->



7. I'm Falling
--------------



**I'll Fight For You**


 **By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *You know the deal.*

**Chapter 6: I'm Falling**

The curtains blow in the gentle night breeze, causing the moonlight to dance across the bedroom
floor. Not a sound penetrates my waiting ears. Even the breeze, toying with the curtains, is
mysteriously silent. I stand rooted to the floor, waiting for the girl to reappear. But she
doesn't.

“NO!”

Racing to the window, I grasp the sill with both hands and lean out. My head spins when I see
the ground so far below. I'm on the third floor, three stories up from the bushes beneath the
window. From here they look so small. They're no bigger than an ink bottle. And somewhere down
below, broken and lifeless is an innocent child, who jumped fearfully from the window because of
me.

“Oh no,” I moan in despair, dropping my head on my arms. Merlin, this can't be happening to
me. Why me? I didn't want to hurt her! I only wanted to help her! Why'd she have to jump?
Now I'll have to live with this for the rest of my life. Every step I take I'll have this
weight upon my chest, knowing that a child died because I scared her.

My eyes sting with unshed tears. I have no more tears left, but the sorrow is unending. It's
like a bottomless pit that ensnares the senses and encloses you like a fog.

Suddenly, I'm crouched on the windowsill, poised and ready to jump, and the funny thing is,
I have no idea how I got there. But that's where I am now, blinded by grief and guilt and not
fully aware of my actions. Shakily, I remove my hands from the sill and start to stand on unsteady
legs.

*One*.

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

*Two*.

“LILY!?”

*Three*!

For one glorious moment I'm free, soaring through the air. I can fly! The moment's short
lived because suddenly I'm flat on my stomach, aching all over.

*Ouch*.

Well, I take it I survived the fall…barely. I force myself to move, pressing my palms against
the black shingles. Wait a minute, this isn't grass! From the window it looked green, and there
was bushes and grass, but this is definitely not greenery. Pushing myself up, I lift my head and
find to my surprise that I'm on a…roof?

“LiiiiillllllllYYYYYYY!”

I look up. INCOMING!

*CRASH!*

Too late.

Someone lands on the roof and I fall back on my stomach again. Painfully, I try to push myself
up to investigate, but whoever it is, is sitting on my legs.

“Can you, er, move?” I ask whoever it is that's behind me.

Silently, someone moves over and finally freeing my legs. Two strong familiar hands grasp my
shoulders and they help me sit up. I lean back against the house and turn to look at the person
that foolishly jumped after me and probably paralyzed me. I shouldn't be surprised to see him,
after fate has thrown us together for over twelve hours of unwanted bonding time, but I am.

“Potter,” I groan.

“Wasn't that fun?” Potter asks, breathlessly.

“What part of that did you find fun? Was it when I fell face first on a roof or when you decided
to turn my legs into useless pancakes?” I wonder.

“Both!”

I knew he was going to say that. Why did I ask?

“What's wrong?” he asks, tilting his head. “You don't seem happy to see me.”

“That's because I'm not,” I reply, rolling my eyes. I thought that was obvious.

“You are too,” he insists, poking me.

“I am not,” I retort.

“Are too,” James counters.

“I AM NOT!”

“Liar, you're really secretly thrilled to see me, but you're too stubborn to admit it,”
he says with a devilish grin.

I snort. Dream on, pretty boy.

“Right, Potter. Just like I secretly love you but I'm too scared to profess my undying love
for you,” I answer, sarcastically.

“I knew it!” he exclaims, gleefully.

It's no use arguing with him. Believe me, if I tried we'd be here all night and it still
wouldn't get through that thick Quidditch obsessed, perverted pea sized brain of his. So I let
him ramble a bit, tuning him out as I try to remember why I jumped in the first place.

The girl!

“You've loved me since the first year Evans. I knew that if I waited a bit, you would see
things my way - Hey Evans, what do you think you're doing?”

He grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me away from the edge of the roof.

“Let go of me Potter!” I snarl, crawling back to the gutter again. But James resists, and yanks
me back again as if I'm on a leash.

“Where are you going?” he asks me.

“To the ground, that was my original intent before this random roof materialized out of
nowhere.” I look up, wondering how I couldn't possibly see this landing from my window.

James chuckles and as if reading my mind he replies quietly, “You wouldn't be able to see it
from the window, wizarding homes are built differently than your muggle houses. We use magic, not
everything coincides with the usual geometric laws of matter and gravity in our world.”

“Oh.” Weird, sometimes I feel like I'm on another planet.

“So, why were you trying to escape?” James asks again. “Am I really that bad?” he jokes with a
mock hurt expression on his face.

“No,” I admit, and his face lights up with a smug smile. “I mean, yes, you really are that bad.”
The grin dissolves, and his shoulders slump. “But the real reason why I tried to jump was because
this little girl showed up in my room and she jumped out the window when I approached her.”

“So, I wasn't the reason why you jumped!”

“No,” I sigh, remembering that someone had been calling my name and James had fallen out of the
sky and on top of me moments later. But that would mean that James had been in my room.

“What were you doing in my room?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

James gapes at me, but has nothing to say.

God, he is such a pervert! If it wasn't for the fact that his aunt, uncle and cousin just
died and his mother is so nice, I would push him off the roof right now.

“You're sick!” I spit, with disgust.

“No, it's not what you think,” Potter stammers.

“Walking into a girl's room when the door's closed? Who does that? Only people with one
thing on their mind and that's-“

“It wasn't your room,” he interrupts.

“Of course not, but you were right there when your mom told me what room I would be sleeping
in.”

“Third floor, three doors to the *right*,” James repeats, putting emphasis on the word
right as if it's some secret code word that I'm supposed to pick up on.

“You even memorized it!” I stop and it starts to sink in.

Three doors to the *right*.

*“Where's Harry?”*

I went three doors to the *left*.

My hand flies to my mouth.

I slept in Harry's bed.

“Oh my god!” I whisper, flushing in embarrassment. Some poor guy was out of a bed and this poor
little girl got the scare of her life when she found me sleeping in her Dad/Brother/whoever's
bed.

“I heard someone yelling so I went to investigate, and what do I find but Ms. Lilllian Evans
trying to jump out the window,” James continues, sending me a curious look.

“I'm sorry,” I hastily apologize. “I made the mistake of going left instead of right. When I
saw the candlelit room and the empty bed, I just assumed that it was my room.”

“That's okay, everyone makes mistakes, even perfect prefect Lillian Evans,” he laughs
loudly. “I can't believe it!” Then he starts having convulsions, when he sees the offended look
on my face. I swear he laughed for ten minutes straight. Okay, so I made a small error, but does he
really have to go and rub it in? It's not necessary, but this is Mr.
I'm-Better-Than-Everyone-Else so I guess it is.

“Unbelievable, that room's been locked for as long as I can remember,” he recalls, his
amusement turning to puzzlement. “I just don't get it, Mom forbid me to enter that room, mind
you she always had the door locked with every spell you could think of, I tried everything.”

I don't doubt it. James Potter has enough curiosity to kill a million cats.

“And tonight, of all nights, I discover the door wide open and you jumping out the window.” He
scratches his head.

“Has it really been locked, or are you just making this up?” I ask, intrigued by this tidbit of
mysterious information.

“I swear, just ask my mom! Countless times she threatened to cut my ear off if I continued to
try that unmovable doorknob,” James replies, and I know he's not kidding.

We lapse into silence, me contemplating why the door was always locked and why it suddenly
opened for me tonight, and James lost in thoughts about Merlin only knows what. His attention span
isn't all that long so I imagine that his mind's already halfway to Mars by now.

I should've remembered that James Potter is always full of surprises and tonight is no
different.

“Honestly, the way that Mom went on about that door, you'd think she was keeping a chimaera
in there. But it's just an ordinary bedroom.” He frowns, dwelling over the same thing I was.
Wow, this is unusual, Potter and I are thinking along the same lines.

“It's Harry's bedroom,” I blurt out suddenly.

“What?” Potter asks, looking at me.

“It's Harry's bedroom,” I repeat, loud enough for him to hear.

“Who told you that?” A funny look crosses his face.

“That little girl, the one I was telling you about. She jumped out the window when I tried to
approach her. Remember?” Wasn't he listening to me at all?

James thinks for a moment and then suddenly sits up excitedly with a grin.

“A little girl, you say? Did she have curly black hair, looked about seven, and was about this
high.” He raises his hand, illustrating the child's height.

“Yes!” I nod enthusiastically. So I'm not crazy, James saw her too. Hang on a second, the
little girl looked awfully similar to James and his Mom. Oh wow, I am so stupid, all this time
it's been right in front of my face. I could hit myself for being so dumb.

“Why didn't you tell me that you had a little sister!?” I exclaim.

“Because I don't have one!” James replies, laughing.

“Oh.” Well, that puts a damper on things. Mystery unsolved but Detective Lily will not give
up!

“Er, she was your cousin?” I try again.

“Nope.”

“Second cousin?”

“Nope.”

I'm getting discouraged.

“Third?”

James shakes his head.

“Neighbor? Niece? Friend of family? Long lost adopted relative? Daughter?”

“No, no, no, no - WHAT?!” James shouts, his eyes widening.

“I'll take that as a no,” I say, crossing something out with an imaginary pen on an
imaginary clip board.

“Lily, I'm sixteen!” James exclaims, gaping at me.

“Hey, with your reputation, one can never be too sure.” I smirk, muffling a laugh.

Apparently, James doesn't find it nearly as funny as I do. In fact he looks as if he's
just fallen off of his broomstick and sustained life threatening injuries. Wouldn't that be
awful? Just the thought, threatens to send me into a fit of giggles.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asks softly, in a hurt voice.

Tactfully, I avoid answering this question, forcing a laugh.

“Oh, cheer up James! I was just kidding about the kid.” I punch him playfully, and he seems to
lighten up…a little bit.

Oh well, not my problem. He's the one that went out and dated just about every girl in the
school and then had the audacity to ask me, of all people, out on a date, not once, but several
times in front of people. I don't regret what I said. It's about time he wakes up to
reality and realizes how people really see him. At least that's how the sane people view him, a
select list which includes myself, Grace, and well, myself. There are others but I can't
remember their names at the moment.

Moving on…

“If she's not your illegitimate child, then who is she?” I ask, looking at anything but
James.

“She's probably just a figment of your imagination,” he snaps.

“Ah, so we're both suffering from hallucinations now?” I chuckle.

James grunts in reply. He's really mad about this whole daughter thing. It's kind of
ironic that he's one of the infamous Marauders and yet he can't take a joke, but then
again, perhaps I didn't intend for it to be one.

“You did see her, right?”

Another grunt. Wow, Potter's bilingual. I'm impressed. In Troll, I think that means yes
or was it no? It's a shame that I can't comprehend Troll.

“I'm pretty sure I wasn't dreaming, unless of course we had the same dream, which would
be highly unlikely and a little scary,” I babble on and James grunts during the pauses. After
awhile it starts to get on my nerves.

“James,” I sigh.

*Grunt*.

“For Merlin's sake! Quit sulking!” I explode, frustrated with the lack of response on the
other end, or rather, the lack of coherent replies.

“I'm not sulking!” he insists.

“Sure, you aren't,” I snort.

“I'm not!”

“Whatever you say James,” I sigh again, giving up.

Minutes pass by and Potter continues to sulk, but I'm patient, most of the time. I lean back
against the side of the house, looking up at the stars. It's a nice night for star gazing, a
full moon, no clouds, warm air, and a cool breeze. If I was at home, I might've gone into my
backyard and laid on my back in the grass.

“Do you like looking at the stars?” James asks, suddenly. I turn to look at him, only slightly
surprised to find him staring openly at me.

“Sometimes,” I whisper, glancing back up at the sky.

Immediately, I'm lost in a whirlwind of memories. I remember when I was a little girl, on
warm clear summer nights my Dad would take me outside and teach me the names of the constellations.
All those nights with Dad paid off when I arrived and Hogwarts and discovered that Astronomy was
one of our main subjects. Many a night I recall sitting by the window, looking at the stars and
missing Dad and Mom. Thinking about my parents, makes me think of Gracie and Mark, Hope and Chris,
so I try to get my mind off of it.

But when I look back again, he's gone.

“James?”

Fearfully, I clamber to the edge of the roof where he had once been sitting, but a hand grabs me
from behind. Spinning, I find James clinging to the edge of the roof holding a hand out to me.

“I want to show you something,” he whispers. Then his head disappears from view.

I peek over the edge and notice a vine growing up the side of the house. James is already on his
feet in the grass down below. He beckons for me to follow his lead, gesturing to the vine as if
I'm an idiot.

“Do you want me to come up there and help you?” he calls, noticing my hesitation.

“No, I may be a girl James, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm helpless,” I answer,
haughtily.

“I didn't mean it that way, I just meant-” James breaks off in a sigh, and I'm happy to
say that I climbed down that vine faster than a monkey with no problem at all. I had my eyes
screwed shut the whole time, and I think I could have easily jumped off the roof and made it safely
to the ground, but that's beside the point, I was very proud of myself.

“So, what did you want to show me?” I ask, regaining my composure and brushing myself off.

“Come with me.” James takes me by the hand and leads me into the woods.

What am I thinking, going with Potter into the woods? To be honest with you, I think I
temporarily misplaced my brain. Everything's so mixed up, it's like I'm still walking
in a bad dream.

“Is it far?” I ask nervously, glancing back in the direction of the rapidly disappearing
house.

“Why, are you scared?” James teases with a mischievous grin.

“No!” I protest. Should I be scared?

James chuckles and tugs on my hand, pulling me deeper into the forest.

If he tries to rape me, I swear I'm going to scream loud enough for the whole universe to
hear me. James Potter will not, I repeat, will not, live to see the light of day if he tries to
even breathe on me. I untangle my fingers from his and slip my hand into my pocket. I discover to
my relief that my wand's still there.

“Relax, Evans,” James chuckles.

“I am!” I say a little too quickly, betraying a tremor of anxiety in my voice. He must've
noticed because suddenly he stops me in my tracks.

“Don't you trust me?” he asks, softly.

“I don't know,” I admit, pressing my hand against a tall oak tree.

His hand reaches up, brushing something off of my shoulder. I look up at him, and notice that
the sad, injured expression has never left his face. He's coming closer to me, his fingers
tucking a strand of hair behind my ears.

“Lily, you know I would never hurt you,” he whispers in my ear.

The look in his eyes is so intense, that I'm hypnotized. I hesitate too long and suddenly
Potter's leaning in. No, I can see exactly where this is going and I am going to personally
make sure that it won't happen.

Taking an unsteady step backwards, I clumsily fall back against the tree. A twig snaps, and I
notice his face suddenly inches away from mind. His hand rests on the tree, just above my left
shoulder. I look down at the ground, afraid that if I look in his eyes something out of my control
might just happen.

I can't breathe because he's so damn close to me. What is wrong with this guy? Can't
he take a hint? I only want him to get away from me, so I can exhale and find out why I'm so
dizzy all of a sudden. Get away from me Potter, you're invading my space! My tongue's
stuck. Frantically, I search for words, but my brain has temporarily gone into snail mode.

“Is that what you tell every girl?” I laugh darkly, when I finally manage to think of something
to say. A sharp intake of breath and his hand leaves my shoulder. I exhale, the dizziness
subsiding. Finally, I lift my eyes, daring to look at him. He's standing a few feet away from
me with his back to me.

Oddly enough, I feel sympathetic toward Potter. Huh? Wait, are we thinking about the same Potter
here? This is the same guy that hung Severus Snape upside down from his underwear and dated half
the females in the Wizarding World. Get real Lily! But still, he just lost some of his closest
relatives, he's not himself!

“James,” I feel compelled to speak. Hesitantly, I take a step toward him. He hears me
approaching but he doesn't turn, instead his head lifts as if he's looking up at the
stars.

“You're not just any girl, Lily Evans,” he breathes.

I freeze.

Why of all the eligible bachelors in the universe does it have to be Potter that says all these
things to me? If it was any other guy, I would've melted. But because it's coming from
Potter, the guy that spits out these lines as if they're a hello or a goodbye, they're
meaningless.

“You're right Potter, I'm not just any girl. I actually have a brain,” I retort.

James wheels around.

“That's not what I meant,” he continues in that pitiful, injured tone that's starting to
drive me crazy. I suppose he thinks he can get any girl he wants by doing this. Obviously, he
doesn't realize that it won't work that way when a girl actually has a brain.

“But it's the truth, isn't it?” I ask, harshly.

He doesn't reply. Instead he looks at the ground. I roll my eyes. He's so pathetic. How
can anyone actually believe a single word that pops out of his mouth when he's acting as if the
world's about to end and we're the very last female and male on earth?

“I've never met anyone like you,” he continues, dramatically.

Girls fall for this? Oh, my sweet Merlin, I think I'm going to die if I have to hold this
laughter in any longer. I swear James has been watching - no, studying - plotless muggle chick
flicks for hours on end. There's no way he could get this good without help.

“It's just that you're so smart and beautiful-”

I can't take it anymore! If he doesn't cut this out I'm going to break a rib.

“Save it!” I interrupt, fighting back a laugh.

“But Lily-”

“Please, James. Don't waste your time unless your intention was to make me die laughing,” I
laugh.

James reluctantly closes his mouth with a heavy, dramatic sigh. He lowers his head, shoving his
hands into his pocket.

“Fine,” he sulks.

Sulky Potter stomps into the woods, leaving me behind. The house is in the other direction. He
can't honestly think that after he just tried to kiss me and gave me the speech - which I'm
proud to say I am completely immune to, even if we were in the woods after his whole extended
family was massacred - that I'm actually going to follow him.

“Potter!” I call.

Potter ignores me and continues to walk deeper into the woods. Now I'm starting to lose
sight of him. A quick glance back tells me that I will get lost if I try to find my way back.

I hate Potter.

“Potter! Wait up!” I shout, scrambling to follow him. This better be good.

I fall into step beside him. James keeps glancing at me when he thinks I'm not looking.
Maybe it's my eyes, but I could have sworn that was a smirk on his face. What nerve! If
he's stupid enough to pull something like that again, the Potter lineage is going to come to an
immediate end. Apparently, he understands this. Maybe it's because I'm glaring daggers at
him, because he doesn't try anything else, at least not right away.

But we keep walking and walking, and I'm beginning to wonder what Potter's real
intentions are. After that little stunt back there, I'm starting to question whether this boy
has any morals whatsoever.

I'm almost ready to demand him to take me back, when he abruptly stops. Warily, I watch as
he pulls back several branches and then motions me to follow him. I follow, despite my better
judgment, and find myself at the edge of an open field.

“Wow!” I breathe.

I walk forward, leaving the woods and James behind. The velvety sky looks so big out here in the
open. A full moon's high up in the sky now, starting to retreat in the opposite direction.
It's just one of those nights where everything's so bright that you want to stay out all
night. And the stars, I tilt my head back and look at them twinkling above me. I swear if I lifted
my arm, my finger tips would brush one or two of them.

I look for James and notice that he's already settled himself some distance ahead. He's
spread out on his back with his arms folded comfortably behind his head. I can't help but smile
as I approach.

“Do you like looking at the stars?” I tease as I sit down beside him.

I'm in a much better mood now that I know there actually was a place he had in mind. And out
here, isolated from the rest of the world, both muggle and magical, I feel like we can forget about
everything and leave it all behind.

After making sure that Potter's at least an arm's length away from me, I make myself
comfortable in the grass beside him. He doesn't say anything, but I think he's smiling as
he watches the stars.

The minutes pass in a pleasant silence only broken by the distant call of an owl or the cracking
of twigs as a nocturnal animal prowls through the distant woods in search of its evening meal.
Everything's so peaceful that even my thoughts have come to a standstill.

Now I am relaxed.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask James, out of the blue.

“You,” he teases.

I slap his arm and he rewards me with a half hearted grin. At least he's not sulking
anymore.

“Come on James, at least pretend to be serious,” I beg.

“I'm James, not Sirius,” he jokes.

I roll my eyes. That joke is so old.

“No, really, what are you thinking about?” I ask him, staring up the stars.

A full minute goes by before he replies.

“Nothing,” he sighs.

After a full minute pause, that's all he has to say, *nothing*? I'm not buying
it.

“You're terrible at lying,” I laugh.

“What makes you think I'm lying?” James asks.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe it was the heavy sigh, or the minute that it took you to come up
with that unbelievable answer.”

“Darn, you caught me,” James says, unenthusiastically snapping his fingers.

He's quiet. When I realize he's not going to answer me, I tear my eyes away from the
beautiful scene above me and face my long time tormentor. His silence has only intrigued me.

“Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about or do I have to pry it out of you?” I
ask, poking him.

“You actually care what I think?” James looks at me with an amused smile.

“Yes. Surprisingly, I do,” I admit, playing with a strand of grass. There was a reason why I
wasn't placed in Ravenclaw with the book worms and instead got stuck in Gryffindor with a clown
like Potter. It's the one thing that I grudgingly admit we do have in common and that's
curiosity.

“Uncle Harry,” he blurts out suddenly.

“Excuse me?” I ask, wondering if my ears have deceived me.

“I was thinking about Uncle Harry,” he repeats.

“Your uncle, I slept in your uncle's bed?!” That's just even worse. Oh, god. Merlin, I
feel so awful now. And then his poor kid comes wandering into the room looking for him and wonders
what I'm doing there.

“It *was* his bed,” James corrects me.

“Was, as in…” I trail off wondering if I only imagined hearing the past tense.

“He's been dead for almost twenty years.”

“You're joking!” But he's not. My jaw drops like an anchor.

James shakes his head and I close my mouth. That explains why the room was shut up. No wonder
James felt the need to investigate when he heard me speaking to the little girl. After being dead
for twenty years that room should've been as silent as a tomb. Hold on a second, that
doesn't make any sense. I gasp and sit up.

“He can't be dead, that little girl came into the room looking for him. Why would she be
searching for a guy that's been dead longer than she's been in existence?” I ask, crushing
a fistful of grass between my hands.

“Maybe you dreamed it?” James suggests hesitantly, as if he thinks I'm making it up.

“You saw her too!” I snap, letting the grass fall from my hands and onto his face.

“I did not-” James breaks off spluttering and sits up. “Blah!” He spits out the grass that I
dropped into his mouth, while his eyes were closed, and wipes the remaining greens off of his face.
“What'd you do that for? What? I didn't see her - Oh, *that* girl,” he says softly,
realizing his mistake.

“Who'd you think I was talking about?” I roll my eyes. He can be so thick at times.

“I don't know,” James shrugs.

“Who is she?” I ask curiously, remembering how we got out here in the first place.

“I don't know,” he repeats with another shrug.

“Don't play games with me.” I shove him, sending his head and shoulders back into the
grass.

“I'm not!” James protests. “I've never met the girl in my life.” He struggles to sit up,
but I push him back down again. How am I supposed to find out anything when I can't get a
single honest word out of him?

“Honestly, this was the first time I saw her, Lily!” With a frustrated sigh he seizes my arm and
drags me down into the grass beside him. I scowl and tug at my arm, but James refuses to let
go.

“Listen to me!” he pleads, yanking on my arm and pulling me closer. I sigh heavily but resign
myself to hear whatever bull crap story he has to tell me. “I don't know who she is. I heard
someone crying and then I saw her wandering the halls, that's why I went to Uncle Harry's
room in the first place.”

I have to believe him, even though it destroys every explanation I had for this incident.

“But then why was she looking for him? You didn't even know that was his room and you've
been living in that house for sixteen years!” I frown.

“I don't know. At least she talked to you. I couldn't even catch up with her.” He
releases my arm but I remain where I am lost in thought.

This just keeps getting weirder. I thought that the transition between the primary school and
Hogwarts was hard, but this, this is getting a little too complex for me. And I'm usually the
logical one!

It doesn't make sense, how would a strange child know that it was Harry's room? Why was
she calling for a man that she had never met and probably never even heard of? She was barely six
and the man died twenty years ago, it doesn't help that James can't identify her as a
relative or even a friend of the family.

How can this be? Was it all a dream? There has to be a solution to this mystery…

“Hey, Lily,” James says suddenly, rolling over to face me.

“What?” I ask, irritably.

“Maybe she's a ghost.”

If someone said that to me six years ago, I probably would've been committed to a mental
institution for even considering this option. Here in the magical world, things work a little
differently. Ghosts are in plain sight and there's a whole community of them living at
Hogwarts.

He might be right. But…

“She looked so solid and she wasn't transparent! Her hair was black and I remember that her
eyes were brown. And she had a black and blue on her face and bloody gashes on her chest and
shoulder! Ghosts don't have color, and ghosts don't bleed or bruise,” I argue.

“What about the Bloody Baron?” James grins.

“It's not the same, you know what I meant. She couldn't have been a ghost, she was
solid,” I continue, but James again sends me on the defensive.

“Are you sure? Did you actually touch her?” he asks, shrewdly.

I stop.

“No! But, oh, never mind! What's the use!?” I groan and let myself fall backwards into the
soft grass. My head hurts, probably because I've received so much information today that
it's about to explode. I hear James chuckle softly and lie down beside me.

“You know you look cute when you're frustrated.”

“Please don't start!” Potter with his cheap pick up lines and meaningless compliments is the
very last thing I need right now. No wonder why I have a headache, I've been with this annoying
jerk for over twelve hours.

“You're right though, she's not a ghost,” he adds thoughtfully. “She cast a shadow in
the hall. I don't think ghosts can do that.”

“They can't,” I murmur in agreement.

“Hey, I've got it!” James says, propping himself up on his elbow. “She's a
poltergeist.”

I turn and stare at him. All I can think of is Peeves, the resident poltergeist at Hogwarts and
a nasty little bugger who's worse than all four of the Maruaders combined. I have difficulty
believing that a terrified child is a poltergeist. James mouth twitches. He's probably thinking
the same thing.

“Scratch that, I don't think they cast shadows either.” He surrenders, sinking back down
into the grass.

Now, we're right back where we started.

“I think it's too late for thinking,” I sigh, closing my eyes and savoring the peace and
quiet.

“You mean it's too early, it's past one,” James corrects me.

“Whatever it is, I'm tired.”

“Okay, I'll shut up,” James yawns and rolls over.

It's so comfortable out here that I could easily fall asleep. The hours with Potter are
really starting to take a toll on me. Unfortunately, now that James has finally left me alone and
I've resigned myself to a nap, I'm not tired at all. In fact, I'm wide awake.

“James,” I whisper, sitting up.

James pretends to snore, how mature. I shake him and he opens his eyes with a snort and a fake
yawn.

“I thought you were tired,” he says instantly awake, confirming my suspicions.

“I was, but now I want to talk to you,” I admit, guiltily.

“Oh, so now you want to talk, at one in the morning when I'm asleep.” He smirks, rubbing his
eyes.

“You weren't sleeping,” I retort.

“How do you know?” James asks, defensively.

“I'm psychic,” I lie.

“Really?” James's eyes light up.

“No.”

“Darn, it would've made everything a lot easier if you could read my thoughts.”

Privately, I agree, but then again, why would I want to read Potter's thoughts? I shudder
inwardly, hoping that this will never happen.

“So, what'd you want to talk about?” James asks slowly, looking over at me.

“Um, well, erm, it's really none of my business but I wanted to know how, how -” I feel
awkward asking this. I have no right to ask, but it's the stupid Gryffindor curiosity thing
again.

“Just say it Lily.”

“How - how'd your uncle die?” I blurt out.

James looks away and is quiet for a long time. I duck my head trying to hide the embarrassed
blush that comes so easily to red heads.

"You don't have to answer. I don't know why I asked that dumb question, it was stupid
of me," I stammer, regretting that I had asked such an idiotic personal question.

"He was murdered," James finally answers quietly.

A chill runs the length of my spine and it has nothing to do with the breeze. Why didn't
someone tell me all this before? Perhaps then, the murder of Gracie's family wouldn't have
come as such a shock. I look around the peaceful meadow, suddenly wary, no longer feeling peaceful
or safe. The Wizarding World was always somewhat of a fairytale, a fantasy, a dream that I thought
I was going to wake up from. But bit by bit, the superficial glitter is being peeled away,
revealing a world as flawed and cruel as the muggle world I was born into.

“Nothing's perfect,” I mutter under my breath.

“I disagree,” James murmurs, staring directly at me. “You Lily Evans are perfect.” He reaches
out to me, his eyes locked with mine.

“Shut it Potter,” I grumble, swatting his hand away. He must study books with pick up lines in
his spare time.

“Oh, come on Evans. You're beautiful, you're smart, you're brave, you're kind,
you're popular-”

“I said shut up!” I shout.

James stops talking instantly. Apparently, the words came out a little louder than I intended.
They seem to echo in the meadow, resounding in my mind.

“But you are,” James echoes quietly.

“I'm not,” I snap.

“Everyone thinks you are.”

Me? Lily Evans? Perfect? What planet do you live on Potter? I know he thinks that he's some
kind of sex god and he's desperate to have everyone kiss his feet, but really, he's sinking
to an all time low with these “perfect” lies. How can a girl actually swallow this bull crap?

“What did I say Potter?” I ask in a cold voice.

“You're afraid to hear the truth,” James says, his voice rising to match my own. “You refuse
to see it Lily, but you're something better than all the other girls-”

“Please, stop it,” I beg. I don't want to fight with him, not tonight. I'm too tired and
both of us are going to be stuck in this house for the next few days. With an emotionless, serious,
Sirius Black, and a broken, raging, revengeful Grace Adams, I'm going to need James to help me
keep them in check, and alive for that matter.

“Okay,” he says quietly with a nod, but I notice that his jaw is clenched.

“Can you take me back?” I ask, but it's more of a command. I'm still mad, and I
don't understand why. It was just one of his lousy compliments, why should I get so upset over
it?

“Okay,” he repeats.

But we don't go back. I lay down, placing a hand to my aching head and closing my eyes. The
peaceful sounds of the night blend together like a soothing lullaby. Combined with the soft bed of
grass, and the faint smell of James's cologne, I'm overwhelmed by a feeling of
drowsiness.

“Sweet dreams,” a voice breathes in my ear and I feel a warm hand brush back my hair.

I'm too tired to open my eyes or even lift my arm to hit him.

“I'm falling, I don't know why or when it started but I think I'm falling-”

The whispering voice in my ear fades and I let the tide sweep me into the shores of sleep.

A/N: Hello again, thanks so much to everyone that took the time to review. The next chapters
should be up soon! Please tell me what you think!

-->



8. The Mourning Light
---------------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *JK Rowling is the best, end of story*

**Chapter 7: The Mourning Light**

When I wake up, everything's green. With a blink, the green light disappears and I realize
that it was only a part of my dream. I can't remember what I was dreaming about, but I suspect
that it was the same as always. You know that dream where you die and there's a funny green
light everywhere, and people are screaming. Oh yeah that's right, sane people don't dream
about their death on a regular basis. But apparently, I, Lily Evans do.

Yawning, I open my eyes and look around. I'm still in the middle of the meadow, and it's
still dark. I must've slept for only a couple of hours. I roll over, intent on going back to
sleep so I don't look like death in the morning, but I realize that something's
missing.

Where's James? I sit up startled, and suddenly very afraid. It's one thing to be with
James Potter in the middle of a peaceful meadow, it's another thing to be by yourself.

“James?” I call. My eyes frantically search for the messy haired teenager, but find nothing but
grass. I jump to my feet, and instantly spot the idiot with his back to me, sitting on the other
side of a slight hill. I start to breathe and my heart starts beating again. What a cruel trick! I
hate him!

His head jerks up as I reach him. One look at his startled expression and his slightly red eyes
and instantly any harsh words, or cruel feelings that I might've harbored are swallowed and
pushed to the very back of my mind. James quickly looks away, and I pause wondering if maybe I
should turn around and leave him alone.

He hides his face from view, and hesitantly I start to slip away.

“No, wait!”

I stop and look down at him. I'm struck by how sad and alone he seems, sitting there on the
ground with his hazel eyes looking imploringly into my own. He struggles with his pride, trying to
form the silent plea that's emblazoned in his eyes.

*Stay*.

My hand brushes over his shoulder as I wordlessly sit down beside him. He doesn't say
anything but he doesn't have too. I know just by the look in his eyes that he's grateful
for the mere presence of another human being.

And so am I, because I don't want to be alone either.

It's colder now, the wind must have switched while I was sleeping. I pull my knees to my
chest and wrap my arms around them. I can feel James looking at me out of the corner, but when I
turn my head he pretends to be absorbed by the horizon. I stare at him, waiting for him to ask or
say whatever it is that he's burning to talk about. Once again his eyes meet mine, and a
pinkish tinge slides across his cheeks when he realizes that I've caught him staring.

“What is it?” I ask, wondering if the pink cheeks were just a trick of the fading moonlight.

“What did they do to you, before I showed up at your house?” His question is so abrupt, so out
of the blue that it throws me off course. Of course I know exactly what he's talking about, and
I know that we promised we'd swap stories but it seemed ages ago, and out here, it seemed like
the real world was so far away.

I collect myself and recall the creaking floor boards, and the heart pounding realization that
followed. The memory comes easily, and I can't resist telling James how I brought down Serial
Killer #2 and gave Serial Killer #1 hopefully something he'd remember.

“That's my girl,” James murmurs, his chest swelling with pride. He grins and slaps me on the
back, and I laugh it off.

Then I explain how Serial Killer #1 apparated, and came up from behind and tried to strangle me.
Slowly the life drained out of my body, and I lost consciousness as his hands closed around my
neck.

“That's when I woke up and found out I was alive, and you had just dumped a vase of water on
me.” I laugh, and turn to James. But there's no laughter in his eyes and his smile is forced.
His eyes burn with a strange intensity and his face hardens.

“What's wrong?” I ask, frowning.

He blinks, and looks at me as if I have nine different heads.

“What's wrong? A lot of things are wrong Lily. They shouldn't have hurt you and they
shouldn't have showed up at your house in the first place,” he says, angrily.

“You're right James, but Gracie's family shouldn't have died either,” I reply,
softly.

“Yes, I mean no,” he stutters, recovering too quickly.

My eyes widen, what is he talking about?

“Look Lily, my Aunt and Uncle, they shouldn't have died, but they worked for the Ministry,”
he sighs, trying to explain something that I can't understand.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask.

“It has everything to do with it,” James answers, softly.

He begins to say something, but stops with a shake of his head. I know I won't understand.
Not yet. There's something big going on that started over the summer, something that's too
complex for me to learn about in a single night. James and Grace will tell me in due time, but
right now, I don't think I'm ready.

“But that's not the point,” James continues. “The point is, those filthy, slimy bastard
shouldn't have laid a hand on you.” He clenches his fists, and I realize that it's anger
that's flooded his handsome features. It's consumed him, shining in his eyes like the
flames of the burner. I'm afraid, because I've never seen him like this before. Sure he
gets mad at Snape or a particularly annoying Slytherin every once in a while, but never like
this.

I watch him intently, holding my breath. He's smoldering like hot coals ready to take flame
with the slightest breath of air and unleash his wrath upon the world. It surprises me when he
starts speaking quietly. Every word quivers with restrained anger

“When I went back to your house, that - that - thing was standing there with his hand wrapped
around your delicate neck. He was practically wetting himself, he was so excited. I wanted to rip
him off of you, but he had a wand to your head. And then there was that worthless Ministry
Official, Kenny, uselessly staring at both of you, and not doing a single thing about it. I stunned
your Killer, and immediately went to you.” James pauses here, his eyes blazing

“I thought I was too late. You were blue, and there was this bruise where his hand had been.
When I felt for a pulse, I wasn't sure if you - I didn't know if you had…” He inhales
sharply. “And then that Ministry klutz, he goes and wakes up the other wanna-be Dementor. And you
know what he does? He went straight for your Killer, grabbed him and left with a pop. After all
they'd done to you, and probably done to Gracie's family, THEY ESCAPE ALIVE!” he raises his
voice to an angry roar, allowing it to catch the breeze and run off into the night. His words
remain in my mind though, lingering with the flashes of yesterday's events. A raw wound still
bleeds within.

I move toward him, no longer fearing his wrath, now that I know the cause of it. He stiffens,
but I'm not afraid of him. Boldly, I lay my hand on his back. The muscles are knotted and tense
but they quickly unravel beneath my gentle, careful fingertips. My arm travels upward, barely
making it around his broad quidditch improved shoulders, so I scoot closer. I can see his hazel
eyes, the fire slowly dying. But even though my arm rests around his shoulders, he still clings to
some of the anger, still fights a part of my presence.

“It's not fair,” he growls.

“It's not,” I agree, softly.

“Chris, he was only twelve and my aunt and uncle were two of the greatest-” He stops himself
before he risks breaking down. I can hear him taking quick, sharp breaths beside me.

I squeeze his shoulder, and gently rest my head on his chest. There are about a hundred things
that I could tell him…

But I don't say anything at all.

“Lily?”

I open my eyes and look up into James Potter's face. Funny, I don't remember closing my
eyes. The sleep fiend must've crept up on me again. That usually happens when you go without
sleep for a long period of time.

Hang on, I'm looking up at James, and this definitely isn't the grass. I'm not
complaining though, because I'm very comfortable. Wait, oh my god! My head's resting on
James Potter's knee!

The blood rushes to my face and I sit up. I miss hitting James's face by less than a
millimeter. How embarrassing, how disgusting! I was practically lying in Potter's lap!

“Er sorry, I must've dozed off,” I stammer. Maybe in the dark, my blushing scarlet face will
camouflage with my ruby hair and James won't notice how mortifying that was for me. I don't
think I'm related to chameleons, though horses and cows ( Have you met my sister? ) now
that's a whole different story. I hold my breath hoping that if I just stay still, like this,
I'll just blur into a red blob, and sink into a hole in the ground.

“Yeah, you did,” James says slowly, and I notice a sparkle in his eyes that might be
mischief.

Oh Merlin, if he teases me or says anything about that… position… we were in, I will kick myself
for falling asleep so carelessly and then I will kick James in a place he won't like if he
pursues the topic.

“How long was I in your- I mean how long was I asleep?” I stutter.

“Not long.” A shadow of a grin crosses his face.

My face burns. Why can't I be a chameleon? Why can't I apparate?

“I didn't want to wake you,” he adds, ducking his head. He's probably trying to hide
that infamous devilish smirk.

I'm sure you didn't, Potter. It's not every day, even for an alleged “ladies man”
like Potter, that a girl happens to fall asleep in your lap.

Pervert.

It's not like he had a choice though, I did fall asleep, and I probably fell into his lap. I
chew on my lip and decide to forgive and forget about it, just this once. Whoa, I seem to be
letting Potter slide a lot lately, this seems to be about the hundredth chance I've given him
today. If I keep this up, next thing you know I'm going to be dating him. Now, wouldn't
that be a laugh! Ha, that's not going to happen, ever.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks.

“No,” I reply, automatically.

We look at each other and I see that he feels the same. As much as I despise Potter's
company, I have to admit he knows where the best sanctuaries are. Right now, I'd take another
couple of days of Potter's company out here, rather than going back there and facing Gracie and
the upcoming funeral. Okay, maybe not a couple of days. I think that's stretching it, but I
could definitely stay here for a few more hours of sleep.

But alas, reality calls.

The stars are fading and the sky's gone grey. Dawn creeps toward us as the world around us
awakes and transforms in the early morning light.

I look at James and James looks at me.

“Come on,” I sigh. “We don't want your mother knowing that we slept together,” I catch
myself too late and James cracks up laughing.

I slap my forehead, wondering why I'm such a fool. We get to our feet and James turns to me
with a seductive smile.

“Don't worry about it, she trusts us, and she said that as long as we weren't in the
same room…” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

I hit him. He roars with laughter and I can see that it made no impression on him whatsoever. It
is kind of funny, come to think of it…

I can't help it, I start to giggle.

Damn Potter, he's making me laugh! This is not supposed to be funny! People might assume
that we actually did sleep together, which in the literal sense we did but it's definitely not
what everyone else is thinking!

Ah, what's the use, as that old saying goes “if you can't fight them, join them”.

And so I laugh and run to catch up with James.

Five minutes later the Potter household comes into view. (Either that just went by really fast,
or Potter took the long way to his little sanctuary when he tried to have his way with me a few
hours ago by the oak tree. I expect it was a little manipulation on Potter's part.)

“That was fast,” I say, almost regretfully.

We slow our footsteps, unwilling to leave the safety of the woods. But the house grows larger
and I can now see James a little more clearly in the grey light. I want to get back in my bed
before anyone sees us and suspects that James and I, well, you know…It's ridiculous of course,
but James's mother seems to have this insane idea that we're seeing each other and even,
sleeping together.

“I better go in first,” I sigh, surrendering myself to the dawn.

“We'll go together. I don't want you getting lost again,” James says, and I don't
have the heart to protest after what happened with the floo powder.

We walk to a side door of the house. Unfortunately, the door's locked. James doesn't
want to risk the back door which is right below the room his parents sleep in, or the front door
which supposedly squeaks when you open it from the outside. What's the point of having three
doors if you can't use any of them?

“We'll have to break in,” he whispers, walking to the back of the house.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

Did he just say that we were going to break into his house? There's a reason why I was
placed in Gryffindor and not Ravenclaw, but really, I'm not a Marauder and I have my limits. I
say we just camp outside and then return one at a time, no one would suspect a thing, but Potter
has to make everything complicated and lives to break every rule that exists.

“Relax, Lily! We're just going through the bathroom window.” He gestures to a first floor
window not too far off the ground. The window's fine, it's what's underneath it that
makes me balk.

“You want me to climb in there?” I point to the mutated thorn bush underneath the window.
Perhaps it was a rose bush at one time, but the thorns have to be at least six inches in length and
seem to think that they're vines.

“Oh, sorry about that, Mom went through a gardening phase. It didn't quite work out and Dad
was never able to get rid of this one,” James chuckles as if this is perfectly normal.

“It's perfectly safe, I came in this way loads of times.” I don't doubt it. “And I never
fell in.” He pauses, rethinking this. “Though there was that one time when Sirius slipped, but we
got him out eventually and the pain only lasted a week. And then there was that time when Peter
jumped in. He wasn't so lucky. I think he still has scars…” James trails off, nervously
shooting me a look.

“On second thought, why don't we try a different route?” he suggests, cheerfully heading for
the back of the house.

I stop in my tracks when I see the shaky vine stretching up to a second floor roof that's
set back and the third floor window that I jumped from.

“I have an idea.” James grins and our eyes lock.

Oh, no, not this again.

First, I had to go down the vine, and now, I have to try to climb up it?

“We can try a different way if you want.” James smirks, and I shove past him in my haste to get
to the vine.

I'll show him…

Okay, so it took me five minutes and James took less than five seconds (show off!), but
that's beside the point.

James climbs in through the open window after me and shuts it, and suddenly we're back in
Harry's bedroom. It's just the same as I left it, though both of us act as if it's a
tomb and the mysterious little girl might materialize at any moment before us. I shiver, glad that
James is with me for once. Quickly, I gather up the things off the bedside table and shove them
back into my pocket.

“It's a shame we don't have time to look around,” James whispers, sending a final
wistful look at the room before he closes the door behind us.

“Maybe some other time,” I suggest hopefully, but I hear the lock click and I know that it
won't be opening again anytime soon.

“Come on, I'll show you where *your* room is,” James says, taking me unnecessarily by
the arm.

“I know where it is. You don't have to show me. I just got mixed up.” I try to pull my arm
free, but James is unwilling to let go.

“I don't blame you Evans for not listening-” James continues with a smug smile.

“I was listening!” I protest, tugging at my arm again which only brings James closer to me.

“You were obviously distracted by thoughts of an attractive, intelligent, handsome, quidditch
playing, sixth year Gryffindor who happens to be in this hallway at this very moment and who's
Hogsmeade offer still stands.” He smirks.

I roll my eyes. Okay Narcissus. Now I remember why Potter was at the top of my Hit List.
It's a shame I was actually beginning to wonder if perhaps there was another more pleasant side
to Potter.

“Really Sirius, is here?” I quip, pretending to search for the attractive, intelligent,
obviously self-centered jerk, who's Potter of course. But I like to pull his leg.

“I was talking about me,” he informs me, as if I didn't catch that.

“I know James, I was hoping that no one would be so self centered to say those kind of things
about themselves.”

“Shhh, do you want someone to hear us?” James admonishes me, making a shushing noise and
pressing a finger to his mouth. The truth hurts and he's avoiding the subject.

“Let go of me!” I hiss.

“Now, now, Evans, play nice.”

Jerk. I yank my arm free, shoving James (unintentionally of course) into the wall.

“Hey there's no need to be rough - YOWCH!” He breaks off in a yowl, which suddenly changes
into a low menacing growl.

“James!” I gasp.

“That wasn't me,” James replies softly, his eyes widening.

“Then who - what -?”

As if in answer, a second growl fills the hallways and a black shape rises in the shadows before
us. I yelp, and grab James, who pulls me back against the wall. Two eyes glitter in the darkness
and I glimpse a set of sharp pearly white teeth as a jaw snaps.

A monster! After narrowly escaping two evil looking Serial Killers, James and I are about to
become the breakfast of the Potter's pet monster. James whips out his wand and illuminates the
hallway revealing our…erm…Well, it certainly sounded like a monster.

The big black dog stops growling and stares at us as if we're two of the biggest idiots
he's ever met.

We probably are, or at least I am. Potter's arm looks suspiciously purple, and I realize
it's because my hand is still squeezing it like a stress ball. Embarrassed, I remove my arms
and fingers that have somehow wrapped themselves around various parts of his body, and step a good
three feet away from him. At least Potter's shaken up too… Or at least he was.

Now, he looks as if he's going to crack up laughing.

“That was not funny,” I say, glaring at him. “Don't you dare laugh!”

James shakes his head silently, just barely maintaining self control. Fine go ahead, laugh
yourself silly. See what I care. I look at the dog. He looks almost as tired and worn out as I am.
I imagine we gave him a fright, because by the looks of it he knows James.

“You never told me you had a dog.” I stretch my hand out, hoping that he's harmless. The dog
sniffs at my hand, dully acknowledging me with one wag of its tail.

“I don't,” James replies, squatting down beside me in front of the dog. “He's a stray.”
He grins and ruffles the dog's fur. The dog growls and snaps at his hand, but this only causes
James to laugh.

“Sorry, didn't mean to mess up your hair,” he chuckles.

The dog snarls at him, and then turns his back on us. I watch him trot off into the shadows,
wondering what a stray was doing in James's house.

“He comes and goes as he pleases. Sometimes I think he's a part of the family. Mom and Dad
love him, but boy can he eat. He can eat as much as Sirius.” James laughs again, and I wonder
what's so funny. Sirius Black can eat anything and everything. I don't know how anyone can
support that kid, or where it all goes because he doesn't have an inch of fat on him, and even
I have to admire him for that amazing feat.

“What's his name?” I ask casually as we start back to my real room.

“Sir - oh um, he doesn't have a name,” James mumbles.

“What?” This bothers me. How can he practically be a part of the family and not have a name?

“Why doesn't he have a name?”

James runs a hand through his hair like he always does when he's nervous or
uncomfortable.

“He's not a permanent resident of the household, so we never named him,” he replies with a
shrug. “What I don't understand is what he was doing up here…” Suddenly, his puzzled expression
gives way to a smirk. “You sly dog,” he remarks, glancing over his shoulder at something and
shaking his head.

“What?” I ask curiously.

“Nothing, I just remembered something,” James mutters.

My ears suddenly perk up.

“Say is this Gracie's room?” I ask, glancing at the room to the left where the door has been
left open a crack.

“Actually, yes, how'd you know?” James gives me a weird look.

“Only Gracie Adams snores like that.” I smile. After sleeping in the same room as her for the
past five years I know these things and could easily recognize the snores of any of the other girls
who share the dormitory with us except for Tiffany Crowley who claims she was born in the city that
never sleeps.

“Thank Merlin, she's sleeping,” I whisper, my heart going out to the girl. James nods in
agreement and slips inside the bedroom to check on his cousin. I wait for him outside, staring hard
at the ground. A trail of paw prints, and a few almost invisible black hairs make me wonder if
perhaps the dog had been sitting out here when we arrived.

“Let's go, the sun's almost up,” James says softly.

I linger by the doorway, peeking in at my best friend who is indeed still asleep and hopefully
blissfully unaware of the horrible nightmare that awaits her when she wakes.

“Sweet dreams Gracie,” I close the door silently behind me.

Two doors down, James stops again.

“This is your room,” he announces with a faint smile.

“You're sure it's not your deceased Aunt's?” I tease. Instantly, I regret the words
and slap a hand over my mouth.

“I'm sorry James,” I apologize, wondering why I'm such an idiot.

“Goodnight Lily,” James says softly, suddenly looking extremely tired.

“Goodnight James,” I whisper after him, watching as he walks away. Quietly, I close the door
behind me, and sit down on the bed. Outside the first rays of sunlight are peeking over the horizon
and the sky's a myriad of colors. Right now, though, I could care less about the new day
dawning. It still feels like I'm lost in a dark moonless night.

I pull down the shade, shutting the light out. Then I roll over and close my eyes.

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! I'd love to hear what you think! The next chapter is finished
and should be up** **soon.**

-->



9. The Funeral
--------------



**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 P**rophet* 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… *W**hen* 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!

-->



10. Saving Grace
----------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *I think my grammar explains everything, obviously I am not JK Rowling and
therefore own nothing.*

**WARNING***: This is a long chapter, so beware of someone addressed the fact that I opened
my story with Lily dreaming of her death. It is cliche. The beginning of this chapter contains
another seeming cliche as well so be warned. But I promise you that I have an original, perhaps
insane but still unique, way to tie this all together.*

**Chapter Nine: Saving Grace**

“*Harry?”*

*The name falls from my lips, fear lacing every syllabl**e. It sounds nothing like my own
voice. Instead* *it seems smaller, childish, higher and foreign. I'm clinging to a
blanket, Gryffindor red with tiny glittering snitches on it and I can't stop shaking.*

“*Harry?”*

*My heart speeds up, tears building up behind my eyes. I slide off the armchair, the same
armchair that Gracie had been sitting in the day of the funeral. Climbing the stairs, I notice a
pair of fluffy orange Chudley Cannon slippers that are entirely too big for my suddenly small
feet.*

“*Harry?”*

*I start running when I reach the third floor. The slippers are too big and after tripping
twice I leave them behind. Tears blind my vision and a mane of dark curling hair keeps falling in
my eyes. But I don't stop, not until I reach the door to Harry's room.*

“*Harry!”*

*I grab the handle, and open the door.*

*But I'm not in Harry's room, I'm in the Adam's household now. I recognize the
entrance immediately. There's Chris's sneakers and the quaffle that he was told t**o
put away a thousand times. A**nd* *there's* *Mark's muggle umbrella which he
bought as a joke and the welcome mat that used to talk until everyone thought they were going to go
mad, and someone* *finally* *disenchanted it.*

“*Hello?” My voice is now more mature and lower, but still sounding nothing like my
own.*

*Where is everyone? Why is it so quiet? The hair's on the back of my neck prickle as I
slide out of a pair of high heels and start to slowly make my way into the house. I pull my wand
from my pocket, suddenly getting a very bad feeling about this.*

“*Mark? Chris? Gracie?”*

*Someone calls my name in reply, but it**'**s distant and faint, barely audible.
I grasp the wand tightly, my knuckles turning white. Breaking into a cold sweat, I tiptoe toward
the kitchen door.*

*Merlin, tell me this isn't happening. Tell me the kitchen's empty, tell me I
won't find-”*

“*STUPEFY!”*

*I duck, and cast up a powerful shield that I never knew I could do. Something grabs me from
behind, lifting me to my feet. I watch my wand fall to the floor as if in slow motion. Someone
leans close to me, their horrid breath on my cheek.*

“*Hello**,* *Hope Adams.”*

*Then they throw me against the glass cabinet. I hear it shatter and then I feel the
pain.*

“OW!” My eyes snap open as pain courses through my body. The light floods my eyes and I
instantly close them. The only thing I remember was glass everywhere, the cabinet having shattered
and the pain, oh the pain was unbearable!

“Evans, what are you doing on the ground?”

“Huh?”

I open my eyes and look up at Potter. Only then do I notice that I'm lying on my back, on
the hardwood floor of the Potter's guest bedroom that I've been sleeping in for the past
week. The pain fades away as I realize that it was only a nightmare. Shakily, I sit up half
expecting to see shards of glass and fresh wounds.

Dazed and slightly confused, I allow James to help me back up onto the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, sitting down on the end of the bed beside me.

“I think so.” I glance down at my body, running a hand over my arms and chest feeling for the
invisible wounds that were so lifelike in my nightmare.

“What were you doing on the floor then?” he wonders, frowning.

“Um, I don't really know.” I scratch my head, wondering how I got from my bed to the floor.
“I had a nightmare and I must've fell out of bed or something,” I guess.

I look at him. He's fully dressed and he has his wand and a …

“Is that a baseball bat?” I ask, my eyes widening at the muggle object in his left hand.

“Oh, is that what the muggles call it?” James asks, looking at the baseball bat with renewed
curiosity.

“Yes, but what are you doing with one?”

“When I heard you scream and the bang, I grabbed the bat and came running. They're really
useful you know. Mum's ex-boyfriend gave her one when they were dating, years and years ago,
told her that all muggles have them and every wizard should have one on hand too. I don't know
what's so great about them though,” James says, holding it from the wrong end.

“That's because you're holding it wrong.” I patiently correct his hands so that
they're holding it properly, fully aware of how warm they are. “And to be honest with you
James, a baseball bat, though it can be used as a weapon, is primarily used to hit base balls in a
game called baseball.”

“What's baseball?”

I'm not in the mood to play Muggle Studies teacher right now.

“It's a muggle sport but it's not really popular over here. It's more of an American
thing.”

“Oh.” James notices that I'm not going to elaborate on this and gets up. “Didn't mean to
intrude but Mom reckoned that she heard someone walking around the house last night.”

“Did you explain to her who it was?” I ask, exasperatingly.

“I tried to, but she was a little distracted. She said that she'd been in Gracie's room
loads of time to check on her and not once did she come across a six year old girl with cuts all
over her,” James replies, going for the door.

“Oh, and by the way Lily.” He grins with a suggestive nod. “Nice pajamas.”

I blush looking down at my green pajamas covered with prancing stags. But I sit up straighter
with a confident smile and toss my hair that must look as if a bird made its nest in it.

“You're fan of stags too?” I tease.

“A huge fan,” James responds with a laugh and a wink as if there's something more to this
simple statement. He leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

You know it's funny, if something like this had happened last year or even last week I
probably would've reacted in two ways. A. I would've killed him or B. I would've died
of embarrassment then came back to life to haunt him for the rest of his life and eventually killed
him. But things change. Maybe we're just getting older, or maybe we're just temporarily
insane due to the traumatizing tragedy that struck this family.

But maybe, just maybe this is the beginning of something more.

*

“Well, well, well, Ms. Evans finally decided to grace us with her lovely presence.” James looks
up from the breakfast table with a grin as I enter the kitchen.

“I had to pack!” I explain, sitting down across from him.

“Sure you did,” James says, sarcastically.

I stick my tongue out at him, and James's grin widens. I look around and realize that today
we're not alone in the kitchen. In fact, everyone but Sirius and the mysterious six year old
guest have joined us at the table. James' mom fills my plate with a smile and I thank her. At
the end of the table, a man who bears an unmistakable resemblance to James sits, peering at me over
the top of the Daily Prophet through messy brown hair and a pair of glasses. His father's been
in and out of the house all week. James said that he works at the Ministry of Magic and they've
needed everyone on board following the Adam's murder.

Finally, my gaze travels to the other end of the table where Grace sits, her elbow on the table,
her face resting in her hand, and her fork idly moving back and forth across a full plate, but
never going to her mouth.

Mrs. Potter takes her seat again, eyeing Grace with concern. She tries to hide it by striking up
a conversation with James.

“Are you packed James?” she inquires of her son.

“Of course,” James answers quickly, too quickly. Obviously he hasn't even started
packing.

“Where's Sirius? Is he packed yet?”

James shrugs.

“He's probably still sleeping.”

“Well then, go wake him up,” Mrs. Potter orders. James rolls his eyes but gets up from his seat
and takes his plate to the sink.

“We're leaving this house in twenty minutes and the train's not going to wait for you!”
she calls after him.

“Yes, it will,” James mutters under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear as he passes
by.

Privately, I agree. The train left for Hogwarts the morning following the funeral, which was
three days ago. Sirius, Gracie, James and I are taking a second train back today, so chances are
we're going to be the only occupants. I don't say this to his mom of course, who's
watching Gracie again with worry filled eyes.

The kitchen door opens, and in walks a fully dressed and extremely tired, Sirius Black.

“Oh, I just sent James up.” Mrs. Potter gets up and goes toward the stove.

“He's packing,” Sirius answers, confirming my suspicions about James.

“Funny, I thought he told me that he was done … Never mind. I'll get a plate for you Sirius,
are you finished-”

“Yea, I'm finished packing,” Sirius cuts Mrs. Potter off, taking James' former seat,
beside Gracie.

At the sound of his voice, and the scraping of the chair beside her, Gracie suddenly looks up.
Sirius turns his head and their eyes meet. I hold my breath. The memory of Gracie trying to
mercilessly murder Sirius on my front lawn is still very fresh in my mind. But after a long
agonizing moment of silence, Gracie lets her eyes drop back to her full plate a moment later.
Sirius stares at her, but Gracie keeps her head down. Mrs. Potter returns with a plate, and puts it
in front of Sirius, who reluctantly tears his eyes away from the girl and starts eating.

James' mom then sits back down, fussing over her silent niece.

“Gracie, why don't you just try to eat a little-”

“No, I'm full.” Gracie glances at Sirius and then drops her fork.

“But you haven't touched your plate-”

“I said I'm full,” Gracie repeats patiently and politely, standing up. She takes her dish to
the sink, and leaves the room without another word.

I watch her exit the room, and listen as her footsteps fade. Turning back I notice that Sirius
is still staring at the door that she disappeared through, an unexplainable expression on his
face.

“Are you alright Sirius?” Mrs. Potter asks.

“I'm fine,” Sirius replies. He blinks and then returns to stuffing his face as if nothing
happened.

*

Exactly eighteen minutes later, the four of us stand on Platform nine and three quarters with
James' dad, waiting for the arrival of the Hogwarts Express. Mr. Potter glances at his watch, a
frown on his face.

“It should be here, Dumbledore said to board at eleven.”

No sooner had he said this when the train suddenly materializes out of thin air. I'm not
lying, one second it wasn't and the next, it was suddenly, well, there. James, Sirius and
Gracie are completely unfazed, having lived in the wizarding world all their life. (Then again
Gracie has been unfazed by just about everything.)

“James, Sirius, why don't you be gentlemen and help the ladies with their trunks?” Mr.
Potter suggests with a wink in our direction.

My trunk of course, is safely stored in my pocket. James offers a hand, confusion clouding his
face.

“Did you forget something?” he asks, looking behind me.

“Nope.” I smile, and pat my pocket smugly.

James' face falls when he realizes that I just ruined the opportunity his father handed to
him.

“Son, I'd like to talk to you for a minute.” Mr. Potter takes his son by the arm and leads
him to a spot further down the platform, out of hearing distance.

“I can carry it myself, thank you,” Gracie hisses, when Sirius attempts to take her trunk. She
drags it toward the train, obviously forgetting that she is a witch and her wand's probably in
her pocket. Sirius and I look on warily as she struggles to lift it up the steps.

“Let me help you with that.” Sirius tries again to help her, and this time Gracie drops it
unexpectedly. She gives him a look that clearly says fine-have-it-your-way and climbs on board. He
staggers under the weight, and I rush to help him with my wand in hand.

“Merlin, what does this girl pack, rocks? Dead bodies?” he grumbles as I relieve him of the
trunk with a flick of my wand.

“Sirius!” I hit him upside the head. Glancing nervously toward the train I pray that Gracie
didn't hear this ill comment.

Sirius holds his head, looking injured.

“I didn't mean that,” he apologizes quietly, looking up helplessly.

Both of us turn toward the train and then finding no sign of Gracie, search for James.
Surprisingly, James is looking right back at us. I raise my hand and give a tiny wave (to remind
him to hurry up). James doesn't wave back, but continues to stare until his father suddenly
turns him around, talking to him urgently. James frowns, looks at me over his father's shoulder
and then as his father grabs his attention again, he shakes his head angrily and starts walking
away.

“I better go find her.” Sirius stands in the doorway, looking down at me.

“You go on, I'll wait for James,” I find myself saying as I watch the silent father-son
argument continue.

Sirius hesitates, glancing toward James and his Dad and then shrugs.

“Suit yourself.” He slips inside the train, leaving me alone.

I wait by the train, secretly keeping an eye on James and his Dad. Again he looks at me, and
this time I'm sure he's looking at me because I'm the only one here now that Sirius
left. But why would he be looking at me during an argument? A few minutes later, James and his Dad
part amicably, and Mr. Potter disappears in the blink of an eye. James comes walking back to me,
breathing hard and still looking a bit mad.

I open my mouth, but James cuts me off with a small smile and a shake of his head.

“You wouldn't understand,” he says as if reading my thoughts.

He climbs up the steps, and I place a hand on his shoulder (only to steady myself of course,
those stairs are murder). James holds the door open for me, well not really, since it was already
open, but it's the thought that counts, right?

“Thanks,” I say, sarcastically.

“No problem.” James grins.

Halfway down the train, a compartment door slams and someone shoots out. Sirius Black comes
running to us, looking more excited than he has in weeks.

“Prongs! You'll never guess who I just found.”

“Who?” James asks, puzzled.

As if in reply, the compartment door opens a second time and someone pokes their head out.

“Remus!” I gasp, recognizing the tall sandy haired Gryffindor.

“Moony!” James rushes forward to meet Remus, grabbing his outstretched hand and slapping him on
the back heartily.

Sirius and James start talking excitedly at the same time, and Remus looks from one to the
other, obviously used to this and easily following both conversations as they boil down to one. He
looks happy, but tired. Oddly enough Remus always looks worn out. Perhaps it's because he
actually pays attention in his classes and keeps his grades up (unlike the other two knuckleheads
who stay up all night wreaking havoc and then sleep through their classes). It's really not
that strange though, when you think about it. Poor Remus, as the only sane Marauder, has to keep
Hogwarts biggest troublemakers in line, acting as a full time babysitter, making sure that they
don't get expelled or blow themselves up. It's a miracle that he's not dead yet.

“Oh, hello Lily,” Remus smiles, noticing that I've been standing here for the last ten
minutes.

“Hello, how was your summer?” I inquire, politely. What I really want to ask him though is what
are you doing here?

“It was alright. How was yours?”

“Okay.” I glance involuntarily at James who immediately clears his throat.

“Er, so why don't we go find Gracie?” James suggests.

“Gracie's here too?” Remus asks, nervously.

“Of course, you didn't expect her to walk to Hogwarts, did you?” James scoffs, a touch of
bitterness in his voice. Remus draws himself up, immediately on the defense.

“Look, Prongs, you know it was out of my control, I would've come-”

“I know Remus but she doesn't,” James interrupts, softly.

“Oh.” A strange look passes over Remus' face and if possible, he seems to have gone a paler
shade.

“Know what?” I ask, curiously.

The boys pretend as if they don't hear me, but I know for a fact that James glanced in my
direction. Whatever, it's not like they've kept secrets from me before, and besides I
thought I promised to be less meddlesome this year. I can throw that resolution out, I haven't
even gotten to Hogwarts and already I'm poking my nose where it shouldn't be. Then again, I
think it was my best friend they were discussing and I have a right to that kind of information,
right?

I start down the hall with the Three Musketeers whispering about something a good ways behind
me. I open up the next compartment, empty again. I keep my eyes open half expecting a compartment
door to fly open and the rest of the school to suddenly come racing out to greet me. But the
train's only other occupant appears to be Remus. Why? I haven't the faintest clue. Maybe he
decided to wait and join his friends or he couldn't trust them unchaperoned, fearing they might
blow up the train. I suppose I should thank him for joining us.

I reach the end of the train and open up the last compartment. Gracie's back is to me, and
her tall form is curled over her open trunk. I close the door, and she immediately slams the lid
shut and whips around to face me.

“LILY!” she yells, clutching her chest.

“Oh! I'm sorry, I should've knocked,” I apologize. Gracie looks as if she's on the
verge of a heart attack.

“Knocking would be nice.” Gracie sinks down on the trunk, catching her breath. A little color
returns to her face, but the scared look remains. I cautiously step into the compartment. Slowly, I
take a seat on the seat near her trunk.

“Sirius and James are coming…” I warn her so she won't die of heart failure when those two
bumbling idiots arrive. An awkward silence fills the compartment, and I try desperately to make
small talk. “Guess who's here?”

“Who?” Gracie's only half listening, she's not even looking at me. She keeps stealing
glances at the door and at the trunk she's sitting on.

“Remus!” I wait for her reply. Surely she must know why he's here. Sirius and James
certainly weren't questioning it.

“That's nice,” Gracie says with a thin smile, but she's not listening. Something's
distracting her, though I'm not quite sure what. Her fingers curl around the trunk, her eyes
dart back and forth, and she's fidgeting.

“Gracie, why don't you sit down next to me? We can levitate your trunk-”

“NO!” Gracie screams as I reach for the trunk. I freeze when I see the look in her blue eyes.
It's the same determination, that same vengeful look that I saw in her eyes the day that she
threatened to kill Sirius Black. I pull my hand away, back up and sit down. Gracie's face
flushes, and the light in her eyes dies.

“I mean no, I think it'll be fine here. I'm comfortable just sitting here, on my trunk,
with my back to the window, facing the door. Yea, this is the best seat on the train.” Gracie stops
rambling, and sighs. The fidgeting stops as her eyes meet mine. “Lily, look, there's something
I need to tell-”

The compartment door immediately slides open. Just my luck as usual. Gracie falls silent, as the
three boys enter, all three laughing about some stupid joke. Noticing me and then Gracie, the
laughter abruptly stops. I steal a frantic look at Gracie, but she's already closed herself off
again.

Just when she was opening up, Potter and his two equally troublesome sidekicks come in and ruin
everything.

Thanks a lot, Potter. I hope you're happy. I glare at him as he sits down beside me.

His brow wrinkles and he mouths, “What did I do?”

I shake my head, frustrated, and scoot as far away from him as the seat will allow.
Unfortunately, Gracie doesn't take this too well. My elbow bumps into her shoulder and she
jumps about a foot in the air with a startled yelp.

“I'm sorry!” I gasp, hoping she won't die on me or fly off the handle like she did with
Sirius last week.

“It's okay, you only startled me,” Gracie says, taking in the three other sets of eyes upon
her. She hides the scared look, letting a blank, emotionless mask replace it as she sits back down
again. She grabs the book that I was going to read out of my lap and opens it up. I know she's
not reading because she just opened to the end, and Gracie Adams, though very bright, never, ever,
reads for pleasure.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes pass in silence. This is going to be the longest train ride ever.
First I get stuck next to Potter and now I can't even read since Gracie decided that my book
was a perfect, not to mention completely obvious, shield. Not that I could get any reading done to
begin with, it's so quiet in here that my ears are ringing. Finally, Gracie looks up again with
a slight frown of annoyance.

“Stop staring at me!” she snaps at Remus and Sirius when she catches them both openly staring at
her. James and I are being a little more discreet about it. Remus looks away blushing and ashamed
of himself, but Sirius rolls his eyes.

“Don't flatter yourself,” he mutters just loud enough for the blue eyed girl to hear.
Slowly, the book lowers, and Gracie's face appears again.

“What did you just say?” she asks.

“You heard me.” Sirius turns bravely toward Gracie, a slight smirk on his face.

“Then why haven't you stopped looking at me.” There's an edge to Gracie's voice, a
warning that the frown her mouth has twisted into is no longer a mere mask, but the real thing.

“I'm not looking at you. I'm looking out the window which you happen to be blocking,”
Sirius replies, smartly.

“Deal with it!” Gracie growls and returns to the book.

This would have been the end of it, if Sirius had just turned and stared at something else. But
no, he sat there smirking with his eyes locked on Gracie. I give Gracie credit. She held her tongue
and her temper back for at least five minutes, pretending that she couldn't see him behind my
book.

“You're still staring.” Gracie clears her throat, a warning, leveling look in her frosty
blue eyes.

“Deal with it!” he mimics her.

I exchange a panicky look with James, wondering if Sirius has completely lost his marbles.
Remus's jaw is hanging open, and he wasn't even there to witness the life and death
wrestling match on my front yard.

“Stop it.” Gracie is trying to keep her cool, I can see her struggling, fighting it down. The
look is smoldering in her blue eyes, and again I try to shoot Sirius some sort of warning. Stop
now, if you wish to see tomorrow.

“If I'm bothering you then why don't you move? There's plenty of space.” Sirius
moves over, practically shoving Remus off the seat. He pats the cleared seat beside him, and I
watch Gracie stiffen.

“I don't want to move,” she argues, her whole body tensing.

“Well, I want to look out the window,” Sirius says, folding his arms over his chest, a sign that
he's not going to back down or let her win. I start to get up with every intention of saving
Sirius's life by physically dragging him out of the compartment and locking him in another one
down the hall.

Unfortunately, James places a restraining hand on my shoulder, a rather strong one, and I
can't move. I look up at him, wondering if he's lost his mind as well. He was there that
day! But James has a strange look on his face as his eyes watch his cousin and his best friend
carefully.

“Stop …being …so …childish!” Gracie stammers, her words barely formed as a result of the
suppressed emotion.

“Me? I'm the one who's being childish?” Sirius laughs loudly, tossing his head back.
“That's rich, you accuse me of being childish when you're the one who's hiding a little
-“ His eyes move to the trunk, and Gracie lunges at him before he can finish the sentence.

She tackles him, and the two roll off the seat and onto the floor with a loud thud. James, Remus
and I scramble to our feet, our wands out. Gracie quickly rolls him off of her and sits up on his
stomach. She pulls out her wand but the spell goes awry as Sirius grabs the wand. The two pull on
it from opposite ends, engaging in a fierce tug of war. Gracie wins. She hits him over the head
with it, and I have to admit I was half expecting it to snap in two.

Remus and I recover from the initial shock, and raise our wands.

“No!” James shouts, flinging out an arm to stop us.

“Are you insane?” I ask.

“Trust me,” James pleads, looking at me. Naturally I melt beneath those gorgeous hazel eyes
because even I'm not entirely immune to that look. Um, where did that come from? Moving on,
Sirius and Gracie have entered round two of the boxing match.

Sirius blocks the offending arm, skillfully and the wand flies out of her hand, skittering
across the floor. Remus picks it up, and James doesn't protest when he tucks it into his
pocket. Now wandless, Gracie decides that her fist will serve as a sufficient weapon. She punches
him in the face, but Sirius grabs her fist when she comes in for the second shot. Her other fist
flies out, but Sirius squirms, and her fist connects with the floor of the compartment. Gracie
swears, and Sirius takes advantage of this opportunity. He rolls, and uses his extra weight and
strength to pin the struggling, flailing, angry girl to the floor. Gracie wriggles and curses,
threatening Sirius with worse things than death.

“Ow, ow! Let go of me you imbecile! You're squishing me with your gigantic arse!”

James touches Sirius's shoulder and Sirius immediately lets go, unleashing the lioness. She
sits up immediately, her hand moving to her hair. Then without warning she dives toward Sirius.
This time Sirius is a little more prepared than he was the last time. He catches her, and she
flails in his arms, hitting and punching his chest repeatedly.

“I hate you!” she yells.

But her strength wanes, and she's overcome with tears. She slumps against his chest, sobbing
uncontrollably. Sirius (yea, Mr. Lady's Man) looks alarmed and uncomfortable by this sudden
change of events (though we all knew that this was inevitably where it would end up). It's
funny actually, because Sirius looks a bit…well…scared. James takes her gently from Sirius, and
guides her out of the compartment, leaving Remus and I with an injured Sirius.

Remus is the first to speak. He lets his breath out in a rush with a low whistle.

“Wow! For a girl, Gracie can fight really well.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, extremely offended by this attack on my gender.

“Oh well, you know, she's so skinny that you'd never expect her to have so much energy.”
Remus quickly covers himself. Good boy, now I won't have to give you my Elizabeth Stanton
speech or hurt you.

“Yea, she gave me a bloody black eye!” Sirius moans.

“No, you gave yourself that black eye. Taunting her like that, what were you expecting? A
snogging fest?” I snort.

“Smooth padfoot, that's real smooth. Excellent way to come onto a girl…” Remus snickers.

“Instead of a hickey, she left you with a shiner!” I giggle.

“True love,” Remus sighs like a love sap.

“How romantic!” I swoon, and the two of us dissolve into a fit of laughter.

“You're just jealous of me,” Sirius says smugly, running a hand through his now ruffled
black hair. His fingertips brush over his injury, and he frowns and winces. “I mean how many good
looking studs like me do you meet that had a wildly passionate, beautiful girl slug them in the
face. Not many, am I right?”

“I guess so…”

“She was all over me!” Sirius continues, regaining his smirk.

“Okay Sirius, you go right ahead and think that…” I lean toward Remus and whisper. “I think she
gave him a concussion.”

Remus grins, silently agreeing with me.

“How hard did she hit you?” he teases his friend.

“Hard enough to leave a mark, that's going to last for at least a week.” Sirius bites down
on his lip, touching the spot gently.

“What were you thinking?” I ask, shaking my head.

“I wasn't. I just knew that…” He lapses into silence, his eyes hardening and growing
distant. “You can't forget to feel. Sometimes pain is the only way to break the ice, to
remember that we are human and we have emotions.” His forehead creases, his eyes far away as if in
his mind he's returned to another time.

“She'll be okay,” he says slowly, his eyes gradually coming back into focus. “She's
going to be okay,” he repeats to himself, nodding.

And suddenly it some twisted, warped way Sirius's handling of Grace makes sense. At least
now I know where he's coming from and that he hasn't lost his mind entirely. Though I still
question his sanity on a regular basis I'm beginning to realize that Sirius might actually care
for Grace a lot more than I ever suspected.

Remus reaches into his pocket and removes a handkerchief. I take it from him, and with a well
placed charm, turn it into a make-shift ice pack. I give it to Sirius.

“Ow! That's cold!” he complains, immediately reverting back to his old self.

“Usually ice is…” Remus says dryly, and I roll my eyes.

Sirius sits nursing his injury until our “ice pack” abruptly transforms back into Remus's
handkerchief a couple of minutes later.

“Thanks, so much,” Sirius says sarcastically tossing the useless handkerchief back to Remus.

“Anytime.” Remus replies, tucking it back into his pocket.

“I'm on the verge of death and all you give me is a defective handkerchief?” Sirius
laments.

“Sorry to disappoint you Sirius, but you're not going to die anytime soon.” I break the news
to him.

“Darn!” he grumbles.

“I know believe me, you're not the only one who's disappointed.”

The three of us turn around and find Gracie and James reentering the compartment, already in
their robes. Gracie's hair is already back into place (I envy her) and there's hardly a
scratch on her. Only the slight puffiness around her eyes indicates that anything happened.

“Come on Adams, I know you really want me!” Sirius grins.

“Yea, Sirius, I'm secretly in love with you.” Gracie rolls her eyes, and takes a seat beside
me as if nothing has happened.

“So, you couldn't resist? You just had to come back and have another go at me.” Sirius leaps
to his feet and puts up his fists.

“Er, no actually, I'm starving and we just saw the food cart.”

“FOOD!” Sirius forgets Grace entirely and bolts out of the compartment in hot pursuit of the
beloved cart.

“Come on, Gracie. I'll pay,” James offers. Gracie hesitates, glancing at the trunk and then
at Remus and I.

“Can you watch the stuff?” she asks nervously.

“Of course!”

“Sure!”

“We'll guard it with our life!” I grin and Remus nods over enthusiastically.

“Okay…thanks.” Gracie follows James out, and the compartment door slides shut behind them.

Remus waits until the footsteps fade away and then gets up and checks the doorway.

“What's up, a potential robber already?” I ask, curiously.

He shakes his head and sits back down across from me.

“I've, well I, has -” he stammers to a halt reminding me that though he is a Marauder Remus
Lupin, believe it or not, can be overly polite at times.

“Remus, spit it out.” I interrupt.

“Is it just me or is Gracie acting *strange*?” he asks in a low voice.

“Remus, her family was murdered, I'd be worried if she wasn't acting strangely.” I
frown.

“I know, but it just seems like she's…” he trails off, unable to put into words what he
wants to say.

“It's going to take some time for her to get over this,” I say, softly.

Remus nods again, but frustration is still evident in his eyes as if there's something more
that he wants to say but he can't quite put a finger on it.

“It sounds silly but after what Sirius said I think that she's hiding something - there it
is again!” He stops in the middle of his sentence, frozen in place.

“What?” I ask, looking around but seeing nothing.

“You didn't hear it?” Remus asks, only mildly surprised.

“No.” I frown, wondering how he can go around accusing Grace of being strange when he's the
one that's hearing things.

“I've been hearing it ever since we got in here, but I can't place it.” He closes his
eyes, deep in concentration.

Did he just fall asleep? I know I'm not the most exciting person but I didn't realize I
was *that* boring. I consider retrieving the book that Gracie was reading but suddenly Remus
jerks awake and speaks.

“Listen, it's coming from - there!” Remus stands up, pointing at the trunk.

“What?” I ask. Alarmed by his expression I jump to my feet.

“That noise, it sounds like something's…breathing.”

“Remus, what are you talking about? That's Gracie's trunk!” I break off because the
trunk, is now moving. It's shaking, trembling, rocking back and forth as if it's…

“Oh my god it's alive!” I gasp.

“Get back Lily!” James orders, coming into the compartment.

Perfect timing, Potter. As always. He grabs my arm, and pulls me toward him. Remus scrambles to
join us, and we huddle in the corner with our wands out.

“Should we attack it?” I ask. Spells, curses and hexes running through my head as I wonder what
Gracie could possibly be keeping in her trunk that might attack us.

Wait, this is ridiculous. I'm about to do battle with my best friend's trunk!

“Why don't we just run?” Remus suggests, wisely.

“We're Gryffindors, mate, and besides it's can't be…that big…” James trails off as
suddenly the trunk tips over and all of the contents spill out. Clothes, books, quidditch stuff,
dung bombs (hey we're in the same house as the Marauders, even I keep a couple in my trunk) and
everything else tumbles out onto the compartment floor. Nothing out of the ordinary; just a trunk
that randomly exploded for no particular reason.

“That's it?” James asks, obviously anticipating something more exciting.

“I don't see anything breathing,” I observe.

Remus gasps, and we fall silent. The pile trembles, and the clothes go flying. Something, or
rather someone, that is very much alive and definitely breathing, sits in the midst of the chaotic
mess, looking up at us through a scared pair of brown eyes.

James groans. Remus drops his wand, completely overwhelmed and beyond confused.

“Oh, no. Tell me Gracie didn't do what I think she did,” I whisper, holding a hand over my
eyes.

But she did.

“GRACEEEE!” The little girl suddenly untangles herself from the debris, and runs toward the
sixteen year old that just entered. Gracie's jaw drops as the girl attaches herself to her
legs. Quickly she scoops her up in a motherly hug. The terrified child wraps her frail, bony arms
around Gracie's neck and immediately bursts into tears.

“It's alright, I'm here now,” Gracie whispers, soothingly.

Remus coughs, clearing his throat meaningfully. Slowly, she turns to looks at the three of us,
her mouth opening but no words coming out.

“I knew it.” Sirius leans against the door post and shoots Grace a wide smirk that screams “I
told you so”. Gracie's eyes widen, shock flitting across her face as she holds the child
protectively to her chest.

“How did you know?” she asks Sirius, fearfully.

“Know what? Can someone please tell me what's going on?” Remus asks, folding his arms over
his chest with a frown.

“I think we'd all like an explanation,” James says, softly.

Gracie tears her eyes from Sirius, and eyes us helplessly. She kisses the child's curling
black hair, smoothing it with one hand. At last she sighs and sits down. She nods to Sirius.

“Shut the door.”

*

“I had to do it, you see? I couldn't just leave her there. She lost everything, just like
me.” As Gracie finishes her tale, I look down at the mysterious girl now fast asleep in
Gracie's lap.

“Grace, how do you know all this? From what you just told us, you have no idea who she is. You
don't even know her name, do you?” James asks, running a hand through his hair.

Gracie doesn't say anything. Instead she fusses over the little girl in her lap, playing
with her hair, and moving her gingerly into a more comfortable position.

“Gracie, she's a perfect stranger! I've never seen the kid in my life and she was found
in my house,” James continues, but Gracie meets his eyes fiercely.

“I know. Okay? I know! You don't have to tell me. Trust me on this one, she's lost, she
needs someone to take care of her. I'm not sure how she ended up there, I just know that she
needs me and I…I think I need her too.” She whispers, bowing her head.

My heart breaks for both of them. Gracie's right of course. The little girl that I met in
the hall was bleeding and screaming, begging for someone to comfort her. With Gracie mourning the
loss of her family, it seemed inevitable that these two lost souls would meet up and find solace in
each other.

“She can't stay here,” Sirius says, gently.

“Why not?” Gracie asks, glaring at him. “Why can't she stay with me at Hogwarts? I'll
take care of her. I will! There's plenty of food. And she can sleep in our dorm, right
Lily?”

“Erm.” I want to say yes, but of course I know that Sirius is right. I can't look Gracie in
the eye. I turn my head painfully away.

“I can take care of her!” Gracie continues, her voice rising steadily. “I will take care of her!
Nothing you can do can stop me. There's no rule against it!”

I can't look at her and neither can Remus. But James and Sirius stare her down. Gracie's
rising voice falters weakly and finally fades under their unwavering glare.

“She has to go home, Gracie,” Sirius whispers.

Gracie looks up at him, then down at the child in her lap.

“I know,” she says, tearfully, “But where's home?”

Sirius closes his mouth, unable to answer her question. James on the other hand, looks up with a
thoughtful expression on his face.

“I think we might be able to arrange something…”

*

Wearily, we enter the castle. Gracie carries Angel, as we've taken to calling her, and the
rest of us drag and levitate the trunks and owl cages.

“They're here! Peter, they're here!” My roommate's loud excited voice carries down
the staircase long before her quick footsteps and familiar face follow. Tiffany Crowley grabs me,
James, and Remus up in one huge bear hug (Ugh, my cheek touched Potter's, even if it was for a
split second, that's just nasty, or nice, depending on how you look at it.) and then turns to
do the same for Gracie and Sirius, but stops when she sees Gracie's precious package.

“Aww, Gracie who's this?” But before Gracie can even think of answering this question, she
notices the resemblance and comes to the same conclusion I did, except I thought she was
James's sister, not Gracie's. “Your little sister's so cute. How come I never knew you
had a sister?”

“Because she doesn't have one.” Sirius laughs ruffling the smaller girl's hair.

Tiffany scowls and hits him, making him pay dearly for this relapse. (Sirius and Tiffany used to
date last year. Sirius apparently still finds it hilarious to ruffle Tiffany's hair, since
she's a lot shorter than him.)

“Peter!” Tiffany bellows up the staircase, but Peter must have vanished. “Must've gone to
get more food, he's worse than you Sirius! Sirius? Gracie? James? Lily? Hey! Where are you all
going? You just got here!”

“We need to see Dumbledore, erm, because - because he told us to when we got here,” I lie
through my teeth, doing a horrible job of it judging by the way James is smirking at me and Sirius
is snickering, not to mention the obviously unconvinced expression on Tiffany's face.

“Can you take our stuff up? Thanks that'd be great sweet heart!” Sirius grins, practically
begging for another slap in the face. Which he would've gotten, if Remus hadn't moved
behind Sirius at that very moment.

“Fine. Wait, you can't expect me to take up all of this stuff! PETER! Lazy, unreliable kid,
never around when you actually need him. Where do you think you're going Lupin? Thanks for
volunteering to help!” Tiffany grabs the back of Remus's robes, dragging him away. Remus shrugs
helplessly, and obediently follows Tiffany over to the mess of trunks and cages.

“So…” I start once we're out of ear shot.

“So?” Sirius raises an eyebrow.

“Did you send them the letter?” I ask James.

James nods, and steals a look at Gracie.

“They're waiting for us inside Dumbledore's office.”

Gracie nods, resting her chin on the top of Angel's hair.

An ancient statue of a gargoyle looms before us, growing larger with every step. Gracie starts
dragging her feet, constantly glancing over her shoulder as if she's considering making a run
for it. When we finally reach the statue it immediately springs aside, revealing a winding
staircase and a strict looking woman dressed in emerald robes and a tall black witches's
hat.

“Hello Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Ms. Evans, and Ms. Adams. Go on up, they've been waiting for
over an hour.” Professor McGonagall, our Transfiguration professor, steps aside letting Gracie go
through first and then the rest of us.

The door to Dumbledore's office opens immediately, and an old man with long white hair, and
an equally long beard greets us.

“Come in.” He opens the door, exposing his office and the tired, anxious faces of Mr. and Mrs.
Potter.

“James!”

“Gracie!”

James's worried parents leap to their feet and run to embrace their son and niece. Both of
them stop abruptly when they see what Gracie's holding.

“Is that -?”

“Who? What?”

The four of us exchange a glance, and I swear I would've been laughing right now at the look
on his parent's face, but of course this isn't a laughing matter.

“I'll explain everything,” Gracie says, sitting down in one of the chairs. Mr. and Mrs.
Potter sit down in two chairs facing her and the three of us gather around behind her. McGonagall
closes the door and Dumbledore takes a seat behind the desk.

Gracie takes a deep breath, and starts to tell the story all over again, from the very beginning
right up until the train ride.

When she finally finishes, Heather and her husband are stunned.

“Who is she?” Heather asks at last.

“That's the thing, we don't really know,” James replies, sharing a look with me. I bite
back a smile remembering the guessing game that we played on the roof and the ridiculous theories
that I enjoyed coming up with.

“But she - I mean you found her in our home?” James's Dad runs a hand through his hair,
looking exactly like his son when he's confused or frustrated or god forbid, thinking!

Gracie nods.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter hold a whispered conversation, and Heather nods to her husband.

“Can we see her? Maybe one of the Aunts left her behind. Your Aunt Cecilia has what six kids
now?”

“Eight, she just had twins.” A shadow of a smile crosses Gracie's face as she says this.

“Oh, that's right. I don't want to wake her, but I might be able to place a name with
the face since she certainly looks like she belongs in the family. Do you mind if I take a look?”
Heather asks, hesitantly holding out her arms.

Gracie's reluctant to relinquish the child, but when their eyes meet those of Heather, she
must have seen something that made her suddenly change her mind.

“You won't have to worry about waking her. We put her in an enchanted sleep,” Gracie
explains softly, as she gingerly transfers the child into Heather's waiting arms.

Heather's face softens, as she gently takes the child into her lap. She instantly switches
into maternal mode, cradling the young girl, and cooing comforting, soothing words under her
breath. Gracie lets her hands fall to her lap, and I place a hand on her shoulder.

I think that we made the right decision…

That is until, Heather suddenly gasps, stifling a scream. Gracie throws herself forward, but
Heather pulls the child out of Gracie's reach and to her bosom. The child merely starts to
snore softly, still wrapped up in an enchanted slumber, as Heather buries her face into the
child's hair.

“Mom!” James and his Dad, both kneel down in front of Heather, alarmed and frightened. Heather
lifts her head and I can see that there are tears in her eyes. She ignores James, grasping her
husband's hand in her own.

“Look at her! Tell me, doesn't she look exactly like *her*?” she cries.

Gracie, Sirius and I crane our heads, attempting to move closer and see what they're talking
about, but James stands up, blocking our view with his tall frame.

After another hushed conversation, Mr. Potter stands up and hugs his son and then turns to
Gracie. Gracie peers around him, looking at her Aunt suspiciously.

“We'll take care of her Gracie, she's just… Well, you know she hasn't gotten over
your mother's…”

“And neither have I,” Gracie whispers.

Mr. Potter smiles sadly taking his niece's hands in his own. “Your mother was a wonderful
woman, one of the kindest, strongest people I've ever met, and your father he was more of a
brother than my own and your brother was like a son to me. I don't think any of us will fully
get over their deaths. We were so lucky that we didn't lose you as well.” He wraps his arms
around Gracie, who weakly returns the hug.

“Don't worry about her, we'll find her parents and we'll bring her home.” Her uncle
releases her and gently guides her over to where the rest of us are standing.

“Take good care of them,” he whispers to his son, handing Gracie to him. (I notice he said them
not her.) James rests a hand on Gracie's shoulder, nodding. He leads her from the room, and I
turn to look for Sirius, only to realize that he's already left.

“Hope!” Heather wails. “My god, I look into her face, and I see yours! What kind of games are
you playing! Why are you torturing me? Why'd you leave me sister?” Her words trail off into
incoherent mumblings between sobs. Professor McGonagall shoos me from the room, slamming the door
shut behind me.

I dash down the staircase, my head spinning. The gargoyle jumps out of the way and I run to
catch up with the others. But one look at Gracie's tear stained face, and James and
Sirius's solemn warning glares and I close my mouth, deciding that now would not be the best
time to bring up Gracie's mother and her alleged resemblance to the mysterious Angel girl.

*

I can't sleep.

Tonight, I made a shocking discovery. Tiffany Crowley actually sleeps. Unfortunately, I now know
why Tiffany Crowley never goes to sleep until long after all of us have closed our eyes. Her snores
are nothing worse than a chainsaw.

I throw off the covers and slip out of bed, immediately tripping over the trunk that I dropped
beside my bed.

Ow!

How could I forget that the shrinking charm would've worn off by now? I'm so glad that
no one's around to realize that one of the top students in their year is actually the biggest
idiot.

“Lily?”

Never mind. I look up and find my best friend curled up on the windowsill.

“Sorry, I tripped over my trunk,” I whisper apologetically, though it's not necessary with
Tiffany over there making more noise than a freight train. I should be screaming to be heard over
that racket.

“Oh,” Gracie laughs weakly.

“I hope I didn't wake Alice up,” I say, sarcastically.

A bomb could go off and our roommate Alice would probably sleep through it and we both know it.
Gracie gives another weak laugh, this one feebler than the first.

“Couldn't sleep?” I ask, cautiously joining her on the windowsill.

“That's a dumb question, Lily,” Gracie says, amusement flickering across her face for a
fleeting moment.

“There are no dumb questions,” I quote our corny Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Again Gracie smiles. Her smile fades though as she looks out the window, and once again she
seems lost in her own little world.

I stare out the window, taking in the view of the Hogwarts grounds bathed in a waning moon. Oh,
how I missed this place. As much as I enjoyed my parent's company over the past two months, and
sleeping in my own bed, and not having Potter around, and not having to worry about
something/someone blowing up at any second (courtesy of the Marauders), Hogwarts is without a doubt
my first home. And Gracie, Alice, Tiffany, Frank, Remus, Sirius, and yes, I suppose Potter, are my
family.

“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you hadn't received that letter?” Gracie
asks, softly.

At first I think she's referring to the letter I received a week ago, the letter James was
supposed to receive, informing me of her parent's deaths. Then I realize that she's talking
about the letter from Hogwarts that I got six years ago, revealing that I was not an ordinary
muggle, but a witch.

“I think my life would have been extremely boring if I hadn't been invited here.” I smile
recalling several of the more genuinely funny and interesting pranks of the Marauders, and all the
fun times that Gracie and I shared over the years here at Hogwarts.

“So, if you had the option to go back and do it all over again, you would still come here?”

“Yes! Getting away from my sister for three quarters of the year alone was tempting,” I answer,
immediately.

“Oh, Petunia, completely forgot about her. I guess you do have a point there,” Gracie
chuckles.

“See, you've only met her once and you agree with me entirely!”

The laugh quickly dies on Gracie's lips, and she turns away to look out the window. I look
closely and notice that even in the light of a waning moon it's obvious that she's been
crying.

“Sometimes I wish I wasn't a witch,” she whispers, picking up her wand and examining it
closely.

“Why?”

How can she possibly say that? I look into her teary blue eyes and suddenly, it clicks. Chris
and her parents.

“They'd be alive right now if we were muggles.” She twirls her wand between her fingertips,
watching it as if in a trance.

“Gracie, you know that's not true,” I say, softly.

Gracie drops the wand, looking up at me.

“But it is, Lily! There would be none of these murders, none of this dark magic, none of the
evil that's slowly consuming our world,” she protests.

I shake my head.

“The muggle world isn't any different,” I patiently explain to her. “Evil exists in all
forms, in both worlds. You can go to the ends of the earth, fly out of this galaxy and it will
probably still be there to greet you with a seductive smile.” I smile sadly.

“It makes you wonder why we even bother living if there's no escape,” Gracie laughs,
bitterly.

“Someone has to create the good in the world, someone has to counteract and fight against that
evil.” I struggle to make sense of this, such a basic concept, but so difficult to explain.

“Daddy and Mommy were good people, they were fighting evil! And look what happened to them!”
Gracie's voice cracks turning into a sob.

She presses her hand to her mouth, leaning back against the window with her eyes shut tightly. I
start toward her, but Gracie pushes me away. She pulls herself together, and in a trembling voice
continues to speak.

“She lost everything too, Lily. I just know it. I know it sounds silly, but I couldn't leave
her. I didn't want to - I couldn't let her go.”

“Oh, Gracie.” Again I move toward her, and this time she lets me in. I draw her into my arms,
and she cries on my shoulder.

“She'll be alright,” I promise. “You know your Aunt and Uncle will take good care of her,” I
reassure her, rubbing her back.

“I know, but will I?” she asks me, sitting up and swiping at her streaming eyes.

I look at her closely, my best friend, the strong one, the pillar of strength that always held
me up, brought to her knees, weak, helpless and defenseless with tears in her eyes again. She
sniffs, giving me a watery smile. I've never seen her like this before, but I know, just by
looking in my best friend's eyes, the girl that was more of a sister than the one that shares
my blood, that she's going to be alright.

“You will be Gracie. You're strong,” I tell her, honestly.

“I'm not so sure anymore,” Gracie whispers.

“That's where I come in.” I grin.

And finally, she smiles.

“I'll help you get back on your feet. I'm your best friend, it's like my job.”

Gracie laughs.

“Thanks, Lily.”

We hug in a sisterly fashion, and it feels almost like old times, almost. Gracie's laughing,
the tears are drying and the color is receding from her blotchy tear stained face. She will be
okay. She's always been strong, and even if she wasn't, I'm right behind her every step
of the way.

“What are you two laughing about?” a voice asks, groggily.

Gracie and I jump. A half asleep, Tiffany, with bed head, stands yawning and rubbing her eyes.
We'd been so caught up in talking and laughing that I didn't even notice that the snoring
had stopped. Wow. How could I miss that? Guess we were having too much fun.

“Sorry Tiff, we didn't mean to interrupt your precious beauty sleep,” I apologize with a
grin.

“I don't need beauty sleep. I was born beautiful but you on the other hand…” She looks me up
and down and I hit her and pretend to be offended. Tiffany laughs and shoves me, making room for
herself on the windowsill beside me.

“Excuse me but who gave you permission to have a party without me! I think I'm going to have
to have a very long chat with the two of you. This might require some food, preferably chocolate?”
Tiffany grins.

“Too bad we don't have any,” Gracie points out with a roll of her eyes.

“You jump to conclusions far too quickly my friend.”

The three of us whirl around to find Alice standing there in her dressing robe, holding a
Honeydukes bag. She sits down and tips it over, dumping the sugary amphibians onto the windowsill
which is by now extremely crowded. Good thing none of us are claustrophobic.

“Mother of Merlin, Alice is actually awake! Call in the Aurors, something is terribly wrong!”
Gracie mock faints, and Alice hits her looking only a little embarrassed.

“What is the cause of this phenomenon?” I gasp.

“Tiffany actually,” Alice replies, glaring at the girl who innocently stares at the ceiling,
whistling. “It's hard not to wake up when someone falls out of bed and then tries to get into
your bed.”

Gracie and I crack up laughing.

“I said I was sorry, I was half asleep!” Tiffany protests.

“I realize that, but you still woke me up!” Alice huffs.

“If I hadn't you would've missed out on the party of the century!”

“I am the party!” Alice snorts and takes a chocolate frog.

She used to be shy believe it or not. I swear! Then we, or rather loud, talkative Tiffany,
corrupted her. Seriously, it was all Tiffany's fault! Gracie and I had nothing to do with
it!

“What are we celebrating?” Alice asks me.

I exchange a quick look with Gracie, knowing full well that celebration wasn't exactly what
we had in mind when we first started our little chat. Tiffany, probably suspecting it, and always
the dramatic one in the group, immediately comes up with something fancy that sounds good, most of
the time.

“A new beginning!”

“That's the sorriest excuse for a party that you've ever come up with,” Alice
laughs.

“You're right but at this hour the creative juices aren't exactly flowing, besides,
since when do we need an excuse to party?” Tiffany asks.

“You have a point,” I admit.

“I always do darling,” Tiffany says in a conceited manner, imitating our final room mate,
who's well, probably off in some guys bed.

But that's another story… It can wait.

Right now I'd like to thank the fates for giving me the greatest friends I could ask for.
Tiffany and Alice haven't changed at all in the last three months and are cracking jokes and
talking to Gracie and I as if the world hadn't crashed down around us last week. I missed the
sound of Gracie's laugh, I missed Alice and Tiffany's friendly bantering, and I missed
this, just the four of us girls, sitting around, eating chocolate and chatting about everything and
nothing.

Bit by bit, the bricks are replaced, the world is slowly rebuilt. We can't bring
Gracie's parents back or Chris, no matter how deep our friendship runs. They're beyond
saving.

Gracie is not.

And so we spent hours, Alice, Tiffany and I, building up that illusion of the old world. And by
the end of the night, I had pushed everything to the back of my mind and was aching all over from
excessive dosages of laughter and smiles.

Gracie slept at last, soundly, without tears, without nightmares, and without Angel. Hogwarts
provided a shelter from the evils of the past, present, and future.

For now…

**A/N**: *I know the beginning was weird. I don't know why I wrote that dream thing,
maybe I just wanted to write an action scene and it didn't fit in, or maybe I was trying to
kind of foreshadow, or maybe I just wanted to throw in a cliche since I've been acting so
uncharacteristically unique lately but it does pop up later and its not going to make sense but
don't worry I dont expect you to understand until later, much later, when you will have
probably forgotten.* *The girl's party was kind of cliche too but I wanted you to meet
Alice and Tiffany again.*

**Anyway the next chapter takes place about 2 months in the future, in** **Decem****ber,
at Hogwarts with all of our favorite characters and the plot for the next 5 chapters or so will be
making an appearance. Yay! I'll try to update within the week.** **Sorry for the
wait!**

-->



11. The World Never Stops Turning
---------------------------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *I don't think I'd be here if I owned anything.*

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Thanks so much to those of you that took the time and effort to
review. I love you guys! This chapter takes place 3 months after the last chapter in December of
Lily and James's Sixth Year.**

**Chapter Ten: The World Never Stops Turning**

*FLASH!*

*A green bright light explodes before me.*

*I can't see a bloody thing with this blinding green light surrounding me. It's as if
the light's been frozen, stopped in its tracks, or maybe it's me that's stopped time.
I'm not quite sure, but it's creeping me out. Cautiously**,* *I raise a hand and
slowly reach for the light. My fingers quiver, my heart thuds in my chest,* *and* *sweat
slides down the side of my face.*

*What am I so afraid of?*

*I touch the light. M**y hand burns, but I feel no pain. Suddenly**,* *the
light's gone, swallowed up by a wand. I'm moving backwards. In awe I watch, as everything
suddenly seemed to back up.*

*I'm rewinding it.*

*FLASH!*

“Lily! Wake up, Lily! Lily! Come on, wake up!”

My eyes open, a blinding light pouring in through the windows. Immediately, I close my eyes
again. Someone tugs on my arm, shaking me frantically, but I cover my eyes and roll over.

*Rewind. Concentrate. Rewind.*

“I think she's tired,” whispers a voice that sounds like Alice's.

“I don't give a damn if she's tired; she's not missing this,” replies the undeniable
voice of Grace Adams.

No, not now. Let me sleep, I'm almost there, I almost had it! Not now!

But Gracie, true to her word, did not intend for me to miss, er, well I'm not exactly sure,
but it must be important.

“Lily Evans, get your arse out of bed before I throw you in the shower. A *cold*
shower.”

She's not kidding, either. Last week, I overslept and Gracie threatened me. Of course I
thought, “What kind of girl would put their best friend in a freezing cold shower when it feels
like it's below zero in the dormitories already?” I mean, I would've gotten hypothermia and
died. So I rolled over just to show that I didn't believe her, and suddenly I was waking up in
the shower, cursing and freezing to death.

Some best friend.

Gracie paid her dues, of course, but it's still an experience that I have no intention of
repeating.

I'm out of my bed in less than three seconds, wide-awake.

“That was close, Lily, real close,” Tiffany whispers, earning a glare from Gracie. Both of them
are perched on the windowsill with Alice, looking out at something.

I notice that they're still in their dressing robes and pajamas, and none of them have
bothered to take a shower, change into their uniforms, or gather their books.

“It's Saturday,” I realize with a frown.

“Yep, no classes today!” Alice chirps cheerfully, rubbing a spot on the icy windowpane with the
sleeve of her robe.

I turn to Gracie, and fold my arms over my chest.

“You better have a good reason as to why you woke me up before eight on a Saturday morning,” I
scowl.

“Because we felt like it,” Tiffany snickers. She must have seen me reach for my wand because she
sobers and hastily adds, “Just kidding!”

“Why'd you wake me up?” I growl.

“It's snowing,” Gracie says simply, shrugging her shoulders and turning back to the
window.

“You woke me, because it's snowing!” I cry. “It happens all the time—wait, it's snowing?
Really? You mean it's really snowing, right now?”

Gracie nods, a small smile stealing across her face.

I run across the room and jump onto the windowsill. I press my face against the ice laced window
pane, staring out at the swirling, feathery light flakes spiraling down to greet the snow-covered
ground below. It's the first snowfall of the winter! My heart leaps into my throat, childish
excitement and anticipation rushing through my veins. Before I can stop myself I'm undoing the
freezing latch on the window.

“Lily, what are you doing?” Tiffany makes a move to stop me, but I throw open the window and she
gives a shriek and scampers back to her nice warm bed.

I lift my head, laughing as the snow lands in my hair, on my face, and in my open mouth. The
cold air rushes into our room, the snowflakes melting and dripping down my neck. Gracie giggles,
stretching out her arms, holding out her open palms. Alice shivers and wisely runs back to light a
fire in the room.

“Shut the window; it's freezing!” Tiffany shouts.

Gracie and I ignore her. She grabs my arm and we dance around the room laughing in the midst of
the swirling snowflakes, leaving the window wide open.

*

“Achoo!”

I offer Alice another tissue along with a sympathetic smile. She blows her nose, and crumples it
up, adding it to the growing pile beside her. Gracie flicks her wand and the pile disappears. The
three of us are sitting around the fire in our room, wrapped in many blankets and warming charms,
trying desperately to get warm.

“It's your own fault you know,” Tiffany says, making sure the latch on the window is
securely shut before coming over to join us with three mugs of steaming butterbeer. “If Lily
hadn't opened that window and let all the cold air and the snow in-”

“Give it a rest, Tiffany,” Gracie laughs, accepting the mug. “You're acting like an old
hag.”

“I am not!” She protests, sitting down on the floor beside us and handing Alice a bigger box of
tissues.

“I thought you were supposed to be the fun one in the group,” I tease, taking a sip.

“I am!” she insists indignantly.

I exchange a look with Gracie and we roll our eyes.

“ACHOO!”

The three of us jump and I almost spill hot butterbeer onto my lap.

“Sorry,” Alice mumbles.

“Don't apologize, it's not your fault you're sick,” Tiffany says, patting Alice on
the back and turning an accusing glare in our direction. “It's Lily and Gracie's.”

“Mine? Lily was the one who opened it,” Gracie says, quick to point the finger at me.

I have such loyal friends.

“You weren't exactly closing it either, doing that jig around the room and singing Christmas
Carols,” I tell her. Gracie blushes and the other two laugh.

“Ah-Ah-ACHOO!”

“Keep that up, Alice, and you might get out of our exams tomorrow!” I say brightly, referring to
the Mid Year exams that we're given every year right before the holidays.

“ACHOO!”

“You know what, I think Alice passed it on to me. Achoo, Achoo, Achoo. Cough. Cough.” Gracie
fake sneezes and pretends to cough.

“Yeah, me too. It's very contagious. ACHOO! COUGH!” Tiffany's hand flies to her throat
and she starts hacking as if she's on her deathbed.

“Nothing Madam Pomfrey's Pepperup potion can't cure,” I reassure them with a grin.

“Um, actually, this is a very special case of the common cold. I don't think it can be cured
by the Pepperup Potion,” Gracie says hastily.

“Yeah,” Tiffany nods furiously in agreement, continuing her deathbed theatrics.

“Well, we'll just have to find out now, won't we? Come on, let's go.” I stand up and
hold out a hand to both of them.

Abruptly the coughing and the sneezing stop.

“You know what, suddenly I feel fine,” Gracie grins.

“Never felt better in my entire life,” Tiffany agrees.

“ACHOO!”

“Yeah, me—ACHOO—too.” Alice sniffles, blowing her nose again. “What? I—ACHOO—feel—ACHOO—fine.
Honestly! ACHOO!”

Right Alice, and I'm going to marry Potter. I sigh and go to get another box of tissues.
She's going to the infirmary, whether she likes it or not.

*

Alice and I stroll through the empty hallways of Hogwarts. The rest of the school's
sleeping, outside, studying, or still at breakfast. It's nice sometimes to walk through these
halls without the sounds of people bustling to and from classes or fighting with the Slytherins or
laughing or cursing about the infamous Marauder's latest prank. It's freezing, though.
Honestly, you'd think that being magical and all that they'd think about investing in heat.
I know for a fact that electricity doesn't work at Hogwarts (bad experience with a muggle radio
that I don't plan on repeating), but wizards must have an alternative other than old-fashioned
fires. Right?

“I'm not going.” Alice stops in her tracks.

She seems to have noticed that we're not exactly heading in the direction of the Great Hall.
Took her long enough. She couldn't honestly have believed that I was going to eat breakfast
after all the stuff we just ate in our dormitory.

“Oh, yes, you are. It's my fault you're sick, so it's my job to get you to the
infirmary.”

“Lily, I'm fine. See, I'm not sne—ee—eez—” She clamps a hand over her mouth to prevent
herself from doing it. “See, fine.” Again she ducks her head, covering her face with her hands.

“The Pepperup potion will only take a second!”

Alice turns around and starts walking quickly in the other direction. Or she would've if I
hadn't caught a hold of her cloak and dragged her back.

“It won't take long and you'll feel so much better,” I reason with her.

Alice glares at me, but it's ruined entirely when she starts sneezing again.

“Hey, Alice!” a voice calls from behind us. “Lily!”

“Oh, no,” Alice groans, instantly recognizing the voice.

Oh, yes! I grin broadly, turning both Alice and myself around to greet the slightly chubby
teenager hurrying to catch up with us. Frank Longbottom couldn't have better timing.

“Hide me!” Alice whimpers, running to hide behind me. She knows, just as I do, that once Frank
sees the state she's in, there's no way she's going anywhere until she gets the dreaded
Pepperup potion from Madam Pomfrey. If Alice even shivers, the boy's in overly concerned mode,
ready to carry her off to the infirmary. He's crazy about Alice. It's a shame that
she's too stupid to notice.

“What's wrong?” Frank asks, eyeing his best friend, who's currently crouching down
behind me.

“She's scared of Madam Pomfrey,” I explain, peeling her hands off of my shoulders, and
forcing her to move out in front of me.

“Madam Pomfrey?” His brows knit, and, here it comes, the color practically drains from his face
and suddenly he looks almost as ill as Alice. Only his eyes shine brightly with concern, worry and
love. Though Alice, of course, never seems to catch onto this last part.

“What's wrong? Are you hurt? Are you sick?” He grabs her by the shoulders, inspecting her
closely with a keen eye.

“I'm fine, Frank.” But she sneezes. Alice never was a very good liar.

“You're not fine, you're sick. We've got to go to the infirmary right now.” Frank
wraps an arm around her shoulders and marches her off to the Infirmary.

“It's only a cold!” Alice protests weakly, but she's losing the battle miserably.
“You're acting like I'm dying!” she complains, blushing, and shooting a glare over a
shoulder when she hears me laughing.

Oops. I turn my back on them and start walking back to the Great Hall. That was a piece of cake.
I'm good, I'm so good. Everyone thinks the Marauders are the masterminds, but I beg to
differ. I think it's someone by the name of Lily Marie Evans. That's right, *moi.*
Only a woman could set up something like that.

“These halls are freezing, and where's your scarf? You could catch a cold and die!” Frank
admonished.

“Frank! Will you - no, no, you put me down right now!” Alice squeaked.

I can't help myself; I have to turn around. I catch a glimpse of them just before they turn
the corner; Frank has boldly picked Alice up, cradling her like a child in his arms (though rather
clumsily, considering it's Frank and Alice). Oh dear… I hope he doesn't trip. And
Alice's face is the exact shade of my dark red hair.

I giggle and wave to Alice, but luckily Frank's back is to me, and Alice is too busy
clinging to Frank (she's probably terrified he's going to stumble and drop her) and
embarrassed to do anything. Later she'll probably try to kill me, but I know that secretly
she's enjoying every minute of this.

She'll thank me some day.

I hope.

*

“Lily? LILY!”

I jump, knocking the Transfiguration book off my lap. Tiffany catches it, finally grabbing my
attention.

“Should I say yes or no?” Tiffany asks, as if she's picking up where we had just left off in
a conversation. I realize that she is, but that unfortunately I wasn't listening to any of
it.

“What?” I try not to look too confused.

“Should I tell him yes or no?” she repeats.

“I don't know, what do you think?” I say wisely.

Unfortunately Tiffany isn't buying it.

“Lily!” she groans. “You weren't listening to anything I said!”

“Of course I was!” I lie.

Tiffany rolls her eyes.

“You know Lily, Hogwarts could be on fire and as long as you have a book, I doubt you'd
notice.”

“Well at least I'll die happily,” I say sarcastically, pulling my Transfiguration textbook
into my lap once more, and opening it up to where I had left off before Tiffany had interrupted my
studies.

“You're impossible!” Tiffany mutters with a frustrated sigh.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't Ms. Evans.”

I don't have to look up from my Transfiguration textbook. I already know who it is.

“Potter,” I groan.

“Hey, James!” Tiffany waves.

“Hi, Tiffany. How's the weather down there?” He nods to Tiffany, who's currently lying
on the floor in front of the fire.

“It's heating up,” she says, tugging on her blouse in a jokingly flirty manner.

“That's because I just walked in.” He winks at us, and Tiffany and I both roll our eyes.

“I'm going to go cool off,” Tiffany quips, and before I can tell her to wait, she's left
me with Potter and no way out.

Some friend she is.

He plops himself down on the sofa beside me. I knew it was a bad idea to study in the Common
Room. Why didn't I stay with Gracie in our dorm? That's the one place that Potter, or any
guy for that matter, can't go. And the lady's room, of course.

“What are you doing?” he asks, scooting closer to me in an attempt to look at the book, and
brushes his hand against my thigh. He accomplishes nothing though, because I pick up the books
Tiffany abandoned and place them between us.

“What do you think I'm doing Potter?” I retort, trying to find my place again.

“Thinking of me?”

I snort. He thinks way too highly of himself.

“Potter, we have exams tomorrow,” I inform him. No doubt he hasn't picked up a book, let
alone opened one.

“Really?”

“*Really*.” I roll my eyes at the mildly surprised expression on his face before returning
to the book in my lap. “You know Potter, maybe you should actually do something useful,” I
suggest.

“Like what?” Potter asks grinningly, taking the opportunity to sweep his eyes over the length of
my body. I'm sure I know what he's thinking and I definitely do not categorize that as
being useful.

“Like studying,” I frown.

“I am studying,” he says with a wicked grin that has sent many a girl into a near nervous break
down, and once a dead faint. Luckily, despite this insult to my sex, I am completely immune to
Potter's so called “charms”.

I grit my teeth, begging myself silently not to lose my temper, but still I'm glaring,
letting him know he got under my skin and it doesn't help that my wand's currently pointed
in his direction. Breathe Lily, breathe. He's not worth it.

He must have gotten the idea though, because out of the corner of my eye I see James Potter
stand up and leave. Finally, now I can get some studying done in peace.

I lean back, pulling the book toward me. There's hardly anyone in the common room so the
only sounds to disturb my studying are those of a crackling fire. I hear a whispering in my ear,
and turn my head slightly. Then something touches my opposite cheek and I reach up and brush back
my hair. I lower my head, ready to find my place in the book again, but there's something
breathing down the back of my neck. I twist around and come within millimeters of Potter's
face.

“POTTER, what do you think you're doing?” I shout in alarm. He falls back a step, giving me
some breathing space, and a better look at the sly grin spreading rapidly across his face.

“Studying,” he says innocently.

“Breathing down the back of my neck? Scaring the living daylights out of me? You call that
studying?”

“I was merely reading over your shoulder,” he explains mock seriously.

“Go read your own book!” I snap, suddenly at a loss for any witty, snappy comeback to make him
go away. Sometimes looking at the almighty James Potter does that to me. He's not ugly,
I'll give that to him. He may be a prick but he's a good-looking one.

“I can't do that,” he says, leaning on the sofa. “I lost my book.”

Believe it or not, he's telling the truth. Trust me, I've seen his room at home.
It's a wonder the boy can find anything in that pig sty. Can you imagine what the boy's
dormitory, which he shares with four other slobs, looks like?

“Borrow Sirius's!” I say exasperatedly.

“Can't, he's the one who lost it,” Potter says smugly.

“Why don't you share your books with Remus? Maybe then you won't lose them all the
time.”

“He's always reading them!” he complains.

“Well, you could take a leaf out of his book!” I snap.

“I can't if he's always reading it!” he whines, completely missing the point.

“Potter! You're wasting my time!” I rub my temple, wondering why he has to be so
insufferable. Another five minutes in his presence and I'll end up with a head-splitting
migraine and a shot temper. His hand strays to my hair, and for a moment the gentle strokes are
almost soothing. I close my eyes, only to immediately open them.

“What do you want?” I groan, swatting his hand away from my hair.

“You,” he whispers.

He's so damn close to me that I shiver, feeling his breath upon my cheek. One part of me
shuts down as his hands move to my shoulders, but the other half is still operating in full mode,
and it's this part that chucks the Transfiguration book at him. He catches it, being the
Quidditch player that he is, but it gives me time to get my defenses back up before he makes
another pass at me.

“Evans, will you go out with me?” he asks as I gather up all my stuff—actually, it's
Tiffany's stuff—preparing to go back up to my dorm where I should've stayed in the first
place.

“NO!” How many times do I have to say it before it gets through that thick skull of his? I stomp
off to the staircase but the git calls me back.

“Aren't you forgetting something?”

I turn around, fully intending to give him a piece of my mind and a little bit of ego deflating,
but James is grinning, holding out my Transfiguration textbook. I shove all Tiffany's books
into one arm, and reach for it with my free hand. But Potter, the jerk, steps back holding the book
to his chest.

“Give it back!” I demand, but Potter takes another step back, and then another. He smirks,
seeing my predicament and not doing a thing about it. I have a whole stack of books in my hand, and
he is at least six inches taller than me, at least!

“I'll give it back on one condition,” he says, holding it high above his head.

I know what he's going to say, and I don't need to hear it again. Whether he likes it or
not the answer is still-

“NO!” I drop all of Tiffany's books on the floor—she left me with Potter anyway—and take out
my wand. “*Accio* Transfiguration textbook!” The textbook flies into my arms and I run
upstairs, leaving Potter with a shocked expression, and Tiffany's stuff a mess at his feet.

“Hey, what happened?” Gracie asks as I stomp into the Sixth Year Girl's Dormitory.

“Potter was born, that's what happened.”

I toss the stupid book onto my bed, kick off my shoes, and sit down on the windowsill beside
her. It only takes her a second to realize what her cousin did this time.

“James asked you out *again*?” she asks incredulously.

I nod, glaring at the snow-covered grounds, pretending that it's Potter's face, instead
of my own, that I see reflected in the glass.

“What's this, the third time?”

“Fourth,” I correct her quietly.

“Four times in one week!” Gracie's eyes widen. “I think that's a new record.”

“No, there was that one time last year when he asked me out four times in one day,” I remind
her.

“Oh yeah, who could forget that?” Gracie chuckles.

“His head's so thick with thoughts of himself that he has to ask four times before he's
able to process the word no.” I shake my head, marveling at the boy's arrogance, determination,
and stupidity. “Maybe he doesn't understand English?”

“Try telling him in Spanish,” Gracie suggests.

“Good idea,” I say, seriously considering the suggestion. There's only one problem. “I think
it's still no.”

“Oh really? Try Chinese.”

“You know Chinese?” I ask her hopefully.

“No.”

“Darn.”

Scratch that idea. Even if I did know another language, Potter doesn't speak anything other
than Troll as far as I know. Then again, he's always full of surprises.

My mind wanders back to the first week of September, recalling a very different side of James
Potter that was revealed in the wake of the Adam's tragic murder. I still remember how broken
and lost he'd been, but at the same time he'd never been stronger. I close my eyes,
watching him in my mind, tenderly helping Gracie, clinging to me as both of us cried. While my
heart was torn seeing him like that, another part of me wishes that James could've stayed that
way. He was so different, so caring, so humble, so… not Potter. As soon as we arrived back at
Hogwarts he snapped back to normal. That side of James, the side that I actually liked, was either
hidden carefully or the responsibility of an alien power that had been inhabiting his body. Right
now, after getting asked out for the thousandth time this year, I think it's the latter.

“Why won't he give up?” I groan, banging my head on the window.

“You know why,” Gracie sighs. We've gone through this several times and it's always the
same silly but possible theory that hardly answers my question.

“Oh, come on, Gracie, there must have been some girl who's told him no before. I can't
be the only female with a brain in this school.”

Gracie clears her throat meaningfully.

“You're his cousin, so you don't count,” I add quickly.

“Thanks, Lily,” Gracie says, feigning a look of hurt. “Better make sure that Tiffany and Alice
don't hear you say that.” She grins. “They'd kill you.”

“Tiffany was only fourteen and his first girlfriend, so I guess she doesn't count. He never
asked Alice and it wouldn't have mattered if he had because she already wants to kill me,” I
point out.

“Why?” Gracie looks at me, curious, quickly noticing the mischief in my expression. “Lily
what'd you do to our poor little Alice?” she asks grinning, obviously knowing where this is
going.

“Nothing.” I smile innocently.

“Come on tell me!” she begs.

I smirk and hurriedly give her a recap of our eventful walk to the infirmary. Gracie laughs and
gives me a high five.

“Nice move,” she congratulates me. “I doubt the Marauders could've done any better.”

“Psssh. It was like taking candy from a baby. Frank is mad about her. He'd jump off the
Astronomy Tower if she told him to,” I say, brushing it off with a smug smile.

“I know, but -“

“-we're only *best friends*!” Gracie and I quote, imitating Alice, right down to the
slight blush and the smallest stammer that only we, who have bunked with her for nearly six years,
could always catch.

“She's so blind,” Gracie chuckles with a shake of her head.

“I know; I can't believe she passed her O.W.L.s.”

“You and me both,” she agrees.

It's right in front of her face. Why can't the girl see it? Everyone else can.

“She's going to be livid,” Gracie snickers.

“Not if she snogs Frank,” I say slyly.

“She won't until she comes to her senses, and you know that Frank's too much of a
gentleman to do anything.”

I sigh, knowing that she's right.

“Well, it was nice knowing you,” I say solemnly.

“Since we're on the subject, I get your records, right?” She asks, dead serious.

I smack her and she laughs.

I roll my eyes. I have such *wonderful* friends.

*

*Knock. Knock.*

“Someone's at the door,” Gracie murmurs.

I lift my head, wondering who could possibly be knocking.

“Did you lock her out again?” I ask Gracie, referring to the banshee of a girl that Gracie,
Alice, Tiffany, and me are forced to room with.

“No.”

Gracie likes to lock the door sometimes because *she's* never been able to do a simple
unlocking charm without blowing something up. All of us find it extremely amusing to listen to
*her* banging on the door, begging us to open it, and throwing out colorful words and empty
threats. She deserves it, believe me, if you met our roommate you'd probably never let her into
the dorm, ever. Though, come to think of it, she's hasn't been around much lately…

*Knock. Knock.*

I have a strange desire to ask who's there. Instead I tell them to come in.

It's not our *beloved* roommate but my *favorite* Marauder that struts into our
dormitory.

“Hey, Gracie. Hello, Evans,” he says smugly as if he's just broken a particularly tough
school rule.

“James,” Gracie frowns.

Alarms start going off in my head. I gasp, realizing that James is in forbidden territory.

“What are you doing in here?” I exclaim, leaping to my feet.

“I just wanted to-”

“Can't you read? This is the GIRLS' dormitory!” I point out the sign on the door that
clearly says *6th Year Witches*.

Maybe he can't read. It is, after all, in English, and as Gracie and I concluded today, he
doesn't seem to understand what the word “no” means, which is one of the most basic two letter
words in the English language. They should translate it into Troll. Hang on, do Trolls even have a
written language? I don't think they can read.

“Look I only-”

“GET OUT!” I push him toward the door.

“No, wait!” James slams the door shut with his foot, and leans against it.

“What makes you think you can come in here?” I ask, reaching around him for the doorknob.

“I wanted to bring you your books!” James scowls, shoving the stack of books into my chest,
hard. I catch my breath and practically drop the unexpected weight of several Hogwarts textbooks
and various stacks of notes. Luckily James lunges, and together we stop the potential catastrophe
less than a foot before it spills upon the ground.

For a moment, I can feel James's hands over mine, our eyes move from the books to each other
and lock.

“Careful, Evans,” he says softly, taking most of the weight, and helping me up.

“I don't need your help,” I say, shrugging out of his grip and grabbing the books away from
him. “You're not supposed to be in here.” I narrow my eyes.

“I know, but you left your books in the common room and I thought it would be nice if I brought
them to you, since you've been so busy *studying*.” He sends an amused glance in
Gracie's direction who's currently taking a break from cramming for tomorrow's exam,
and is flipping idly through a *Witch Weekly* magazine that was left out.

“I am studying!” Gracie protests.

James raises an eyebrow and I snort.

“I was before—oh, shut up!” Gracie grumbles and continues to read their featured article (“*25
Ways to land the Perfect Wizard*”) instead of opening her Potions textbook.

James and I exchange a look, and perhaps we were having a moment, but then Potter's ego
kicked in and his hand jumped to his hair. He was going into the
“look-I'm-so-unbelievably-sexy-so-why-don't-you-go-out-with-me” mode. He coughs, his voice
becoming deeper.

“So, Evans…” he starts.

“Potter, get out of here before I get the urge to blow something up!”

“Your gratitude is overwhelming,” he says sarcastically; obviously he had been hoping for a
thank-you. A thank-you is the very last thing he deserves. I never thought he would sink this
low.

“These aren't mine!” I throw the books and notes of whoever is his latest flavor of the week
or head of his fan club at him. I don't take Divination!

“They're not?” James catches the books, confusion flooding his face. “But I thought—then
who?” he stammers, trying to make it look like this was actually an accident and not another scheme
to get me to go out with him.

“Hey, guys!” Tiffany chirps coming into the dormitory. “Have you seen my books by any chance?”
She checks under the bed, and then suddenly her face lights up.

“Hey, thanks James!” she grins.

“These - these are yours?” James asks, transferring the books into her arms.

“Yep, thanks, that was so sweet of you to bring them up here!” she laughs and gives him a sloppy
exaggerated kiss on the cheek. Hopping onto her bed, she dumps the books beside her.

“Oh, no problem, just being a gentleman,” James says slowly, though his eyes remain on me.

I snort. Potter and gentleman do not belong in the same sentence.

“I guess I'll...” He grabs the door but hesitates, still watching me.

“I'm thinking of summoning Professor McGonagall,” I threaten.

“I was never here!” James runs out, shutting the door behind him.

I lean against the door snickering.

“How'd he get in?” Gracie asks, looking up from the magazine.

I shrug.

“He's a Marauder, Gracie,” Tiffany answers exasperatedly from her bed.

And strangely enough, this explains everything.

**A/N: Again I apologize for the delay. All I have to do is look over the next chapter and then
I'll have it up next week, I promise! Thanks so much for reviewing and I would sincerely
appreciate your thoughts on this one especially any constructive criticism. Next up, we get to meet
Lily's final room mate!**

-->



12. The Banshee
---------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *I don't own it.* Period

**Chapter Eleven: The Banshee**

“Gracie,” I whisper, sending a fearful glance over my shoulder.

“What?” Gracie asks irritably, leafing through my Potion's notes.

“Make him stop,” I beg, sliding down in my chair in a weak attempt to hide.

“Who?” She stops on a page, hastily scanning the list of ingredients.

“Your cousin!” I hiss.

“Oh, what's he doing?” Gracie asks, barely listening. She's more worried about the
potion's exam we have in twenty minutes that she “forgot” to study for.

“He's staring at me!” I bury my face in my Potion's textbook and attempt to make myself
one with the chair. I almost manage this without slipping out of my chair or falling on the ground.
Perhaps a camouflaging spell would work better?

Gracie sighs, dully looking over her shoulder, confirming my suspicions with a roll of her eyes.
I twist around in my seat, and James immediately grins, curling his fingers into a wave. He blows a
kiss, and I make a rude gesture that sends Sirius into silent convulsions and James into a mock
faint. Remus just shakes his head. Gracie turns me around before I can do anymore damage to
James's *poor* *little* ego.

“Let him be,” she says wisely, dragging me back to my Potion's notes to decipher something
she can't understand.

“But he's so annoying!” I complain, unwilling to let it go.

“Of course he is,” she mutters, patting my arm. “But you're letting him get to you, and
right now, we have bigger things to worry about, like this Potion's exam that I'm going to
fail.”

“I don't know how you keep passing his class.” I frown, slightly miffed that I put in all
the effort and she just reads my notes the night before our exams.

“I shouldn't have but you know Slughorn,” she chuckles. “My mom and dad are high up in the
Ministry and you know that Chris is one of his fav…” Gracie stops suddenly and hastily clears her
throat. She spoke of them in the present tense, as if they were still living. I squeeze her arm,
but Gracie is busy shuffling around my notes.

My eyes wander to the window. Outside the snow has stopped falling. I haven't been outside
yet, though I've been dying to sink my hands into the snow and create a giant snowball. I
already have a target in mind. I smirk, wondering what kind of nasty charms I can add to my early
Christmas present to Potter. Speaking of presents, I still haven't gotten my sister one, not
that the constipated cow deserves it, but I would've liked to get my parents a little something
more. I haven't written to them in a couple of weeks. Now that there's rumors that people
are reading our mail the letters aren't much to look forward to. It's always the weather,
perhaps a mention of Petunia or Dad, and then Mom just repeats that they all miss and love me. I
can't talk, my replies aren't much better. Wouldn't you be a little creeped out and
wary if someone was reading your mail?

They didn't mention anything about Christmas, but obviously I'll be spending it with
them. The question is where? They were moved after those two Dementor Wannabes decided to drop by
for tea with me back in September. This Christmas is going to be so weird. If it wasn't for the
snow and the relief that our Mid Years are almost over, I might question if it really was Christmas
already.

“HELLO! Earth to Lily!”

I blink, recognizing Gracie's hand waving around in front of my face.

“Anybody home?” Gracie asks, desperately trying to get my attention.

“No,” I sigh and stretch out my arms. “What?” I ask, turning to her.

“What are the four main ingredients of the Draught of the Living Death?” She looks up from my
notes hopefully.

I reach over and flip the page, the answer is written in large bold letters.

“Oh,” Gracie says stupidly.

Obviously I'm not the only one whose mind is M.I.A. today.

“I'm going to fail!” she whimpers, dropping her head into her hands.

“No you're not,” I reassure her. “Slughorn has a soft spot for you, especially since your
parents - I mean…” I fumble for words, but Gracie pretends not to notice and interrupts with
another lament.

“Why didn't I study?”

“I guess you found *Witch Weekly* a lot more interesting. I believe you looked through that
magazine for three hours, before falling asleep, and then sleeping through your wake up call, and
then flirting with him at breakfast-”

“Okay, I get it!” Gracie throws up her arms, surrendering. “I could've studied, but it's
so boring,” she moans, laying her head on the table.

“Tough luck, that's Potions.” I glance at the watch that Gracie “borrowed” from one of her
exes over a year ago and realize how little time we have left to get to class.

“And I wasn't flirting with him!” Gracie says indignantly, but her reaction was delayed by
at least a full minute.

“Sure you weren't Gracie,” I laugh, helping her gather up the books and notes that she threw
all over the table.

“I would never date Sirius Black!” she splutters, her face contorting in disgust. “That's
like dating James, except minus a brain, the whole blood related thing, quidditch skills, and table
manners.”

“I can't believe you just said that James Potter had a brain and table manners!” I gasp,
completely disagreeing with this theory.

“We're related Lily, I have to give James some credit,” Gracie defends her cousin.

“You have a point,” I admit reluctantly.

“I always do darling,” Gracie drawls, imitating the banshee roommate, with a conceited flick of
her hair and a plastic smile.

I laugh and link arms with my best friend.

“Let's go fail our exam!” Gracie says eagerly, gaining a bounce in her step. Sometimes I
wonder if she's missing a marble or two.

“Speak for yourself,” I snort.

“Ah, that's right. I forgot you inhale books, and study during every waking minute,” Gracie
teases.

“I do not!” I protest.

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

Bantering and laughing, the two of us rush off to meet impending doom. Well actually, just
Gracie, since I actually studied, a lot, not every waking minute, but enough so that I would feel
rather confident about myself and did not have to cram like Gracie. You never know Gracie might get
lucky. Slughorn might lose his head and ask for the 25 ways to land the perfect wizard.

Okay, probably not. But wishful thinking never hurts.

*

“Turn in your flasks if you haven't already and you may go.” Professor Slughorn dismisses
the class with a cheery wave of his hand.

“Finally I'm free!” Gracie laughs and races out of the dungeon.

I grab my books and run after her, asking myself, not for the first time, if Gracie's
playing with a full deck. I follow her up the steps, rising out of the cold and the dark, smelly
Slytherinish corridors that still bare the faint scent of the Draught of the Living Death, rushing
up to greet the lighted halls slowly filling with excited students.

I catch up to Gracie before she gets swallowed by a group of gibbering Hufflepuffs.

“I think I passed Lily!” She grins, laughing again in relief. “And that's the last one. No
homework, no exams, no teachers for a whole week!” She skips off, humming a Christmas tune.

I don't remember the last time she was this happy, it's almost like old times. Gracie
always loved Christmas. But still, she seems a little…over enthusiastic. It's almost as if
it's forced. An act perhaps? I shake my head, wondering where I come up with these strange
ideas. There's nothing wrong with Gracie being happy, and it is in fact Christmas. Still, I
can't help myself from inquiring if she's alright.

“I'm fine, no I'm wonderful!” She grins so widely that I fear her face might split in
two.

“Oooh, somebody must've gotten laid!” a voice giggles.

The sound of a deceivingly innocent high-pitched, maddeningly annoying, laugh wipes the smile
off of Gracie's face. My body goes rigid, and I bite my tongue preparing myself to face… the
*banshee*.

“Oh hello Debby!” I gush with false enthusiasm.

“Hello Lily. So Grace, who's the lucky guy that gave you that spring in your step?
What'd you have to do, take polyjuice potion?” Debby, actually it's Deborah, flashes us a
blinding white smile that never reaches her cat like golden eyes.

There's no question, she's pretty and she knows it. With her flawless figure, dark skin,
silky black hair and the ample bosom that draws the gaze of nearly every male in the entire school,
she could easily steal the beautiful people title from James and Sirius. But Debby has an itsy
bitsy problem; she's easy. She sleeps with everyone, well, not the females, though I did hear
rumors… Gracie was hoping that we could use them to kick her out of our dorm, but we only got a
lousy charm to keep her from bringing guys back to the dorm. I almost hope that I do get the Head
Girl badge next year, at least then I won't have to share a room with her anymore.

“Contrary to your belief, you do not need to get laid in order to be happy, and you do not need
to take polyjuice potion in order to get laid,” Gracie retorts, not even making an effort to act
pleasant, let alone civil. “Though we obviously can't say the same for *you*,” she adds,
just loud enough for Debby to hear.

“That's funny Grace, but we all know that I'm drop-dead-gorgeous, though you
unfortunately... Well, you could be pretty if you didn't chop off all your hair, but you'd
have to dye it, and well you'd have to get a whole new body. Oh, and probably your face has to
go too, you know, it's just not that easy on the eyes,” she says, surveying Gracie with a
critical eye. Gracie's face flushes, and she twitches. I pinch Gracie's arm reminding her
that she's not worth it, even though I can see clearly that Gracie's about ready to beat
her to a pulp.

“And how would you know? You just admitted that you're sixteen and still a virgin! What are
you waiting for marriage? Have you even snogged a guy?” Debby giggles again as Gracie steps forward
and whips out her wand.

“Shut your trap McLaggen!”

I look over Debby's head and find a glowering James Potter. Debby stumbles back a step and
immediately stops giggling. Her smile though, stays fixed in place. I swear it's been plastered
on there since birth. Gracie keeps her wand pointed at Debby, barely acknowledging her cousin.

“James! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, it's scary!” Debby scolds, placing
one hand on his chest and wagging a finger at him as if he were a naughty toddler.

“You shouldn't insult people, it's rude,” James snaps, brushing her hand off his chest,
as if it were slime.

“I don't insult people James, I'm a sweet lovable person who tells people the truth,”
Debby says dramatically, acting as if she's some sort of martyr.

I bite the inside of my cheek trying not to laugh. Debby McLaggen is about as far from being
sweet and lovable as dementors are from being angels. She grabs onto James's arm, looking up
into his face with an angelic, dead serious expression, and I realize that she actually believes
every word that comes out of her mouth.

“I know you're sticking up for you cousin, James, and that's very kind. In fact it's
a real turn on. Anyway, I love Grace, she's one of my best friends.”

This time I actually do laugh out loud.

“But we can't keep lying to her. She's not pretty, by any stretch of the imagination. I
mean sure she has an alright figure. She plays quidditch like all the time, it's like unhealthy
how much she plays. But it's a man's sport, you know? Muscles are great on men. You, James,
have some *excellent* muscles, but on a female it's disgusting and manly. It's not her
fault of course, her genes, her parents, I saw their picture and they weren't very-”

“*Silencio*!”

“*Petrificus Totalus*!” I shout, letting go of a struggling Gracie who immediately fires
upon the girl as well as James. Several spells, seemingly too many for three people, hit her head
on.

And *CRACK*!

I lower my wand slowly and join Gracie, James, and Sirius (who appeared out of nowhere) by the
motionless Debby, stretched out upon the floor.

“Nice going Lily,” James says, patting me on the back.

“I take it the silencing charm was yours?” I look up at him. James nods sheepishly.

“I bet you didn't want to maim her in any way, you know you might ruin such a pretty
specimen of the female gender,” I grumble, recalling the many times James flirted with Debby over
the last five years, though come to think of it, I can't recall anything recent.

“Actually no, it was merely the first spell that popped into my head. All I kept thinking of was
how to shut her up.” He looks genuinely hurt by my accusation, and I kind of feel bad, not really
though. He deserved that comment.

“Who punched her?” Sirius asks, whistling in admiration.

“Me,” Gracie answers, flexing her right hand.

“Good shot,” Sirius tells her.

“Thanks!” Gracie grins at him.

“I would've done it myself, but I was a little late getting here and basically missed the
whole conversation,” Sirius admits sadly. Still, it didn't seem to have stopped him from
getting in a spell or two.

“Who gave her boils?” I ask.

“Me obviously,” a familiar voice says cheerfully.

Tiffany and Remus come forward, both looking a little guilty, as they claim their spell
work.

“I was going for pimples, or a skin rash, but boils was the best I could do,” Tiffany sighs,
kicking Debby.

“And the green hair and clown shoes?” I raise an eyebrow at this one.

“Unoriginal and silly, but I came in with Sirius and had no idea what was going on,” Remus
admits with a shy smile.

“That still doesn't explain the facial hair and the antlers.”

“The beard I did,” Gracie says, but she looks puzzled. “The antlers though…”

“That little-” A string of colorful curse words greets our ears as the tall, well built, seventh
year, not to mention female, Hufflepuff Quidditch captain appears beside us. Dorcas Meadows looks
far from happy.

“What the hell is she going on about saying that Quidditch is a man's sport! Who does she
think she is making false claims like that? I have three amazing players and they're all
females! Hufflepuff's best chaser was a female, and they say that Helga Hufflepuff herself
invented the sport!”

I'm not so sure about that one.

“Gracie's good, darn good at Quidditch, and that's coming from an opponent's
perspective. And Gryffindor, her own house, isn't there two other girls on the team? And
Ravenclaw I think at one point they were all girls… Heck, even Slytherin has a girl on their team!
Ms. Debby McLaggen is going down! I'm going to tell everyone what she said, that little-”

Dorcas disappears as quickly as she appeared, stomping off to spread the word. The six of us
look at each other. I couldn't be happier. There's got to be at least eleven or so females
in all, perhaps more and if they all gain up on her. I could sing right now, seriously. Dorcas is a
true Hufflepuff, loyal to her word, sport, and gender, and as soon as they hear what she has to say
they're going to beat the crap out of little Ms. Debby McLaggen.

I start laughing.

Gracie looks at me, still a little steamed, and then suddenly she breaks out laughing too. James
grins like a maniac, Sirius snickers, Tiffany giggles, and Remus suppresses a laugh.

“Come on let's go before a teacher catches us,” James says, slinging an arm around Gracie
and me. He nods to the others and we start back for the Gryffindor tower leaving an unrecognizable
Debby McLaggen, sprawled on her back in the middle of the second floor corridor.

I catch my breath as we arrive back in the Gryffindor common room. James throws himself down on
the sofa, pulling Gracie and me with him. Tiffany flops down in an armchair, and Sirius and Remus
make themselves at home on the floor at our feet.

“I think you broke her nose Gracie!” Tiffany cackles.

I snicker thinking about the drama that will most certainly ensue now that Debby's precious
face has been disfigured.

“I reckon you're right, that was one incredibly lucky punch you had Gracie,” Sirius
remarks.

“Lucky? Would you like me to show you Black just how lucky I am?” Gracie says, cracking her
knuckles with a menacing grin.

“Sure, I could take you any day,” Sirius yawns.

“Is that a challenge Black?” Gracie asks, jumping up from the sofa.

“Maybe,” Sirius smirks, standing up as well.

Both of them put up their fists, going into a boxer stance. It's funny to see the two of
them, raven haired and tall, with an athletic gracefulness that has nothing to do with her name.
Neither one is entirely serious, and there's something playful even, dare I say it, flirty
about the way that they start dancing around each other.

Gracie shakes back her hair, which now brushes her shoulders. The day after we returned to
Hogwarts she begged Tiffany to help her chop it all off. We all argued with her, but Gracie
confided in me that the hair had to go because every time she looked in the mirror she saw a face
that was becoming more and more like her mother's. After the confession I immediately told
Tiffany to do whatever Gracie told her to do, forget style, no questions asked. As a result of
this, Gracie hasn't had a boyfriend and has been nobly enduring the teasing of Ms. Debby
McLaggen.

“Give me your best shot Black!” Gracie taunts, shadow boxing.

Sirius punches, but he gets nothing but air, as Gracie ducks. Eyes locked, wearing identical
grins, they circle. It's déjà vu, except last time Gracie was murderous, out for blood was an
understatement, and Sirius was sorely losing.

Remus and James root for Sirius, and Tiffany and I cheer for Gracie. I would love to sit back
and really enjoy this, (Tiffany and Remus are placing bets) but there's a tiny problem
that's weighing upon my chest, literally. I try to discreetly move but every time I pull away,
James seems to come closer. He's rooting for Sirius, but mysteriously the arm wrapped around my
shoulder and the hand lazily brushing against my chest, stay where they are as if Potter's
suddenly lost feeling on that side of the body. How *odd*. It may be my imagination, but it
seems that whenever I try to move, his hold on me gets tighter.

“Potter?”

“Aw, come on Sirius you're slacking! What is it Lily?” he asks, eyes following the boxing
match.

“Um, nothing personal, but can you move your arm?” I ask, trying to be nice in the spirit of the
things, even though he's definitely trying to feel me up. In fact he couldn't make it more
obvious. Smooth, Potter, real smooth. If it wasn't for the fact that you stood up for Gracie
and are temporarily on my good side, I would have you hanging from the ceiling by your
toenails.

“What? Pick up the pace Sirius!”

“You know what,” I lower my voice and hiss in his ear, “Get your arm off of me before I-”

“Professor McGonagall!” Sirius gasps.

He missed punching the professor by mere inches.

“Mr. Black, you're going to pay dearly for that!” The Transfiguration Professor leans
against the wall, clutching her heart. All of us freeze, watching in fear as our head of house, not
to mention our strictest teacher, simmers with anger, slowly reaching the boiling point.

“Professor it was an accident!” Sirius protests.

“He's right, professor! He was aiming for me!” Gracie exclaims.

“Mr. Black is this true?” Professor McGonagall still looks furious, though the explosion seems
to have been temporarily stalled. “Were you trying to hit Ms. Adams?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“You were about to intentionally punch your fellow Gryffindor? A Slytherin I can see, but Ms.
Adams? She's our seeker!”

Immediately Gracie and Sirius realize what this implies and start talking extremely fast at the
same time.

“No, it's not what you think!”

“We were only playing!”

“We weren't really trying to punch each other!”

“Well, we were…”

“But we're just fooling, you know, just having fun?”

“Yea, I wouldn't want to mar her face, seriously professor, that's like wrecking the
Mona Lisa. Besides, James and Lily would have my head.”

“And Sirius would totally kill me if I screwed up his hair in any way. Just think of what his
fan club would do to me!”

Professor McGonagall's eyes jump from one to the other, trying her best, but failing to
comprehend exactly what they're saying since they're talking so fast, over each other, and
at the same time.

“STOP TALKING!” she shouts, unable to take it anymore.

Sirius and Gracie fall silent.

“Is this true, Ms. Adams, you were only…horsing around?” she asks Gracie.

Gracie nods and Professor McGonagall murmurs something about “immaturity”, but the storm has
passed and both remain unpunished.

“It's a good thing that I'm a lot younger than I look, that was a close miss Mr. Black,
very close.”

“Don't I know it!” Sirius breathes a sigh of relief.

“But since you didn't actually punch me, I can not punish you. Ms. Evans, before I was
nearly assaulted by your fellow Gryffindor, I had the intention of delivering this to you,”
Professor McGonagall suddenly addresses me, holding out a scroll to me. “I suggest you act upon it
immediately,” she says, seriously.

I stand up and accept the scroll. What's this? But before I can ask, the Professor leaves
with a final glare at Sirius. “I'll be keeping an eye on you Black.” I hear her say as the
portrait closes behind her.

“Nice one Gracie!” Sirius says sarcastically.

“That was your own fault, honestly, I was WAY over there. You weren't even aiming in the
right direction.” Gracie crosses her arms over her chest.

“That's because you cheat!” Sirius accuses.

“I do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“What's that you've got Lily?” James asks curiously.

Immediately all eyes turn to me.

“I don't know,” I admit. “But I guess I better open it, Professor McGonagall acted as if it
was urgent.”

I break the seal and slowly unravel the small note. James peers over my shoulder and I stand up
to get away from him. He stands up with me, moving a lot quicker than me.

“Is your name Ms. Lily Evans?” I ask, pressing the note to my chest.

“No.” James grins.

“Well than, you can't read it.” I turn my back on him and this time he keeps his
distance.

“That never stopped you from reading my mail,” James says slyly.

I whip around, cheeks flushing as the others look stunned by this revelation, especially since
I'm not denying it.

“That was a completely different situation!” I snap.

But that doesn't stop James from ripping it out of my hands. The note tears in half, as I
pull away with half of the page still intact. I gasp, looking down at the small half of paper that
James left me.

*Please come to my office* It stops there, thanks to the insufferable brat that has the
other half.

“I would like to speak to you for a-” James reads.

*moment.*

*Al*

“bus Dumbledore. I'll be waiting-”

*for you at the statue of the gargoyle.*

“That's it! I was hoping it would be a scandalous love letter, the way you were trying to
keep it secret,” James says, disappointed by this boring summoning from the Headmaster and tossing
the other half away.

“James, be reasonable, Professor McGonagall delivered it.” Gracie rolls her eyes.

“So? That would just make it even more secret. It could be a code! McGonagall could be the
unintentional messenger of cryptic notes between Lily and her forbidden lover. Or maybe Lily and
her fellow spies!”

I snort, smacking James upside the head on my way out. Sometimes the imagination of that boy
frightens me.

I have to admit, I am a bit nervous. What could Dumbledore possibly want to see me about?
I've only been to his office once (other than that time with Gracie's parents and the
mysterious girl that Gracie couldn't bear to part with), and that was when Potter and his pals
thought it would be hilarious to frame me and Gracie for one of their biggest pranks. Oh yea, Filch
found it so funny, that he brought us up to Dumbledore's office, going on and on about how we
were going to be expelled for sure. Being a mere third year, I was terrified, and hardly remember
anything about the trip except that Dumbledore was more amused than angry and believed Gracie when
she told him it wasn't us.

Perhaps it has to do with Prefect duties. That doesn't make sense because Remus would have
been asked to come as well, not that he's much help, but he is after all still a prefect.

Or maybe…

Oh no! I stop in my tracks wondering if I should turn around and pretend that Professor
McGonagall actually did get punched and was unable to deliver the letter. Or perhaps I could say
that James completely shredded it thinking it really was secret information from a spy. Stupid
McLaggen, why didn't I do something about her? I should've put an untraceable charm on her
or at least done something to hide her! But why am I the only one who's getting in trouble?

“Hello, Ms. Evans. I knew you'd have no trouble finding my office.” An old grey bearded man,
dressed in a bright blue wizarding hat and matching blue robes, stands beside a clearly noticeable
statue of a gargoyle that I very nearly walked past. Unknowingly, I arrived at the entrance of the
Headmaster's office.

Nervously, I mumble a hello back to Professor Dumbledore.

“Come, follow me. It will only take a moment, I promise.”

Do I have a choice? I get on the moving staircase behind him. We step off the staircase, and
meekly I follow him into the office. Immediately my eyes move from the hundreds of portraits of
slumbering elderly former headmasters and headmistresses, to the various, strange whirring shiny
metal instruments, and finally onto the beautiful phoenix, perched on the far end of
Dumbledore's desk.

“Sit down,” he says, gesturing to one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk. I sit down
helplessly, stealing a quick look at his face before focusing on the dark glittering eyes of the
elegant fiery colored bird beside him.

He doesn't look mad, but then again he doesn't look amused either.

“His name is Fawkes,” Professor Dumbledore says softly, noticing where my attention has
wandered.

“He's beautiful.” And I'm not just trying to butter the Headmaster up here, that's
something the Marauders would do, not me. If you ever saw a phoenix, trust me, you'd probably
think that beautiful was not corny, but maybe in fact an understatement.

“Ms. Evans, there's something I think we have to discuss.” Professor Dumbledore seems
reluctant to stray from the topic of his beloved pet, almost as reluctant as I am.

Oh no, here it comes. I can't say I'm sorry for what I did, because I'm not, but
then again it wasn't all me. I wouldn't rat them out though. I am a Gryffindor, though the
Marauders and Gracie will clearly be disappointed that I got all the credit.

“She deserved it!” I blurt out.

“Excuse me?” Professor Dumbledore looks as if this wasn't exactly what he was expecting me
to say so since I already blew it, I plow onwards.

“She was making fun of Gracie and the female quidditch players, and then she even sunk so low as
to talk about her parents-”

“I'm going to pretend that I don't know what you're talking about Ms. Evans, because
I came here to discuss *your* parents, not Ms. McLaggen's mysterious accident,” Professor
Dumbledore interrupts, clearly amused by this uncalled for confession.

“Oh!” I blush furiously and resist the strong urge to crawl underneath the desk and hide. Why am
I such an idiot? Now I'm in trouble.

“Ms. McLaggen is going to be fine. I'm sure you were only inquiring about that. Weren't
you Ms. Evans?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“Of course,” I exhale. “I mean thank god, I was really worried!” I add hastily, playing
along.

“That's what I thought you said.”

I have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from laughing out loud. There's no way Dumbledore
believes this, but if he's going to pretend to have forgotten the fact that Gracie, Tiffany,
Alice, and I hate our room mate and have done everything in our power to get rid of her, than I am
certainly not going to deny it.

“You said something about my parents?” I ask, trying to change the subject before I start
laughing uncontrollably and give Dumbledore no choice but to give me detention.

“Yes,” he sighs.

I look up and notice that the twinkle's gone from his eyes.

“Lily, I'm afraid you can't go home for the Holidays,” he says, folding his hands.

“Of course I can't. They were moved, right?” I frown.

Dumbledore looks at me sadly over the top of his spectacles as if I'm naïve, as if I
don't understand.

“Yes, they were, but Lily, for the sake of your safety and theirs, I think it would be best if
you didn't visit your family.”

*

I walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room in a daze. I can't go home. I can't visit my
parents for another six months, and even then… I shake my head, trying to ignore the empty feeling
in my stomach. It's safer this way, they'll be fine. I give the Fat Lady the password and
enter the Gryffindor Common Room.

I'm surprised to find the Common Room empty, save for a group of four, huddled close to the
fire having a whispered argument. They all must have gone down to the Great Hall to eat. Funny, a
little while ago I was starving, but suddenly I've lost my appetite.

I recognize the three heads full of black hair and one with sandy brown hair, bent together in
front of the flames. Wearily, I make my way over to them, mildly surprised that none of them have
made it down to dinner yet. The three Marauders and Gracie are so wrapped up in the whispered
discussion, that none of them notice as I sit down silently on the floor in between Gracie and
James's chairs.

“Is this true?” James asks Remus and Gracie.

“Of course it's true!” Gracie whispers angrily, and Remus shifts his weight and gives a
reluctant nod.

“You heard this from Ophelia?” Sirius asks incredulously.

“Yes, she said that-” But James cuts Gracie off.

“Ophelia's hardly credible-”

“Credible? She's a raving lunatic!” Sirius butts in.

“They do have a point,” I admit quietly.

All four of them look a little startled, when they at last look down and find me sitting
comfortably on the floor between Gracie and James's chairs.

“She's engaged to Lovegood, you know the guy that runs Quibbler? She showed me the ring last
week, so she must be a little crazy, though she seems happy, so I suppose that's all that
matters, right?” I look up at them, and they nod hesitantly, scrutinizing me with their eyes.
They're trying to figure out how much I overheard, I realize.

“That's great!” Gracie finally says enthusiastically.

“What were you saying about her anyway?” I ask curiously.

Their eyes dart away from me, all except for Gracie, who looks as if she's holding back a
smile.

“Remus and I were waiting for you the other day, after the Prefect meeting, but you were kind of
busy telling James off. Anyway, Ophelia came out, and I don't know how we got to talking, but
she said that-”

“It doesn't matter what she said, it's not fact, Gracie, and we already determined that
the girl's not exactly mentally stable,” James interrupts hastily.

“She belongs in St. Mungos!” Sirius snorts.

“Just because she's a little odd, it doesn't mean she's bound for the mental ward!”
Gracie tosses a glare at Sirius, and storms out of the room.

Sirius laughs and follows her out, but James lingers with Remus and I, staring after Gracie with
a worried look on his face. I look up hopefully at Remus, but he shrugs helplessly.

“I'll see you two at dinner,” Remus sighs, heading after the two, probably to make sure that
Sirius doesn't do anymore damage.

“What happened?” I ask James.

He sits back down, smiling sadly at me.

“Oh, you know how Ophelia can get. She wasn't having one of her lucid moments and told
Gracie and Remus something.” He shakes his head sorrowfully.

“Poor Gracie, now she's got her hopes up. I don't blame her, I wish…” he trails off,
leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes.

“What?” I ask quietly, settling myself in Gracie's vacant chair beside him.

“Nothing,” James chuckles softly, and it's clear that despite how badly I want to ask him
what she told Gracie, he's not going to answer.

I stare into the hypnotizing flames, dancing and flickering, changing from shades of violet to
red and yellow. Immediately my mind travels back to the conversation that I had with Dumbledore. I
came so close to losing my parents in September but we were lucky, unlike Gracie and her family.
What's the point though, if I can't even visit them? I might never see Mom or Dad
again…

Ten or so minutes must've passed before James opened his eyes and nudged me.

“What'd Dumbledore have to see you about?” It's as if he's reading my mind. Then
again, after the note incident, he's probably just being nosy.

I turn and look at him.

“My parents.”

James's face falls, and he grabs my hand fearfully.

“They're not-”

“No they're not dead.” Relief floods his face, and I give a tiny laugh which turns into a
choked sob.

“Then why are you crying?” he asks, reaching up and wiping at the tears that I hadn't even
noticed were starting to form in my eyes.

I pull away and swipe at them angrily with my sleeve. Lily, you're a Gryffindor for
Merlin's sake, not a first year Hufflepuff!

“I can't visit them anymore,” I tell him in a tremulous voice, staring determinedly into the
flames, even as my vision continues to go in and out of focus.

“Is this because of what happened after my Aunt and Uncle died?” James asks in a strained
voice.

“Perhaps,” I whisper, burying my face into my hands to hide the tears that won't stop
coming.

I hate myself, why do I have to cry? Especially in front of Potter of all people! I feel his
hand on my back, gently rubbing in slow circles. It's soothing and comforting, and I remember
the days when it felt like all the world had been destroyed and it was just James and I clinging to
each other in some desperate hope that by holding onto each other we might be able to bring it all
back.

“Lily, look at me,” he says softly, gently pulling my head up and out of my hands.

Again I tug down my sleeves mop up my tear streaked face.

“I'm such a silly wimp. Gracie lost her parents, and I'm wailing and lamenting about not
being able to see mine for one lousy Christmas,” I sniff, giving him a watery smile.

“Shhh,” he whispers, brushing a few strands of hair away from my face and tucking it behind my
ears.

I think the hat must've made a mistake. I don't belong in Gryffindor with my strong,
brave best friend, or James who picks me up off the floor once more despite the fact that I've
never known the troubles that he has. I'm such a coward, selfishly fearing loss and loneliness
when my parents are still living and breathing thanks to these precautions.

“I'm such a baby!” I growl, disappointed in myself.

“No, you're not,” he whispers, stroking my cheek. “You're one of the bravest people I
know.”

“No,” I shake my head, but James grabs my face, freezing it between his two warm hands, forcing
me to look into his sad hazel eyes.

“Lily, I know what you did to those two intruders. They wanted to kill you, and you fought them
off rather than leave the empty house.”

“If you remember correctly I kind of couldn't leave.” I take his hands off of my face,
holding them in my own.

“That was my fault,” James says, looking angrily down at our hands, as if he blames himself.

“But if you hadn't showed up James, I would've died,” I add, squeezing his hands and
then letting them slip from mine.

“I think you were doing a find job taking care of yourself,” James smiles, tucking another stray
strand of hair behind my ear.

“Minus the fact that I would've been strangled to death, right?” I grin and James does too,
even though there's nothing comical about it. I guess it's a sort of dark, morbid kind of
humor, one that I'm getting used too. Even when the world goes dark, comedy never dies.

“You would've gotten yourself out,” James says confidently.

“With my supersonic, telepathic, telekinetic, yet to be discovered powers of course,” I
quip.

James laughs.

“Actually, I was just playing the damsel in distress role. The whole time I was faking it,
waiting for my white knight in shining armor. But the funny thing is that he never showed up.
Instead this bloke called Potter, threw a vase at me-”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Sure you were.”

“You would've done the same thing!”

“No Potter, I would've pulled a Gracie and thrown you in an ice cold shower.”

The two of us share a laugh and then trail off into silence. James leans toward me, laying his
arm on my arm rest.

“You hungry?” he inquires.

“I'm afraid I lost my appetite a while ago,” I sigh.

“Yeah, me too,” James agrees.

Suddenly, I hear a growling noise, and both of us look down at his stomach.

“Right,” I say sarcastically.

“Oh alright, maybe I'm a tiny bit hungry,” James admits sheepishly. His stomach growls
again, louder this time. I giggle and James grins. “Okay, maybe I'm famished.”

“You're always hungry!” I roll my eyes, typical guy. He's almost as bad as Sirius, I
said almost.

“What can I say? I'm a growing boy.” James gives me the all too famous Potter grin, with a
slight shrug of the shoulders. I chuckle. He can be so cute at times. That is, when he's not
trying to slide his hand up my skirt, or ask me out for the one millionth three hundred and fifty
fifth time.

“You're sixteen,” I point out.

“I'll be seventeen in forty nine days.” James stands up drawing himself up to his full
height and puffing out his chest.

“That just makes it worse,” I mutter trying hard not to notice how tall he is, or how good
quidditch has been to his body. He's a jerk Lily, no matter how good his body looks right now,
or how nice he was to you… STOP STARING! I blink, and force myself to laugh at the ridiculous but
flattering pose that he's struck.

“Come on you're too skinny. You need food.” James grabs me by the arm, gently tugging me to
my feet.

“I guess I'm a little hungry, and they're probably wondering where we are…” I say
hesitantly, allowing him to guide me to the portrait.

“I know, imagine the horror if they found you talking to me. It might ruin your reputation!”
James gasps dramatically holding the portrait open for me.

“That's not true,” I climb through the portrait and wait for him.

“Then why won't you go out with me?” James asks quietly, looking down at me with his blazing
hazel eyes.

My tongue gets stuck, and I'm mysteriously at a loss for words. There are a lot of reasons
why I won't go out with you James.

First, you're a selfish git. You feel me up, ask me out a hundred times a week, stare at me
in class, embarrass me, and scare off other guys who might be interested in me. You're so into
yourself that you can't stop to think of how I might actually feel.

Second, you're not my type. You're obsessive, stalkerish, selfish, arrogant, not very
smart (well he does have a brain but he's not exactly studious), troublesome, a Marauder, star
quidditch player, popular, and not to mention drop dead sexy (Um, where'd that come from?).
You're certainly NOT the white knight, my Prince Charming. (Who I might add, is extremely late,
but he's coming, I'm sure he's on his way, just give him some time to make his grand
entrance.)

And finally, I can see myself falling hard for you and you just tossing me aside when you're
finished with me. I'd be a mere challenge, a bet that you made with yourself that you'd
finally won. I'd just be another person giving the spoiled brat exactly what he wanted, and I
will never give in. *Never*. Even if he can be sweet at times, even if he does actually have a
different side of him that I actually could fall in love with, even though there is more to James
Potter than I expected, even though I almost said yes, even though he proved me wrong, caught me
when I fell, held me when I cried, and helped me to my feet. There will always be that chance, that
I might be just another conquest, Lily Evans, the first girl that ever told him no.

“I'll never go out with you because you'd hurt me,” I whisper, turning away.

James is stunned, or maybe he's only confused (you know he has trouble with the whole
English language concept). He can't seem to understand. I was almost to the stairs when he
finally caught up to me.

“Lily! Wait!” He grabs my arm, yanking me back.

“Let go of me James!” I say automatically, my free hand robotically trying to pry his fingers
off of my wrist.

“I would never hurt you Lily, never!” he says hoarsely, touching my face. His eyes are so
intense, his hand so gentle on my cheek. I close my eyes for a second, one second, savoring the
moment. If only it wasn't Potter, the selfish git who continues to believe that the universe
revolves around him, despite the fact that Hogwarts, though it may feel like it, is not the heart
of our planet, let alone galaxy.

I open my eyes.

“How many of them actually believed that?” I ask with a sad smile. He tells all the girls this.
I know he does.

James opens his mouth, but I don't want to hear it, I'm sick and tired of this, of him,
of everything.

“Let go of me Potter.” I look away, wearily tugging at my arm.

James releases me without question, and I take the opportunity to run down the staircase.
It's my lucky day, because before James can set foot on it, it starts to move. James looks as
if he might jump, and for a second I fear that the idiot might. But a moment later, he stumbles
backwards, and finds me watching him. Quickly I turn around, determinedly waiting for the staircase
to arrive at it's next destination, which I know will bring me to the Great Hall five minutes
faster even if he runs or uses one of the secret shortcuts that the Marauders spent all their time
hunting for as naïve, innocent first years.

“Lily you're different! You're different from all of them!” he calls after me.

His voice fades away as I step off the staircase, and hurry off toward the Great Hall. I smile
sadly because a part of me wishes it was true.

**A/N: Thanks to everyone that reviewed the last chapter! I updated early because of you guys!
I'd love to hear** **your thoughts so please review and I'll do my best to update next
week!** **Next up** **Christmas Break!**

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13. Homecoming
--------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *Alice's shoe belongs to me.*

**Chapter 12: Homecoming**

The Sixth Year Gryffindor Girl's Dormitory has been transformed into a war zone. Clothes are
scattered all over the room, the beds are unmade and stray objects litter the floor. If it
wasn't for the fact that there's so much feminine apparel and products crowding the rug, (I
can't even see it anymore) I might ask myself if I had walked into the Boy's dormitory.
Gracie and Tiffany run around the room, tripping and stumbling over clothes and books. Alice is
over near my bed doing a weird sort of jig as if she's some sort of Irish Step Dancer on
drugs.

“My shoe! I can't find my shoe!” Alice wails, hopping around on one foot. Alice's always
losing things.

I look around in amusement, watching as Alice climbs under Tiffany's bed in search of the
elusive shoe. On the other side of the room, Gracie and Tiffany do a frenzied packing job that they
left off to the last minute. Tiffany overslept, and Gracie, though she was up long before all of
us, is a huge procrastinator. Of course, I, being the organized one, started packing two days ago.
I can't help but smile a little smugly.

“Lily, have you seen my cloak?” Alice asks desperately, after finding the shoe. She rummages
through Gracie's half filled trunk in search of the missing cloak.

“No. Sorry, Alice.”

Someone bangs on the door and I jump up to get it.

“Housekeeping!” a freckled faced girl jokes.

I roll my eyes at Mary Pewter, the Gryffindor who received the Head Girl badge instead of
Ophelia. Mary adjusts her spectacles, squinting as she steps a little closer to get a look at the
room. Hastily, I try to fill the doorway with my small figure by spreading out all of my limbs. I
wish I could save my friend's from the lecture that will surely ensue, but I know that even as
I close the door that there's no escaping once Mary puts her mind to something. Mary's
frown indicates that she already witnessed the disaster zone, that only hours ago was actually,
believe it or not, our dorm.

“Good golly! What happened? Did a volcano erupt?” Mary asks, staring at the closed door.

“Er, not quite,” I laugh nervously. “Don't worry, we're finished, just making sure we
didn't forget anything,” I lie through my teeth.

Mary stares at me and then shakes her head.

“Better you than me, the train leaves in exactly ten minutes, I thought for sure that everyone
was done, but apparently some people, won't mention any names, *sixth years,* had more
important things to do.” She walks away, rapping on the Fifth Year Girl's dormitory, which
I'm thrilled to notice, looks much worse than ours.

“The train leaves in ten,” I tell them, stepping back inside. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Tiffany and Gracie chorus. Tiffany's yanking at her hair, asking us if she's
forgotten something. Gracie sits on top of her overflowing trunk trying to close it. Merlin, why
are they taking so much stuff home?

“We have to leave NOW!” I sigh exasperatedly.

I point my wand at Gracie's trunk and it immediately closes, though a couple of sleeves and
pant legs hang out. Gracie whines until I correct this comical mistake. Finally we're able to
convince Tiffany that she hasn't forgotten anything, and start for the door.

“My cloak!” Alice moans, dancing around as if she has to go to the bathroom.

“*Accio* Alice's Cloak!” I summon the cloak.

Gracie grabs the cloak, which came hurdling through the door as if it had been left out in the
common room or maybe, no, but she's blushing! There's no time for theories though and we
hurry out of the room before Alice can realize that she's lost something else.

Debby McLaggen, conveniently couldn't come out of the Infirmary until we were at breakfast
this morning. Alice explained, with a smirk, that it was because she's afraid that her nose is
still broken, despite Madam Pomfrey's excellent mending skills. Typically vain, conceited,
shallow McLaggen, at least we didn't have to deal with her. Alice looks a lot healthier now, as
we step onto the train. I notice how a mysterious rosy glow fills her cheeks as Frank immediately
takes her things (accidentally dropping it on some poor second year's feet) and then offers her
his hand to help her up onto the train. I don't dare laugh, or make any assumptions of any
kind, because Alice gives me a warning look as if reading my mind. A few strands of my hair are
still an extremely ugly shade of green. (Payback for when I sent her to the hospital wing with
Frank.)

Not too far away the infamous Gryffindor gang stands, no doubt planning to go out with a bang. I
only hope they don't try to blow up the train while I'm still on it.

“Let's get a compartment,” Gracie says quickly, meeting my eyes and knowing what I'm
thinking.

Since Alice totally ditched us for lover boy, the three of us get on the train (managing the
step fine), and locate an empty compartment not too far down the train, which, much to my chagrin,
happens to have a wonderful view of the Marauders who are still standing huddled outside on the
snowy platform.

“You're so lucky to be able to spend the holidays with the Marauders and your best friend!”
Tiffany sighs, wistfully eyeing the laughing boys outside.

“I think I'd rather be spending it with my family,” I say sadly.

The other night I told Tiffany, Gracie and Alice what Dumbledore had wanted to see me about.

“*Oh I would invite you, but, I'm um, I'm going to visit Frank* *for a few days,
but if you want…**” Alice mumbled, blushing (though they were only best friends). But I had
received my green hair only recently and wasn't about to make a comment, though Gracie looked
strongly tempted.*

“*It's alright**,* *Alice**. I think I'll just stay here. I**t
won't be so bad you know…” I trailed off sadly. I had never spent Christmas alone and the
thought was extremely depressing to me.*

“*Well**,* *you know you could stay with me and my Dad, but I have to stay with*
**her** *again,” Tiffany grumbled, referring to her mother, who had left both Tiffany and her
dad soon after she was born. The woman had mysteriously walked back into Tiffany's life only a
couple of years ago and Tiffany hated her with a passion, but was still forced to visit her during
holidays.*

“*Lily, don't be ridiculous, you're more than welcome to stay with us, you're
practically family!” Gracie said quickly.*

*Alice, Tiffany and I exchanged a look, noticing once again what Gracie hadn't. Gracie saw
the look, and went quiet for several minutes.*

“*You mean the Potters?” I asked tentatively, when I finally found my voice again.*

“*Of course, I did!” Gracie forced some cheeriness into her voice and immediately ran off to
find James who was more than happy, according to Gracie, to have me in his home.*

So yeah, I'm thrilled to be spending the holidays with my best friend, but I'm not so
psyched about staying in the same house as my two *favorite* Marauders. In fact I'm
dreading it, especially after what happened yesterday with James on the staircase. Awkward,
awkward, and his parents seem to think that we are already an item and James has done nothing to
indicate that this is a big fat lie, so yeah, lots of fun at the Potters. Whoop-de-doo.

“I know Lily, it must be hard for you,” Tiffany says sympathetically and both of us
involuntarily steal a look at Gracie who's scowling at Sirius. (He's making faces at her on
the other side of the window.)

“I'm going to miss Daddy, but my mother, if you met her you'd know. I hate her.
She's a total -” she trails off, saying something under her breath that causes me to grin
amusedly.

“It's not fair!” she whines, still watching the guys, who are now breaking up (because
Gracie threatened to shut the shade) and heading toward the train.

“Oh, quit your whining! Black's the very last thing I want to see in my face on Christmas
morning,” Gracie grumbles as Sirius suddenly runs back and starts writing rude comments on the
frosty window pane.

“Likewise,” I murmur, replacing Black with Potter.

Tiffany laughs as James and Remus join him. Even though it's backwards I can make out the
words “James Potter loves Lily Evans” Gracie frowns at Sirius's next sentence, and writes
something back. James roars with laughter, and Tiffany gasps before dissolving into giggles. Remus
on the other hand, catches my eye, and I realize that he's been trying to do this for a
while.

“Can we talk?” he mouths, making sure that the others are distracted.

I frown, but discreetly nod my head, silently indicating that I'll meet him at the end of
the train.

I slip out unnoticed, and notice the top of Remus's sandy hair, moving rapidly past the
windows. Hurriedly I follow, all the while, wondering, what does he want to talk to *me*
about? I mean sure, we're friends, kind of, and yeah we're prefects, and have a lot in
common, but we never really talk except during prefect meetings or sometimes in class. Remus
overtakes me outside, and hops up onto the train before I reach the end.

“Hi,” I smile uncertainly. “What'd you want to talk to me about?” I ask curiously.

“Not here,” Remus looks around nervously. He brushes past me, in search of a more private spot
to talk. Passing by, he grabs my wrist, pulling me through the students behind him. A few
compartments down, he stops, dragging me inside the empty compartment and slamming the door
shut.

“I have to warn you, I'd never forgive myself if I didn't,” Remus whispers. “Remember
when you walked in on us in the Common Room the other day, when we were talking about something
Ophelia said to Gracie?”

“Of course,” I frown, wondering why Remus looks so upset by this information.

“Ophelia said something about the funeral and Gracie took her seriously, very seriously.”

I swallow hard, my heart sinking. This can't be good.

“Lily, you're the only one that can stop her. I'm hoping that I'm completely wrong,
but I think that over the Holiday Gracie's going to attempt something very dangerous and
extremely stupid. I think she's going to look for-”

The compartment slides open so fast that I fear it might shatter. I jump back, my heart slamming
in my chest. But it's only James.

“James!” I gasp.

He looks livid.

“What's going on here?” James asks, angrily folding his arms over his chest.

“Uh,” Remus and I look at each other, extremely confused. “Nothing?” I answer, raising an
eyebrow.

James looks from me to Remus, and then realizing that we're telling the truth, uses another
tactic.

“Well what were you doing… *alone*?” he asks, lowering his voice and narrowing his
eyes.

“We were *talking*.” Remus rolls his eyes and exits the compartment, nearly barreling over
petite little Tiffany who had been standing near the door. “Sorry,” he apologizes, and Tiffany
blushes as she's exposed.

“Oh, there you are Lily! I was wondering where you went!” she laughs, eyeing James and I
nervously. “I'll - er - tell Gracie I found you.” She slowly backs out of the compartment and
runs after Remus.

Great, I get some more alone time with Potter. Just what I wanted.

“How long has this been going on?” James asks, studying his nails in a not-so-casual manner. I
resist the urge to roll my eyes like Remus did.

“The talking thing? Oh well, it started when I got to Hogwarts. I met Remus in Charms class and
I said “Hi, my name's Lily, do you want me to help you with the Charm?” and he said “Hi, my
name's Remus. Yes, that'd be great.” but if you really want to know the truth, I started
talking when I was a year old, or maybe I was younger, or older…”

“Shut up, I didn't ask about that,” he snaps.

“Oh, you didn't! Well then what were you asking about James?” I ask smirking, knowing full
well what assumptions James made when he walked in on the two of us. I could save him a lot of
drama, but it's fun to watch him squirm.

“You're snogging Remus!” he bursts out after several moments of agonizing silence.

I suppress a laugh. I'm strongly tempted to lie and say that we were, but I notice the look
on his face. James looks as if a Quidditch has just been canceled…for life. Besides, I don't
think Remus would be too keen if I went around telling people that I was his girlfriend. First of
all, I'm not that great of a catch, though for some absurd reason Potter thinks I am. Second of
all, judging by the look on his face when he first walked in, I think James would tear Remus to
shreds. Friend or not, he'd probably teach him a lesson he'd never forget. I shudder,
wondering if I'll ever be able to have a boyfriend without having to worry about my unwanted
stalker assaulting him in the hallway.

“You're his girlfriend, aren't you?” James misreads my hesitance.

“Um, no.”

“What are you then, friends with benefits?” he asks, trying but failing to look as if this
doesn't matter to him.

“Unless an extra brain counts as a benefit, I believe we're just friends.” I smile, watching
as his muscles relax and the tension leaves his body. He looks up hopefully at me, his hazel eyes
meeting mine.

“You mean there's nothing between you two?” he inquires hesitantly.

“Nothing,” I admit.

“And you were only…”

“We were only *talking*.” I grin, repeating exactly what Remus told him.

Hearing it from me, James accepts it. A slow smile spreads across his face, and smugly he looks
me over as if to say, “I knew all along that nothing was going on here, I was just testing you.”. I
scowl hating the fact that he can be so arrogant even after he just made such a huge mistake.

“Well, Evans, I guess I'll see you around, since you are coming to stay with me.” He starts
to leave.

“Wait just a minute Potter, we're not finished here.” I grab the back of his robes to stop
him. Just then the train jerks forward, finally getting off to a delayed start to the long journey
home. The result, James loses his balance and falls backwards, onto me. We topple, landing on the
seat.

“Get off me!” I hiss, pushing at Potter who's practically sitting in my lap. Why does it
always end up this way? You'd think I were a klutz considering the amount of time I spend with
Potter on me and the other way around.

“I happen to be very comfortable.” Potter grins, leaning his head on my shoulder.

“Well I'm not!” I growl, unsuccessfully shoving him with my one free arm.

“MOVE!”

“No!” Potter smirks, knowing that I can't reach my wand and he's a lot heavier than I
am. But he doesn't realize that I can still…

CRACK.

Potter swears. Instantly he hops off me, holding his face where I slapped him. Already
there's a nice red hand print forming. Maybe if I'm really lucky, there will be a black and
blue. I mustn't get my hopes up, but imagine what his fans would think.

I fly out the compartment running into both Gracie and Tiffany.

“Well it's about time the train started moving,” Gracie is saying to Tiffany. “You know what
the delay was, don't you? Princess McLaggen held us up. She wanted to pack, so of course they
had to stop the world, just so she could get her stuff being mortally injured and all.” Tiffany and
I crack up laughing and Gracie grins.

“Oh, there you are Lily. We were wondering where you went.” Gracie notices me, and moves over so
I can walk between them.

“What'd Remus want to talk to you about?” Tiffany asks eagerly.

“Oh, nothing, he wanted to pass on something from the prefect meeting to me.” Tiffany quirks an
eyebrow, exchanging a look of disbelief with Gracie. They clearly don't believe it, but I
can't very well come out and tell them that Remus wanted to pre-warn me that Gracie was going
to attempt something stupid over the holiday.

“He's stuck here over the holidays, did you know that? It's going to be him and Peter. I
guess his mom took ill at the last moment and didn't want him to catch it. Poor Remus. I would
rather stay at Hogwarts with them than go visit my mother. The woman's so vain, so horrible,
that I'm ashamed to admit that we're related. She divorced her 11th husband, I mean, who
the hell goes through eleven loveless marriages? It's like a hobby for her. If I didn't
know how awful and heartless she is I might check to see if she were mentally stable.”

We reach the compartment with Tiffany still babbling on about her mother and her eleventh
ex-husband. She takes a seat and Gracie and I sit down side by side across from her. Gracie takes
out *Witch Weekly* (“Does Your Favorite Wizard Fancy You? 10 Tell Tale Signs That Romance is
Brewing”) again, pretending that she's actually listening to Tiffany. It's not like we
haven't heard this before, we listened the first few times, I swear, but there's only so
many insults Tiffany can create for the faceless woman and her long line of exes and though it was
amusing, it gets boring after the fourth or fifth time. I nod my head a couple of times, submit a
view “Yeah”s, and completely tune her out.

*

The cold air swirls around us as we step off the train. Around us parents and siblings run
forward, laughing and shouting, answering the joyous calls of the students that claim them. For a
split second I think that I see my mother, but as the woman steps into the light, I realize that
the woman looks nothing like her. I can't help but feel disappointed. I watch as the woman
gathers the furs closely around her, wondering how I could possibly mistake this stuck up lady for
my mother. The woman scans the group, scowling. She tosses her flowing blonde hair, turning to the
huge wizard beside her who happens to be wearing a black robe, and yes, sunglasses.

“Is that a body guard?” I ask aloud, and I'm surprised to find both Gracie and Tiffany
staring at the beautiful snobby woman and her humongous body guard.

“Oh no!” Tiffany moans looking as if she wants to sink into the pavement and disappear. “Hide
me, please!” she squeaks, pushing Gracie in front of her (who happens to be the tallest).

“Tiffanella!” The woman calls out waving. She's no longer scowling, but I can't help but
notice that her wide smile looks completely fake.

“Tiffa what?” Gracie asks. She looks at me, and I know we're both thinking: Blackmail.

*Tiffanella* groans behind Gracie, but slowly creeps out from behind her defective shield.
The woman, who must be Tiffany's unbearable mother, parts the crowd dramatically with her body
guard as she gracefully strides over to greet her daughter.

“It's been ages darling!” She stretches out her arms, as if she's waiting for Tiffany to
run right into them. Tiffany gives us a look that clearly says “You've got to be joking,
right?” And Gracie and I have to suppress a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“Write me,” she begs us, before reluctantly joining her mother. The body guard picks up the
trunk as if it's a feather. Where does he work out or maybe I should be asking, what kind of
drugs is he on? Her mother gathers Tiffany into a huge hug (which is unreturned) and then walks
away with her arm around Tiffany, waving her free hand around as she goes on and on about how much
she's missed her “*Tiffanella*”.

“It's TIFFANY!” I hear Tiffany exclaim.

“Oh no darling, that name's far too boring for a daughter of mine. Tiffanella is so much
more beautiful, it breathes potential and beauty and it would look so much better up in lights
don't you think, Tiffanella?”

Gracie and I unfortunately don't get to hear Tiffany's comment to this, because the
group exits the station, and the Potters join us.

“Gracie!” Mrs. Potter physically runs across the station with her husband, son, and Sirius in
tow.

“Auntie Heather! Uncle Dan!” Gracie meets them halfway, receiving them far more enthusiastically
then she did when she was last staying with them.

Gracie's aunt and uncle take turns hugging their niece. James steals a very quick look at me
and I'm happy to see that his left cheek is still a wonderful rosy shade of pink. Sirius
silently applauds, a look of admiration on his face. I pretend not to notice, but James glares at
him and he stops.

“Oh, and you brought Lily too, wonderful!” His mother smiles genuinely, embracing me as if I
were her own daughter. She pats my hair and I hear her whisper confidentially in my ear. “Lily,
your hair's looking a little green.” I blush remembering that I hadn't been able to
completely reverse Alice's payback spell. She takes out her wand when the others aren't
looking and kindly removes the remaining dye with a flick of her wrist. I touch my natural hair and
smile.

“Thank you Mrs. Pot-”

“Heather,” she corrects me, winking.

She grabs Gracie, wrapping an arm around her. The other falls around my shoulders. I look from a
laughing Gracie and Heather, to Mr. Potter and the two boys eagerly giving him the play by play of
the recent match verse Hufflepuff (Gryffindor slaughtered them, largely thanks to Gracie and
James). Guilt twists my stomach as I wonder if I might actually enjoy this Christmas, despite the
absence of my parents.

Heather leads us out to a car, I didn't know that wizards had cars, and we all get in. I
quickly realize that this car is nothing like it appears, and is certainly not muggle. Mr. Potter,
who wishes for me to call him Dan now, is playing with a few buttons and knobs on a panel next to
the door, and suddenly we're off flying over the traffic, squeezing through houses and trucks,
and running stop lights. Needless to say I'm gripping both James and Gracie's arms by the
end of it, and I'm more than happy to run out of the car when we finally arrive at the house
ten minutes later. (It felt like hours) Mr. Potter taps the car with his wand, and it zips away,
disappearing with a pop. Gracie, James, and Sirius lazily join me, looking rather amused.

“What's wrong Lily? Did you get a little car sick? Or was it that you couldn't resist an
excuse to touch the irresistible Potter?” James smirks.

I glare at him, but it's Gracie, still rubbing her arm where I practically cut off her
circulation that comes to my defense.

“James, get a grip, Lily was trying to cut our blood supply off. She was trying to kill you not
come onto you, honey. She grabbed me by mistake I'm sure.” She pats James's arm
sympathetically, and he shrugs her off and stomps into the house.

Sirius and I laugh.

“Muggle cars don't act like that I take it?” Gracie asks me, smiling slightly as we follow
him into the dining room where the Potters already have dinner set up for us.

“No,” I shake my head. If only they knew that you were supposed to stop at red lights, and in
the muggle world you can't squeeze through cars, you hit them and die. I shudder as I take a
seat next to Gracie, across from James, reminding myself never to get into a wizarding car, under
ANY circumstance.

Dinner's a pleasant surprise, the food's excellent, and Dan and Heather out do
themselves making me feel right at home. They both ask me about school and stuff, and encourage me
to partake in several of their conversations. I feel like I'm an old family friend, or a niece,
by the time the delicious treacle tart arrives.

Gracie finishes her dessert and goes up to her room to unpack. Hastily, I try to finish my
treacle tart, which I was unable to eat since I was laughing at one of Dan's jokes.

Someone kicks me under the table. I choke, dropping my fork with a loud clatter. Mysteriously it
slips off my plate and even though I swear I caught it, it slides through my hands and lands
somewhere under the table. My reflexes aren't the best in the world.

Forgetting table manners entirely, and the fact that both Dan and Heather are legal magic using
adults and could easily use their wands, I climb under the table in search of my missing fork.

James's face greets mine, and I sit up so fast that my head bangs into the table.

“Ow,” I whisper, scowling as he holds up the fork that I was searching for.

“Meet me upstairs in two minutes, we have to tell you something,” he says so softly that I know
no one but me can hear it. I would've told him “no way” right then and there, but he said
*we* not *I.* Reluctantly I give a short nod, before crawling out from under the table
and taking my seat again.

Dan and Heather give us a curious look, as I drop the dirty fork in Gracie's empty dish and
James reappears at the seat across from me. I realize that there's a second clean fork and
blush in embarrassment. Way to make a fool out of yourself, Lily.

“Er, I'm muggleborn,” I mumble.

Quickly, I eat the rest of my treacle tart and excuse myself. I hear James do the same behind
me, and Sirius…

“You're eating me out of house and home,” James complains, pulling him out of his seat.
Sirius still manages to stuff helping number four of Treacle Tart into his mouth before following
James and I up the steps with a mouth full of food.

“What'd you kick me for? That hurt you know!” I hiss, running up the steps after James.

“Oh, please Evans, stop whining! You've done worse to me plenty of times,” James snaps.

“Yea, but you deserved it every time. I've done nothing to deserve that kind of assault on
my sensitive shin!” I protest, following James off the steps and down a hallway that looks all too
familiar.

“Oh, you've done enough. Trust me Evans, you're far from innocent after everything you
put me through,” he mutters, stopping in front of a closed room. I don't ask what he means,
because as soon as he opens the door, a wave of memories slaps me in the face.

“*Why,” I gritted my teeth and wrapped 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.”*

Soaking wet from the funeral we came here and sat in the dark and the quiet. Sirius throws
himself down on the couch, and James sits down beside him.

“*I just wanted to thank you,”*

“*Thank me?”*

I shut the door softly behind me as I step into the room.

“*You don't believe me? I'll prove it to you right now Evans. You're going to
witness a miracle right before your very beautiful green eyes.”*

I can recall how close we were, how I closed my eyes and leaned back against the door and let
his hands do the work. I shake the memories from my head, but I grin, remembering how convinced
Potter was that he would be Head Boy and would win our bet. I'd forgotten about that. I perch
myself on the arm rest closest to Sirius, don't want to give Potter any ideas, and turn
expectantly to them.

“What'd you kick me for?” I demand again, hoping that this isn't some silly ruse to use
Sirius as a way to get me to go out with Potter, because it won't work, trust me.

“What'd Remus want to talk to you about?” Sirius asks, barely suppressing a grin as he
watches James suddenly lean forward. His intense hazel eyes move to me and lock.

“Erm,” I consider lying but decide to tell them the truth. “He wanted to warn me that Gracie was
going to do something incredibly dumb because of something Ophelia said to her.”

“Oh,” James sits back in the couch, lowering his eyes.

“See! I told you so!” Sirius turns to James with a triumphant grin. James frowns, but says
nothing.

“So, you know then what she's planning to do?” James inquires, closing his eyes.

“No.”

“What?” His eyes flutter open and Sirius looks at me incredulously.

“I don't know because *someone* interrupted us before he could tell me.” I narrow my
eyes and look at James.

“You didn't.” Sirius's eyes flick to James, and he groans, realizing that James did
exactly that. “Now, we have to explain it to her,” Sirius grumbles.

James sighs and pushes Sirius over so that a space is cleared on the couch beside him where I
can sit. I eye him suspiciously, but hop off the arm rest and sit down next to him.

“Look Lily, while they were waiting for you after the prefect meeting Ophelia started talking
about how she went to Gracie's parent's funeral.”

“Why would they be talking about a funeral?” I wonder aloud. Who talks about funerals?

“Lily, it's Ophelia, she's nutters,” Sirius pipes up.

“As I was saying,” James continues. “Ophelia mentioned that fact that she made a very unusual
observation concerning Gracie's mother.”

The familiar sinking feeling returns and I look up at James with wide eyes. My breath hitches in
my throat and I grab at James's hands in a weak attempt to keep myself calm.

“What's Gracie going to do?” I ask in a hushed voice that sounds far away and faint.

James looks at me, his eyes looking as distant as his voice.

“Trust me, you don't want to know.”

There are a lot of things that I wish I didn't know. Ignorance is bliss. Unfortunately I
think it's too late now to deny me information. Once you discover that your best friend's
family's been brutally murdered for no particular reason, and there have been others,
there's not much else that can scare you. I took the plunge the day I opened that letter, the
day that the Serial Killers arrived, the last day I saw my parents, the day that I held onto James
as the world crumbled around us.

“Try me,” I challenge.

“Fine.” James leans toward me and whispers in my ear. It's ridiculous, unbelieveable,
something that would be published in Ophelia's fiancé's beloved *Quibbler*, no doubt.
But not something that I can see someone actually taking seriously, or let alone acting upon
it.

“Gracie doesn't actually believe that, does she?” I ask weakly, but I know after seeing her
that fateful day that Gracie does. Maybe I would believe it too if our situations were reversed.
Quickly I change tactics.

“She couldn't actually…”

James smiles sadly, and Sirius shakes his head as if I'm an idiot.

“Lily, look out the window.” James takes my hand, and drags me over to the window. He pulls
aside the curtain, and I look, and see, far away, barely noticeable, but definitely there…

“Oh, God!”

I pull away from James and run out of the room and down the hall. I don't stop until I'm
outside her bedroom. I throw open the door, nearly flattening Gracie in the process. Gracie grabs
the door inches before it smashes into her face. She looks at me startled and confused. When she
reads my face, the confusion fades along with the shock, and an amused smile spreads across her
face.

“Remus told you?” she asks laughing.

“He tried to.” I step inside the room, and she shuts and locks the door behind me.

“James?”

I nod.

“I figured one of them would,” she sighs, flopping down on the bed.

I fold my arms over my chest, eyeing her warily. Gracie pretends not to notice, picking up a
copy of Witch Weekly and flipping through it. We sit in an uncomfortable silence for several
agonizing minutes before I finally have the courage to break it.

“You're not really, you aren't going to…” I stammer.

Gracie's strange smile returns, daring me to continue.

“You wouldn't…”

She lifts her head defiantly, her blue eyes conveying the message clearly.

“Want to come along?” she quips.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” I roar.

“I'll take that as a no,” Gracie says dryly, turning back to Witch Weekly.

“You're joking, right?” I ask, hoping that my ears deceived me, and that she did not just
suggest that we - she can't, she can't actually think that I would go with her down
*there*. No, it had to be my imagination. This whole thing has to be some stupid prank the
Marauders are pulling on me that Grace is in on.

“No, Sirius insists that I don't have a sense of humor.” Gracie frowns, but I'm not
about to let her change the subject.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MARBLES?”

“Maybe, but I'm still going, with or without you.”

“When?” I ask.

“Tonight obviously.”

“You're insane!” I back out of the room, wondering if she's still the same Grace Adams
that I'm best friends with or if she's being inhabited by the same alien that took over
James's body a few months ago. Because certainly, I mean it's crazy!

“So, are you, since you're coming with me!” she calls after me even as I hurry back to the
guestroom that's been arranged for me again.

“No, way!” I shake my head. Never, I'm never ever going down there, not unless I'm
dead.

“I'll come by later, wear something warm, we wouldn't want to freeze to *death*!”
she laughs.

I slam the door shut and lean against it, still shuddering. A few doors down I hear her do the
same.

A/N: Thanks guys for reviewing! You made my day! I promise I'll do my best to update soon,
since the next few chapters just need to be edited. Please let me know what you think, though I
understand it's a cliffhanger and you kind of need the next chapter before you really
understand what's going on. It might get weird in the next few chapters, but they're very
unique I can promise you and I had a lot of fun writing them.

-->



14. Open Sesame
---------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *I highly doubt anyone's been crazy enough to try this in an L/J fanfic
before.*

**Chapter 13: Open Sesame**

Minutes, hours, days; I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here. After I spoke with
Grace and ran back to my room, I leaned back against the door and slid down until I felt the
hardwood floor beneath me, and there I stayed…until now.

The door opens and I find myself lying on the floor, looking up at James.

“Sorry,” he apologizes.

“Don't you knock?” I ask, irritably.

“Have you heard of a bed? Or maybe a chair?” he snorts.

“I happen to be very comfortable right here,” I insist, closing my eyes and resting my hands on
my chest.

“I'm sure my mother would appreciate the fact that you find no need to use the beautiful
furniture in our house.”

I lift an arm, lazily offering him my hand. He sloppily kisses it before rudely dropping it back
onto my chest.

“Ew, that's disgusting James.” I sit up, rubbing my hand in an attempt to rid my skin of his
saliva. Merlin knows how many girls he's been swapping spit with since puberty. I could have
half of Hogwarts germs on my hand right now, and if I happened to touch my face I could become
deathly ill. Seriously!

“I do not have cooties,” he retorts.

“Maybe you don't, but your past girlfriend's might've,” I grumble, reminding myself
to wash my hands at least one hundred times before I go to bed. Oh my god. What if he kissed
McLaggen? GROSS!

“Gracie wanted me to get you,” James reminds me.

“Oh, yeah,” My heart sinks, remembering where Gracie's going tonight.

“Are you coming with us?”

No. But I plan on making sure that no one goes tonight. I have to stop her. I jump to my feet
heading for Gracie's room.

“They're already downstairs,” James informs me.

Right, I knew that. Just testing you. I redirect my path to the stairs, but James's voice
stops me again.

“You're not intending to go out dressed like that, are you?”

I look down at my outfit. I'm wearing a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt, the same
thing that I wore on the train.

“Um, I don't think they'll care if I'm dressed up or not,” I point out.

James holds up my cloak.

“Oh, thanks,” I take it from him and reluctantly put it on.

We're not actually going, are we? I look around hoping that James's parents will notice
that we're getting dressed to go out, and try to stop us.

“They're gone Lily, they went out to a Ministry Ball,” he reads my mind.

“Oh.”

Gracie must've been planning this thing for weeks. She knew they were going to go out this
night, and she knew that it was within walking distance. There's one thing that she didn't
count on though; me. I'm a force to be reckoned with. I plan on giving her a piece of my mind.
I've always been the logical one and it's time I put a stop to this little adventure before
Gracie's hopes get crushed, again. I can't watch her fall again.

Sirius and Gracie are waiting for us in the kitchen. They've been arguing about something,
but Gracie's laughing and Sirius is grinning. All afternoon I've been in the guestroom,
creating a convincing, persuasive argument in my mind. The words, which only moments before were on
the tip of my tongue suddenly die on my lips when I see the look on Gracie's face. Her eyes are
shining brightly with excitement. She's been anticipating this for weeks; plotting and dying to
check it out. This is anyone's dream come true.

“Come on, let's go!” Gracie eagerly leads the way as if we're going on some sort of
adventure.

I don't have the courage or the heart to stop her…yet.

I pretend that we are going on an adventure as the four of us silently step outside into the
freezing cold air. There's no need for our wands, because a fat full moon lights the way.
It's one of those nights that are so insanely bright that you swear it's daylight. Gracie
couldn't have had better luck if she drank Felix Felicis.

Gracie and Sirius silently walk ahead of me exchanging an occasional excited, slightly insane,
grin. They're both mental. I feel James brush my shoulder with his own as he falls into step
beside me. I'm surprised because unlike Sirius and Gracie he's not grinning like a loon or
looking like a mad scientist who's completely lost it.

I touch his wrist, drawing his hazel eyes to me. He looks at Gracie and Sirius, shaking his head
and then leans close to my ear.

“This wasn't my idea,” he whispers so only I can hear. “I don't like it.”

I squeeze his hand in silent agreement, dropping it. While we both know that Gracie wants this
more than anything, we're afraid she'll get hurt. She can't afford to be hurt again,
there's only so much a recently orphaned sixteen year old can take.

The trees thin and the mouth of the path suddenly opens onto a gated creepy clearing. Taking a
deep breath, I gather up my courage and face my best friend.

“You can't do this,” I tell her firmly, deliberately turning my eyes away from the scene
that seems right out of a muggle horror film.

“You're not my mother, Lily,” Gracie laughs at the irony of this statement.

“Gracie this is not…right,” I struggle and fail to find a word to explain the situation
we're in right now. Gracie merely looks amused at my attempt and with a flick of her wand
flattens the gate and enters the graveyard.

“I won't let you do this!” I say, stubbornly chasing after her. My voice reaches a strange
pitch, but I don't care. Let's just get the hell out of here. I don't like this. I
don't like this at all.

“Scared Lily?” Gracie asks, scathingly.

“NO!” But a part of me is terrified, but not because we're in a graveyard of all places but
because of what Gracie's planning on doing.

“This is stupid!” I cry, grabbing her arm.

Gracie wrenches her arm from my grip so fast, that I nearly lose my balance. She turns angrily
towards me, her blue eyes flashing dangerously. I force myself to meet her eyes with a steady gaze
of my own even though a part of me wants to run and duck behind James.

“Listen to me Lily! You don't know a thing about stupidity or anything else for that matter!
You've lived a sheltered life in the muggle world, oblivious to all that's been happening
here, safe from the hands of a growing darkness,” she hisses.

“Not by choice!” I protest.

“You're so naïve! Your parents are still alive! You were bawling your eyes out because your
parents were SAVED!” she yells in my face.

Tears fill my eyes but I don't dare let them fall.

“Do you know how much I would give to be you? Do you know what it's like to lose someone
close to you, let alone three? It's like losing a part of you, watching half of your body go
numb, shrivel up and die. You go on as if…as if…you're a ghost, a mere shadow of who you used
to be,” she stops, breathing heavily and I notice tears sparkling in her own blue eyes. And
that's when I see it, the determination. There's no stopping her, she HAS to do this.

Impulsively, I throw my arms around her.

“I'm sorry! I'm only looking out for you, you're my best friend and I don't want
to see you get hurt again. I'm sorry,” I blubber.

Gracie hugs me back, the anger fading.

“No, it's alright. I'd probably commit you to St. Mungos if the situation was reversed,”
she jokes as we pull away.

“I love you too Gracie,” I say sarcastically, but I know she wouldn't commit me.

“You can turn back if you want,” Gracie says hesitantly, nodding toward the entrance where the
gate's sprung up again.

“No, I'm coming with you.”

Gracie smiles and leads the way down the beaten path with me following. The cracked, crumbling
tombstones rise up around us and I shiver. Some of these must've been here long before the
Stone Age. It gets colder as the tombstones start sitting up straighter, their words clearer with
dates within the last couple of centuries. It's hard not to think of all those muggle movies I
used to watch with my sister as we walk through the graveyard. I stick close to Gracie's side,
feeling James's warm breath close to my neck and listening to Sirius's steady footsteps,
but I'm deathly afraid.

A marble building, glowing eerily in the bright light of the moon, rises up before us.

I gasp.

The mausoleum.

Who knows how many dead bodies are in there, and we're going to walk right in as if we own
the stupid place. Oh dear, oh god, this is dumb. I hate Ophelia and her crazy ideas, it's all
her fault! As we shuffle through the snow, the two torches on either side of the massive door
suddenly spring to life. James steps past me and lays his hand on the door with Gracie. The door
shudders and dissolves. Sirius grabs one of the lighted torches from the entrance, Gracie lights
her wand and they disappear into the black opening of the tomb. I sway on my feet. There are dead
bodies in there, several dead bodies. Not ghosts, bodies.

“Lily, let's go!” James urges.

I swallow my fear, lighting my wand before James drags me into the tomb after him. The door
solidifies behind me, plunging us all into the suffocating darkness. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the
flickering light of Sirius's torch, the moving light of Gracie's wand, and the quivering
one from my own. I inhale, steadying my trembling hand.

I look around, noting that we haven't even entered the tomb, not really. The wide passage
way that we're standing in suddenly drops off like a cliff's edge into a steep staircase. I
thought in mausoleums the bodies were above ground but apparently in the magical world they make it
ten times scarier by making you go underground.

At the bottom of the staircase is another door, smaller than the first, but equally frightening.
Gracie and James both place their hands on it, and once again the door dissolves and solidifies
behind me as it did before. The door opens onto another passage way, similar to the first, except
that the ceiling's a lot lower and instead of a staircase at the end there are five doors
waiting for us.

James lights his wand and heads toward the first one. Gracie goes to investigate the last one.
Sirius goes to number four and I take door number three. The words are hard to make out,
there's so much dust on it. I lift my hand to wipe the dust.

“NO!” Sirius shouts and James seizes my wrist in midair. Gracie looks terrified.

“Don't touch that, don't touch anything, okay?” James says, squeezing my wrist so hard
that I won't forget. I squirm and he lets go, relief flooding his face.

“Why can't I touch anything?” I ask, following James as he clears the dust from the door
that I was looking at.

“Because,” Gracie answers, as she scrutinizes the fifth door again. “You don't have any
magical blood in you.”

“I'm a witch!” I remind them.

“Of course you are, but you're also a muggleborn,” Gracie continues, running her hand
lightly over the door.

“So?”

“Lily, James and Gracie are the only ones that can get through the doors. Their ancestors
created this tomb with the intention that only people with their blood could get in. I probably
have some of their blood, but I'm not taking any chances. If we were to touch anything in here,
the results could be deadly,” Sirius explains, patiently.

Gracie smiles gratefully at him, and continues trying to decipher the fifth door. James joins
her and they have a brief discussion before making a decision.

Gracie flashes the light in our eyes.

“Come on, I think it's this way,” she beckons to the fifth door.

“You *think*?” I squeak. What happens if we go down the wrong one? What happens if we get
lost? Is it like a maze where we get lost in the catacombs, going round and round, deeper and
deeper into the ground, never to surface? I need to lay off on the horror movies, seriously.

James and Gracie open the door again, and Sirius gives me a slight push when I hesitate. I
recall the small tip that he just gave me and hurry after Gracie and James, sticking close to them
like glue.

Gracie stops short and I bump into James. Sirius comes very close to lighting my hair on
fire.

“Damn, this isn't it!” Gracie steps forward revealing a dead end and…

I scream.

James clamps a hand over my mouth, muffling the noise. Gracie and Sirius twist around fearfully,
moving their light to find the source of my scare. The shadowy figure, which I mistook as a walking
corpse, becomes a mere suit of armor in the light. I relax, and James removes his hand.

“No one's going to hear us, they're dead,” I grumble, blushing in embarrassment. I
carefully avoid the other's eyes but I can see Gracie and Sirius out of the corner of my eye,
suppressing a laugh.

“Don't be so sure,” James says softly, turning to go.

I steal a look over my shoulder, watching as the silent Knight falls back into the shadows and
sinks into the darkness. What an unusual place for a suit of armor…

“Come on, Lily!” James calls. The light of his wand catches on the ruby sword hilt of the
Knight. I tear my eyes from the sparkling rubies, hurrying after them.

“Let's try number two,” Gracie suggests, picking a random number.

So we try number two.

The second tunnel's thick with cobwebs. I mean it was filled. It was disgusting how many
cobwebs were in there. There were probably species of spiders in there that mankind thinks are
extinct. They've been spinning webs in there for centuries, I swear. Gracie wrinkles her nose
in disgust.

When James informs us that the writing's not even in English, but in runes, we were all more
than happy to turn around.

“What's behind door number three?”

I felt like I was on a game show. It's a game of chance. You never know what might be
waiting for you on the other side of the door. Perhaps there'd be money, perhaps there'd be
a trip, perhaps there'd be a brand new car, or a bedroom set, or maybe some bodies, or
perhaps…

“Turn around!”

Gracie wheels around, her blue eyes filled with fear and her face colorless. James runs back to
reopen the door. Gracie pushes me in front of her, grabbing Sirius with her other hand. A low moan
echoes through the chamber sending a chill down my spine. The three of us run for the open door,
never looking back.

“Wh-what was that?” I pant, crouching down beside James to catch my breath.

“I have no idea.” Gracie shivers, leaning back against the wall. “But I never want to hear that
ever again.”

We all shudder, the bone chilling moan echoing in our minds.

“Two more left, they have to be in one of them.” Gracie looks less enthusiastic about
investigating the last two tunnels now. It seems to have finally sunk in that this isn't an
adventure.

Even so Gracie bravely leads the way through the fourth tunnel.

This one, unlike the others, actually has bodies. Hundreds and hundreds of bodies. This round
room is entirely made out of marble and is the heart of mausoleum. Coffins line the walls bearing
plaques of people long forgotten.

Our footsteps reverberate through the room as we cautiously enter. In awe, I survey the marble
fixtures filled with elegant designs, occasionally catching my eye with flash of gold or a
glittering jewel. Statues glare at us as we pass, and faceless creatures open their mouths in a
silent, eternal song.

“This way,” Gracie whispers, but her voice echoes over and over again.

I cross the room with Sirius, following James and Gracie to a statue of a lion. The lion surveys
us with ruby eyes as we pass behind him and into one of the narrow passageways off of the circular
marble room. The dates here are more recent, ranging from the late eighteenth century to the
twentieth century. At the very end, three black coffins stand apart from the rest. They sparkle and
glow and I realize that it's because there's hardly any dust on them.

“This is it!” Gracie's voice quivers with excitement, slicing through the heavy air like a
knife. The three of us join her around the middle one. Anxiety builds as we look from one to the
other and then back down at the waiting coffin.

Gracie traces the letters, her hand shaking uncontrollably.

*Hope Adams*

*Loving Wife, Sister and Mother*

*1935 - 1976*

“Well,” James watches Gracie expectantly and we wait impatiently.

“I'm not sure if I can,” she whispers, recoiling. Doubt surfaces in her face for the first
time. “Ophelia said that it was empty, but what if it's not…” Her face flushes, unshed tears
suddenly shining in her blue eyes. But she wants to know, she won't be able to rest if she
doesn't know.

“I'll do it,” I whisper.

Gracie, James, and Sirius look up surprised and stunned, since I was the person who fought
against coming here in the first place. To be honest with you, I don't know what I'm
thinking. I only know that I have to be the one to do it, for Gracie.

“I think you better turn around, just in case,” I tell her gently. Gracie nods, giving me a
grateful look before turning her back on me. I watch as she folds her arms on her brother's
coffin, burying her head in her hands.

I look up, my eyes meeting James's.

“You better do the same.”

James hesitates, but slowly joins Gracie, wrapping a comforting arm around her.

With trembling hands I try to find the latch. Sirius gently pushes my unsteady hand away, and
picks them one by one with a strange looking piece of metal that looks oddly like a muggle
paperclip.

When he finishes he looks to me. I can't believe we're actually going to do this.

“I'll push, you pull.”

He nods and moves to the other side of the coffin, grabbing the lid as I begin to heave it open.
Honestly, the weight of the thing, it's almost as if they're trying to keep the body from
escaping. I mean really, it's not like it can get up and walk away. A minute later, Sirius has
most of the lid off, and I realize that it's me who's going to get the first glimpse and
discover the answer to the question Gracie's been dying to know.

“One more,” Sirius pants.

I grit my teeth and give it a final shove. I hear Sirius pulling on the other side, and I know
it's open. I peek inside, and immediately regret it. A white lumpy form, wrapped in many white
blankets rests in the coffin. My stomach churns at the thought of the crumbling woman lying under
all of that linen, and I sway on my feet. Sirius turns away sadly, laying a hand on Gracie's
shoulder. I hear Gracie emit a sob and watch her crumble.

I grab the edge of the coffin, squeezing my eyes shut.

We shouldn't have come here.

Ophelia was wrong.

The coffin isn't empty.

Hope Adams is dead.

The room blurs as I feel my own eyes feel with the damned tears. There's a corpse lying in
front of me, not just any corpse, but one that's been lying here for almost three months,
rotting and breeding maggots and it belongs to someone I knew. The floor moves, the room tips.
Everything's spinning out of control. I'm so dizzy, my head's pounding. I cling to the
coffin, leaning forward.

I choke and clamp a hand over my mouth. Oh no, I'm going to hurl. Swallowing hard, I try to
steady my swaying body, by reaching out for the nearest thing.

My hand plunges into the fabric, sinking down through the layers and layers but never quite
reaching the bottom or the thing that I'm dreading... the flesh, or, what's left of it. I
recoil, but my hand upsets the fabric and for a split second…

A motionless bulging yellow eye looks up at me.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

I scream and scream and scream and scream...

I feel my eyes roll back into my head, consciousness slipping…

“*Lily*!”

And I fall.

**A/N**: Thanks so much to everyone that took the time to review! So, now you know what Grace
is up to and that I watch way too many horror movies. I'd love to hear from you and
constructive criticism is always welcome!

-->



15. A Deadly Discovery
----------------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** **Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling. Not me.**

**A/N: Didn't have time to respond to reviews but thank you for reviewing! Sorry I'm in
a rush but I wanted you guys to get this chapter before I left for another week. For those of you
that think this part is weird and pointless, here's the explanation. I'm sick of the same
old stuff. I wanted to do something different. I promise it all ties together in the end so stick
with me.**

**Chapter 14: A Deadly Discovery**

*I fall to the floor screaming. Covering my head with my hands, I try to protect myself from
the bombardment of china as he tips the cabinet with a twirl of his wand and the plates, dishes and
figurines slide forward and shower upon me. The glass of the shattered cabinet slices into my skin,
cutting open arteries and bleeding through my clothes. I feel the pain, in my arms, in my legs, and
I see it in a reflection of the glass, in my eyes, in the blood drenching my clothes and pooling
around me.*

“*Why are you doing this to me?” I gasp.*

*Two blood red eyes lean close to my own and I forget about the blood, the pain, the shattered
cabinet, and Mark, Gracie and Chris. A cold bony finger lifts my chin and he scrutinizes my face
with a chilling grin.*

“*Your brother Harry took something of mine and I want it back.”*

*My eyes widen involuntarily.*

“*I d-d-don't know w-w-hat y-your talk-k-king ab-b-bout,” I lie. My teeth chatter and I
shiver because I know that it has nothing to do with the cold hand on my chin and has everything to
do with the bath I'm taking in my own blood.*

“*Don't be scared Hope, I won't let you die.” He strokes my cheek with a cold-blooded
laugh.*

“*I'm not afraid of dying!” I spit in his face, even as my hand reaches to stop the flow
of blood from one of the wide wounds in my chest.*

“*That's what your husband told me,” he whispers, leaning close to my ear. “Before I
killed your son.”*

*My blood runs cold and everything freezes over.*

“*Now tell me Hope, where did you hide it?”*

*I look down at a shard of glass, catching a glimpse of my black curling hair and two round
brown eyes glazed over with pain and grief. My fingers curl around the edges, ignoring how it cuts
open my fingers, and I hurl it toward his face.*

“Lily, stop it!” I recognize James's panicked voice, even as I fight with an invisible
foe.

“What's the matter with her?” Sirius asks, worriedly.

“I think she's having a seizure!” Gracie gasps. “Sirius, don't touch her!”

My wildly swinging fist smashes into something. The spell is broken and I break free from the
nightmare returning to the hard cold floor of the mausoleum. I stare up at the ceiling, looking up
at the coffins stacked one on top of another, rising up toward the massive dome.

“OW! What the hell was that for!”

Sirius reels back clutching his face. James seizes my arms pinning them down on either side of
my body. Gracie kneels down next to Sirius to see if he's all right.

I catch my breath, my breathing returning to normal and my heart rate slowing.

“James,” I whisper as his worried hazel eyes look down at me once more.

“Hey.” His warm palm smoothes the creases from my forehead, tenderly pushing my hair out of my
eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks, softly.

I shut my eyes, remembering the coffin with the body, the bulging inhuman yellow eye, the
shattered china, the pain, the blood, the cold, the sinister grin and the chilling red eyes. I feel
his hand take mine, his thumb rubbing over the backs of my fingers. Slowly, I open my eyes
again.

“I'm okay,” I whisper, looking up into his hazel eyes.

“Good.” James manages a weak smile as he offers me a hand. I take it and he helps me to my
feet.

“All right, Lily?” Gracie inquires, concern shining in her terrified white face. I think about
telling her about the yellow eye and the weird nightmarish vision that followed, but she clutches
Sirius's arm as if she might fall herself. She just found her mother was dead, again, and my
heart goes out to her.

“I'm fine,” I lie, even as James's eyes bore into the back of my head. “I just got a
scare and took a spill, that's all. I've been watching too many Muggle movies!” I joke,
forcing a laugh. The other three just stare at me and I remember that I'm the only Muggleborn
here and hastily clear my throat.

“So, what do you say we get the hell out of here?”

“I'm all for it!” James agrees, leading the way.

“Oh, come on James, I know you love it here. Secretly, you want to stay in this cold, dark
chamber with the skeletons and ghosts of your ancestors,” Sirius quips as we follow James out.

“Yeah,” James says dryly. “It's been my life long dream.” He rolls his eyes.

Gracie and James lift their left hands, placing them on the door at the same time. The door
shudders like it did the first time at the entrance, but it doesn't dissolve. Instead it bursts
into flames. I scream as Gracie, Sirius and James are lost in the hot white fire that consumes us
all in a fiery inferno. The flames lick the hem of my cloak, crawling upwards, but strangely I feel
no pain. The fire blinds me, even as I reach out for the others.

BANG!

I feel myself being thrown back from the door by an invisible force. I fall on my side, sliding
across the marble floor of the circular room. Slowing down, I twist around and notice too late that
someone else has become an unwilling participant in this demonstration of Newton's law.

“Sir—oof!”

Sirius smashes into me, but we finally stop sliding and skid to a halt. I stare up at the dome
high above us watching as the flames turn to smoke and then into a mist that fades and disappears.
I catch my breath for the second time. I'm breathing, that means that I didn't burn to
death. Groaning, Sirius sits up. My head falls off his back and onto the floor.

“Ow!” I cry out.

“That's payback for punching me.” He smiles smugly as I clutch my head.

I chuckle. I untangle myself and sit up beside him.

“Gracie? James?” I call their names, looking around.

“Present!” Gracie answers and James gives a half hearted, “Here.” To my left, James sits up
grumbling and cursing under his breath. He's rubbing one of his arms and grimacing, but
otherwise looks unhurt. On the opposite side of the room Gracie stands brushing off her now dusty
cloak. The black material is coated with dust and cobwebs thanks to a particularly old passageway
off of the room that stopped her.

“What was that?” I ask, shakily getting to my feet.

“I don't know, but it was fun!” Sirius pipes up, grinning.

I stare at him as if he's suddenly grown antlers, though in the Wizarding World it's
probably not that uncommon. I mean, I've been in the same class as Alice and Frank for coming
up on six years, I've forgotten what was once strange after all the unusual accidents they had
when their spells went off target or their potions spilled. As I was saying, he's gone mad.

“Sirius, we almost died,” I explain to him, since he seems to have overlooked this fact
entirely.

“I know, and it was awesome.”

Obviously, this kid's never been on a roller coaster before.

“Let's do it again!” Sirius exclaims, excitedly.

And obviously, he needs to get his head checked. His priorities seem to be out of order.

“Er, let's not and say we did,” I say, nervously turning to James for back up.

“Don't look at me!” James says, throwing up his arms in front of him. “I'm just the best
friend, not his brain, but I appreciate the compliment…” his voice trails off suddenly, his face
taking on a puzzled expression, that quickly changes to terror as his eyes widen to three times
their normal size.

“LILY, SIRIUS LOOK OUT!” Gracie screams from the other side of the room.

Sirius and I turn around, only to find that the formerly motionless statue of the ruby-eyed lion
has left its former post by the Adam's tomb. He bounds across the room, straight for where
Sirius and I are standing. He opens its mouth in a roar, exposing a set of sharp marble fangs that
I'm sure he will have no trouble sinking into our flash regardless of the fact that he's
not a real lion and used to be a statue. He isn't supposed to move, but he's now
ferociously running toward us with flashing ruby eyes and a loud, hungry roar.

“Holy sh-” Sirius swears, and I suddenly feel as if my legs have grown roots and embedded
themselves deep under the floor of the mausoleum.

The lion leaps, his paws outstretched and its claws lengthening like flashing deadly swords
coming out from behind a knight's shield.

“RUN!” James yells.

Sirius and I obey. I uproot myself, scrambling out of the lion's path and diving toward
James. Sirius runs in the opposite direction. The lion pounces on the spot where Sirius and I were
just standing only seconds ago. The floor cracks and crumbles, as his sharp claws fiercely close
upon what should've been us. Angrily, he roars his disapproval of losing his midnight snack
(though he couldn't technically *eat* us…), and I hear him moving on, probably readying
himself to make another turn and come back for us.

My foot slips and I unceremoniously fall on my face. I start to pick myself up and immediately
discover what caught my foot. The lion created a hole in the floor and the cracks are spreading
towards me. This time it's my whole leg that slips and drops. It never reaches the bottom but
hangs suspended in the chilly air. I chance a glimpse over my shoulder as I fight to pull it out.
Fearfully, I watch as the floor falls away into a black endless hole, and suddenly my other leg and
my entire lower body is at the mercy of gravity as well. My stomach drops too, and it continues to
fall as my hands and arms flail, desperately in search of something other than the slippery marble
crumbling beneath my fingertips.

“Hang on, Lily!” I hear a familiar voice, and my heart leaps, but does a funny somersault and
sinks. It's falling faster than London Bridges, reaching the same state as my bottomless
stomach.

“No, James DON'T!” I scream, desperately hoping that he won't do what I think he's
going to do.

Ignoring my protest, James foolishly crawls toward the edge on his stomach, doing exactly what I
knew he would do. The marble beneath my elbows teeters and gives way. I scream as my fingers slip
and instinctively reach for something to hold onto. James seizes my hand in both of his own.

Somewhere far away Gracie and Sirius are shouting and the cracks are widening the hole I fell
into, but the only thing I see are James's large hazel eyes full of terror and fear. I watch as
another large chunk beneath James trembles and melts into the hole, but he pulls back, still
holding my hand tightly. Next time though, he won't be so lucky.

“James,” I whisper.

He looks at me and I notice something in his eyes that I never took the time to notice before.
Something strange, something foreign, something that causes my heart to flutter, which scares me
even more than the dark bottomless pit, probably full of skeletons, that I'm about to fall
into.

“Let go of me,” I breathe.

“No,” he refuses.

“LET GO!” I demand as a thunderous crack resounds through the room and I see the deadly jagged
lines snaking towards him. I squirm and wriggle, but James hangs onto me.

“I'm sorry, Lily, I can't.” James smiles sadly.

The floor beneath him suddenly plunges and our bond is broken.

“James,” I whisper and watch helplessly as the dome shrinks, growing smaller and smaller even as
the air becomes colder. I'm falling fast. Shutting my eyes tight, I pray for a painless
death.

Let Gracie and Sirius be all right. And James, please, I'm begging you, let him live. I used
to hate him, I used to wish at times that he would fall off a random cliff and die, but he's
changed; he's different now. Honestly, he doesn't deserve to die anymore. Please, let him
be okay, please…

I feel myself suddenly being lifted upward, high above everything else. Quick, painless, and now
it's over. Everything's come to an end…

“Oomf!”

I open my eyes, looking down into the face of James Potter - the very first person I was hoping
to see and yet at the same time the very last. I let my eyes flutter shut, laying my head back down
on his chest. There's nothing I can do about it now, it's too late, we're already dead
and it's my fault. I bury my face into the front of his cloak and start to cry.

“Sssshhh, Lily. It's okay, you're safe now,” he reassures me. His arms go around me, one
hand stroking my hair.

“Why'd you do that?” I ask him. “I told you to let go! You shouldn't have done that!” I
pull away, glaring at his confused face.

“What?” James asks, lifting his head.

“If you had let go of me, like I asked you the first time-”

“ARE YOU TWO ALL RIGHT?” the familiar voice of my best friend interrupts me mid-rant. My heart
starts pounding, realizing what this means.

I whip around and laugh joyfully. Grace Adams and Sirius Black are standing on the other side of
the giant cavern the lion created, looking at us worriedly.

“I think so.” James shoots a look at me.

“We're fine!” I answer, beaming before turning to James with a look of wonder. “James, how
did you do it?”

“A levitation spell.” James grins.

I laugh and tackle him in an unexpected hug. James wraps his arms around me holding me close and
I inhale the familiar, soothing scent of his cloak.

“Oh, Lily,” he whispers into my hair. “You didn't actually think I would let go of you, did
you?” I shake my head, but shove my face deeper into his cloak. “I knew that the levitation spell
was the only way, but I couldn't let go of you until that last second. I'm sorry, I'm
so sorry. You know I would never let you go, don't you?” I nod, giving him a last squeeze
before pulling away.

“You're crying,” he points out.

“Because I'm happy,” I chuckle softly, swiping at my streaming eyes. God, why do I have to
be so emotional? What's this, like the hundredth time this week I've started to cry? Lily,
you need to grow a backbone and get on some hormonal drugs.

“Come here.” James reaches for my face, gently wiping away the tears. I reward him with a watery
smile.

“ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE OKAY?” Sirius yells to us.

“YES!” James and I call back. “BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO YELL, we can hear you fine,” I add,
laughing again.

“Good,” Gracie sighs. “I was yelling myself hoarse.” She sits down at the edge of the hole, as
close as she can possibly get to us, I realize. Sirius sits down next to her and James and I scoot
close to the edge of the hole that's separating us from our friends.

“Well,” James starts, surveying the black hole dividing the room. “This is inconvenient, the
room split in such a way that none of us can reach the door.”

“So we're locked in?”

James nods.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically.

“Don't worry, Lily, it gets *better*.” Sirius grins.

“Oh really?” I inquire, wondering how much *better* it can get.

“The only one that can get us out of here has to have the blood,” he explains.

So, basically it's all up to Heather, James's mom. And the chances of her searching for
us in the family tomb are slim to none.

“Can't we levitate ourselves over there or something?” I ask, hopefully.

“Um…” Sirius and Gracie exchange a glance. “I don't think it'd be too bright of an
idea,” Gracie mumbles.

“Why not?” I demand, jumping to my feet and taking out my wand.

A roar thunders through the room and James grabs my hand, pulling me down beside him.

“Oh,” I squeak eyeing the marble statue fearfully. The lion, now back to playing a semi-normal
statue, watches us with its ruby eyes but remains frozen at its post. I would've imagined that
I dreamed the whole thing, but the lion did just roar at us again, and instead of watching over
Gracie's parents' tomb, it switched sides so it could be closer to us.

I gulp, sincerely hoping that that thing doesn't decide to move again.

“I take it we sort of upset him,” I mumble.

“Yeah, I'd say so. Opening up a tomb isn't exactly honorable behavior toward our
ancestors,” Gracie remarks, dryly.

“Does that mean you can't get buried here?” I wonder aloud.

“Does it matter?” Gracie chuckles. “I don't think we'll care if we're dead. Besides
it was you, a Muggleborn, and Sirius, definitely not of the Moon lineage, who opened it. Not one of
our brightest ideas,” she sighs.

I look down guiltily at my shoes. I'm surprised we're still alive after our reckless
mistake, though, come to think of it, we probably won't be alive much longer, now that
we're locked inside.

“How long do we have until your parents get home?” I ask James, nervously.

James shrugs. It doesn't matter. I think the family tomb would be the very last place
they'd search, and if they did come looking for us here, I'd have to wonder if they were
sane. It's not every day that the kids decide to play in the mausoleum.

“Can we send an owl to them?” I suggest, hopefully.

“Yeah, hang on, let me just go and check if we have one buried in here,” James quips.

“Do you have a better idea?” I snap, blushing in embarrassment. Good thing there isn't much
light in here.

“Actually…” James trails off, his eyes brightening. “I might.”

He unbuttons his cloak and starts frantically searching his pockets. Sirius copies him, emptying
out a mad assortment of dung bombs, melted candy and a…dog bone? Gracie wrinkles her nose at the
mess in disgust.

“What's this for?” she asks, picking up the dog bone.

“Hey! I thought I buried that one a while ago.” Sirius grabs it out of her hands, tucking it
possessively into his pocket. He eyes Gracie suspiciously as if she's been the one taking his
bones, which he keeps for Merlin only knows what reason.

“Whoa, down dog! I haven't been touching your saliva-covered bones.” She throws her hands up
in front of her face and backs off.

“Ah ha!” James stops rummaging through his pockets, holding up a slice of glass that appears to
be a small mirror. Talk about vain. He's worse than Debby McLaggen and he's a male! If it
weren't for the fact that he used to date females (I can't recall anything recent, but
I'm sure he has…) and happens to be obsessed with me, I'd seriously wonder if he was gay.
Then again, he's not very neat and his wardrobe and hair need some serious work, so scratch
that theory.

“We're in luck!” Sirius pumps a fist into the air and Gracie looks at me, equally confused.
We're all going to be saved by a mirror, apparently. I think they've lost their minds and
Gracie agrees with me, I can tell.

“Is that a mirror?” Gracie asks James, eyeing both boys warily.

“No, Gracie. It's just something that looks like a mirror.” James rolls his eyes.

Darn. My eyes weren't deceiving me. They really did lose it.

“Remus!” James shouts.

And now they think they see Remus. I exchange another look with my fellow sufferer and very
slowly we scoot away from our crazy companions.

“Remus!” Sirius echoes and James starts yelling again.

“Moony, wake up, you dolt!”

“Get off your lazy arse and answer the mirror!”

They think Remus is in the mirror, they seriously do. I look at Gracie again. I'm comforted
to find out that I'm not the only one who's frightened by their behavior. I clear my throat
meaningfully, turning toward James who's now swearing at the mirror.

“James, I don't think-”

Sirius waves a hand, silencing me.

“He can't hear with you talking.”

“He's not going to hear anything!” I protest.

“Because you're blabbing.”

“Because no one's in the mirror!”

“She's right mate,” James sighs, ending our argument.

“What?” Sirius asks, incredulously. “Let me see that, I'll make sure he never screens his
calls again!” He makes a lunge for the stupid mirror. Luckily, Gracie sticks out an arm, yanking
him back, before he has the option of checking out the big black hole that he obviously forgot
about.

“Down boy,” she commands. Sirius growls but grudgingly sits back down. “Sit, good boy.” Gracie
pats his head and then turns to James as if just realizing something.

“Is that how you talk to each other?” she asks.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” James says innocently, tucking the mirror out
of sight.

“It is, isn't it? I knew it! Sirius usually has the other one, right? But you gave it to
Remus and now you're going to tell him that we're stuck and he'll owl Auntie Heather
and we'll be saved!” She grins and laughs in relief.

It all makes sense. Two mirrors, to connect James and Sirius, two people that seem to share a
brain. It's a stroke of genius and it explains many incidents that were shrouded in a veil of
mystery up until now.

“REMUS!” I shout at James, hoping that Remus in the mirror will hear me.

“REMUS JOHN LUPIN GET YOUR FACE OVER HERE, BEFORE I HURT YOU!” Gracie threatens at the top of
her lungs.

If the dead aren't awake yet, they are now.

“SHUT UP!” James yells over her, and this time it's Sirius who has to hold Gracie back
before she falls into the Grand Canyon.

“Stay, good girl,” Sirius imitates Gracie, with a smirk. He reaches out a hand, but instead of
patting her on the head, he pets her. Gracie doesn't like this at all.

“Pet me again, Black, and I will lock you in one of these coffins and never let you out.”

Needless to say, Sirius gets the message and keeps his hands to himself.

“He's not there,” James says, mournfully.

“WHAT!” I scream, scrambling for the mirror. I put my hands on Potter's chest, knocking him
to the ground. We wrestle, and I try to feel him up—in search of the mirror, of course.

“Not here, Lily, Gracie and Sirius are watching.” He winks, as he easily pins my arms at my
sides.

“You have a perverted mind!” I hiss, wriggling in his hold.

Sirius suddenly groans, and both of us stop and turn. I sit up, smoothing down my hair and shoot
Potter a disgusted look. Sirius looks as if he's on the verge of death.

“What's the matter?” Gracie asks, resting a hand on his shoulder, her face filled with
concern. Sirius shakes her off, lying down on his back.

“It's a bloody full moon!” He hits the floor hard with his fist, and bites down on it, to
stop the painful result of this stupid move.

“No kidding, what'd you think that bright thing out there was - the sun? Why do you think
he's not answering?” James grumbles.

“But what does that have to do with Remus?” I ask, frowning.

“Yeah, it's not like he's out howling at the moon,” Gracie laughs, but she's the
only one that does.

Sirius and James pale and share a panicked look that doesn't go unnoticed. Gracie suddenly
stops laughing, realization dawning, as she looks at me.

“Oh my god!” I gasp, clapping a hand over my mouth. Gracie's eyes widen.

“He's a werewolf, isn't he?” she asks softly, coming to the same conclusion that I
did.

Sirius coughs, pretending as if he didn't hear her, and James looks down at his hands
uncertainly.

“That would explain why he isn't answering…” I whisper.

“…and why he's at Hogwarts in the first place. He transforms there, doesn't he? He
must…” Gracie trails off mumbling, and I continue.

“That's why he always gets sick once a month and his grandmother's died five times…”

“And that explains why he couldn't come to my parent's funeral. It was a full moon!” she
finishes, still looking a little stunned.

How come I never noticed before? There was even a whole page dedicated to him in our O.W.L.
written exam. It was so obvious! I'm so stupid! I slap my forehead.

“Lily.” James looks imploringly into my eyes. “Please, I know you hate me, but don't take it
out on Remus even though you know he's a-”

I cut him off.

“First of all James, I don't care that Remus is a werewolf. It doesn't change anything,
if at all it does, it will only make me admire him more. He has this problem and yet he's
functioning, overcoming prejudices and proving himself to be one of the cleverest in Hogwarts.
He's a prefect and a Marauder.”

“Why don't you just snog him for Merlin's sake,” James mumbles.

“Second of all, I don't hate you.”

He looks up at me hopefully.

“I don't hate anyone,” I clarify, and the eager puppy dog look quickly vanishes. “Especially
not you,” I whisper, but I don't think he hears me.

I sigh, pulling my knees to my chest.

“Why don't we try the door again?” Sirius suggests.

“Be my guest Sirius, but I never took you as suicidal,” Gracie replies.

“I'm not talking about me idiot, I'm talking about you,” Sirius snaps.

“Do you want to die, Black, because we already tried that once and you and Lily came very close
to dying. In case you haven't noticed, you're not exactly welcome here,” she points
out.

“Neither are you.”

“Yeah, thanks to your stupidity,” Gracie grumbles.

“Whose idea was this in the first place?” Sirius sits up facing her.

I hold my breath and James and I look at each other before snapping back to Gracie. She stares
at the floor, hiding her face behind midnight black hair. Instead of exploding or dissolving into
tears, as I expected, she merely lifts her head and smirks.

“You were dumb enough to go along with it.”

Sirius gapes at her.

“Me? I was merely looking out for you!”

Sirius, the reckless Marauder, was looking out for rule-abiding—well, sort of—Grace Adams. I
snort, and James's mouth twitches as if suppressing a grin.

“Looking out for me? You were the one that almost fell into that hole!” Gracie giggles.

“I wouldn't have almost fallen into that hole if you hadn't been panicking,” Sirius
scoffs.

“I was not panicking!” she protests.

“Admit it! You were so sick with worry about the fate of your beloved Sirius Black that you shut
down.”

“Um, actually, no. My best friend Lily Evans happened to be on the verge of death, in case you
hadn't noticed.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Sirius shakes his head making a tsk, tsk sound.

“I was hoping you'd fall in,” Gracie mumbles, just loud enough for all of us, including
Sirius, to hear.

“I'm hurt, I'm wounded, Gracie.” Sirius clutches his heart and gasps for breath. He
pretends to die, dropping his head ceremoniously into her lap. Gracie rolls her eyes and shoves the
*dying* Sirius off of her lap.

“Can we switch places, James? Lily? Please?” Gracie whines as Sirius, on the floor beside her,
pretends to writhe in agony, acting out his final moments.

“Um, I don't think that's an option,” I answer glumly, gesturing to the Grand Canyon.
“We're kind of stuck like this, remember?” I remind her quietly.

“How could I forget?” Gracie sighs, staring down at her hands. Sirius gets bored with his dying
act, and decides to resurrect himself. He makes a show of climbing back out of his grave, or at
least that's what I'm assuming he's doing, and coming back to life. James doesn't
laugh, and I don't find it funny, considering where we are at the moment.

“I'm alive!” Sirius shouts, dramatically. His voice echoes through the domed room and I
shudder.

Gracie looks at Sirius. Sirius looks at Gracie. Sirius opens his arms up to Gracie, welcoming
her.

“It's just you and me baby, and you're not going anywhere,” he teases, wiggling his
eyebrows suggestively, still holding his arms open.

“And neither are you,” Gracie purrs. She starts moving in on Sirius, like a tiger pouncing on
its prey. But instead of allowing Sirius to suffocate her in a hug and smother her with kisses, she
pulls out her wand and hurls a jet of purple light at him.

I blink as the light fades and clears from my vision. A wall now separates Gracie and Sirius.
Gracie smirks, looking extremely smug as she waves to Sirius on the other side of her wall. A
disappointed Sirius folds his arms over his chest and pouts. Gracie amuses herself by sticking her
tongue out at him. How ironic, last time a wall separated the two of them, it was me who cast it
and Gracie who was fighting to get to him and Sirius who was hoping that she would never cross the
invisible line.

“There has to be some way we can get out of here.” I watch Gracie and Sirius goofing off, but I
address this comment to James.

“This is it, Lily.” James opens up his hands, revealing the mirror. “But Remus, he'll be out
for at least three days.”

“I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you just tell me that we'll be
stuck in here for three days, at the least?” I repeat, looking up and over at him.

“I'm afraid so.” James grimaces and I groan wanting desperately to bang my head against
something. I chose James's shoulder. Again, this could be very romantic, if it wasn't for
the fact that once again I've been thrown into the arms of Hogwart's biggest pig, and
locked in not just any old dark place, but a tomb full of bodies. Did I mention that I used to have
nightmares about zombies as a kid? Why does my life have to be a living nightmare? Did I do
something wrong in my past life?

Gracie and Sirius tire of the game quickly, neither one of them have long attention spans.
Gracie's wall dissolves when she loses interest. Gracie yawns several times and curls up.
Within a few minutes she's asleep and safe from the dead demons that surround us. Sirius wisely
follows her lead and soon he's snuggled up to her, snoring softly. James is lying down beside
me, his back to me, and I stare up at the great dome ceiling wondering if we'll ever get out of
here.

I can't sleep though. As much as I try, I keep thinking of those sounds. When we went down
that one doorway, there had been moaning and groaning. It still brings chills to my bones. And the
eye, that yellow bulging eye, that couldn't have belonged to anything human. I shiver.

“Are you cold?” James asks, rolling over onto his side to face me. One look into his concerned
hazel eyes and I feel a little warmer.

“No, I'm all right. Well, no, I'm not. We're stuck in a bloody mausoleum for three
days with a bunch of dead people and a psycho statue that wants to kill me just because I'm
Muggleborn, but I'm not cold, I guess, though I feel like - ”

“Ssshh,” James cuts me off, smoothing the hair back from my forehead like he did before. I move
closer to him, loving the fact that he's human, familiar, cares about me, and happens to be
very much alive.

“I'm scared,” I admit.

“So am I,” he breathes into my ear, stroking my hair soothingly. In times like these, James
seems like a different person. I've temporarily forgotten about what he's really like,
blinded by my fear and the need to hang onto something, someone, anyone.

“It'll be okay, Lily, I promise,” James whispers, wrapping a comforting arm around me. I
allow him to pull me to his chest without protest.

“I hope you're right, James,” I sigh heavily, wishing that I could actually believe him.

“Me too.”

And my eyes close.

**A/N: Decided to put this up since I'm going away for a while. I didn't have time to
respond to reviews but I read all of them. THANK YOU!! I know this part in the story is extremely
weird, but I wanted to write suspense and do something different from the same old stuff, you know.
And I promise this all ties together in the end so stick with me. Reviews are greatly
appreciated!**

-->



16. Secrets Resurrected
-----------------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *It all belongs to J. K. Rowling. Anything that might cause you to question
sanity is probably my idea.*

**A/N: Sorry this is so late! Hope you enjoy and I will do my best to get the next one up ASAP
since it just needs to be edited.**

**Chapter 15: Secrets Resurrected**

*I hurl my weapon, a mere shard of glass at the red-eyed face. It tears open the flesh and he
cries out, momentarily taken aback by this attack. I scramble to my feet, but I'm losing too
much blood. My adrenaline driven strength is zapped right out of me and I stumble and collapse long
before he uses a spell to trap me in an invisible net.*

“*Fun's over,” he growls.*

*I'm too weak to struggle or even lift my head. The escape only brought death a couple of
breaths closer.*

“*Hope, silly Moon girl, you still haven't lost that bravery or the stupidity. Your
brother pulled that trick on me too, don't you remember?” he cackles into my ear and I shut my
eyes tight. “Stop fighting it, the pain will all be over in a few moments and you'll get to see
Harry, won't that be nice, a Moon sibling reunion over 20 years in the making.”*

*I drown out the sound of the dark, empty laughter, fighting back the flashing images of a
child version of myself running up the stairs, running into that room, the one with the locked
door.*

“**Harry!”**

“*You seem to have trouble opening up to me. What is it with you Moons?”*

“*I'll never tell!” I gasp with one final breath.*

“*Oh no you don't.” A flick of the wand and suddenly, I'm breathing again. No! I
don't want to be here! Let me die, let me go!*

“*Harry died on me; I won't be making that same mistake twice,” he whispers. “You know
there are some things… that are far, far worse than death.”*

“Death to you!” Gracie giggles.

“No Ms. Adams, you are fatally mistaken, because it is you who's going to be doing the
dying!” Sirius answers smugly.

Groggily, I open my eyes wondering if perhaps, maybe, this was all some kind of warped nightmare
and that I'd wake up back at my bed at home. No chance, a domed ceiling greets my sleepy eyes.
Still trapped in the mausoleum, I see. I prop myself up on my elbows, taking in the sight before
me.

The floor is littered with various objects that they emptied once again from their pockets.
Gracie and Sirius are sitting across from each other each holding a hand of unusual-looking cards.
After watching them for a couple of minutes, I realize that they're playing an old Wizarding
card game, a favorite of Tiffany's, called Death Trap. Very appropriate for the situation
we're in now, though kind of creepy if you ask me.

“What time is it?” I ask James, who's sitting up beside me, watching them, while turning the
mirror over and over in his hands.

James lifts his wrist, studying his watch.

“It's about five in the morning.”

Slowly, I sit up.

“That was a malignant error!” Gracie laughs, looking at the card that Sirius just put down.

“Oh, yeah? I'd like to see you try and climb out of this grave!” Sirius challenges her.

“How long have they been at this?” I wonder.

“Since four I think, maybe earlier.” James fiddles with the mirror, slipping it into his pocket
and then taking it back out.

I raise an eyebrow, wondering how they can be so lively at this ungodly hour.

“Second wind, I guess,” James chuckles, clearly reading the look on my face.

Gracie's face splits into a grin that I've seen several times before she announces
she's kicked our arse. She's very competitive, and only Tiffany seems to be able to beat
her at the game (which is why she likes it so much, because Gracie losing at anything is something
extremely rare). That's why Alice and I stopped playing with them.

“HA!” Gracie slaps down a card on the floor, trumping Sirius's best card. Sirius blinks,
stunned that he just lost.

The goblet that had been sitting to the side of the empty card box suddenly fills up with a
horrible, fiery, disgusting green liquid that tastes so horrible that you swear you're dead for
an instant. Several coins fly out of various places from Sirius's cloak and hover in mid-air
along side the goblet, offering him a choice. Either way he'll end up a loser. This is the real
reason why Alice and I quit playing. It was either drink slug shit or be robbed.

“I win! I win! You're trapped with no way out. Your life is now in my hands!” Gracie does a
little dance in place, pumping her fists into the air and bobbing her head. Sirius stares at the
cards in disbelief.

“So Mr. Black, what'll it be, poison or extortion?” Gracie laces her fingers together,
resting her chin on her hands.

“Give me the cup of death, Ms. Adams,” Sirius finally decides mournfully.

“Any last words?” she teases.

“This isn't the last you'll see of the almighty Sirius Black!” Sirius exclaims in
theatric voice.

Gracie giggles and hands over the cup. Sirius holds his nose, and drinks the whole thing in one
gulp. He grimaces, handing the now empty goblet back to a grinning Gracie.

“Rematch?” he asks immediately.

“You're brave, Black, but I happen to like kicking your arse.” Gracie smugly deals out the
cards for another game.

“*Hello?”*

I turn my head at the sound of a faint voice. I glance at James, but he's staring off into
space and the voice sounded almost muffled, and too high, almost girlish if I wasn't mistaken.
I must be hearing things…

“You wait, this time I'm going to give you a taste of your own poison.”

“We'll see.”

“*HELLO?”* I hear someone shout distantly once more along with the sound of barely audible
tapping, as if on a window… or any type of glass, such as a mirror, perhaps?

“James?” I ask tentatively. He's lost in space and for the moment, not responding, but
he's holding the mirror loosely in his left hand. I take his hand and gently open it, taking
the small mirror into my own. I close his fingers, and replace his hand, allowing him to continue
with his thoughts undisturbed.

I examine the mirror closely, but it appears to be empty.

“Hello?” I whisper hopefully.

I feel stupid talking to a mirror, though in the Wizarding World they do talk back. I almost
went into cardiac arrest the first time it happened. Gracie practically peed herself laughing,
until I explained to her and the others that in the Muggle World hearing voices in a mirror is a
sign of insanity. Unfortunately, I hear nothing and see nothing, not even my reflection. My breath
fogs the glass and I lower it, disappointed once again.

“We're never going to get out of here,” I sigh.

“*REVEALO!”*

Alarmed, I look down at the mirror. My eyes widen. Something's definitely in the mirror now.
I see flashes of colors, red, gold, a glimpse of fire and then a woven rug, which I recognize as
the one in the Gryffindor Common Room. Someone must've dropped it onto the floor!

“James!” I gasp, tugging on his arm. “James, come look at this!”

In awe I watch as the scene in the mirror spins, and then suddenly instead of the rug, it's
the ceiling of the Gryffindor Common Room that I'm looking at, as if someone flipped it
over.

“Lily? Hey, what are you doing with that?” He frowns, looking over my shoulder.

“Look!” I squeal, holding up the mirror for him to see.

“HEY! HEY MOONY!” James yells at the mirror excitedly.

The end of a wand pokes at the mirror, and a few orange sparks emit from its smoky tip. The room
flips over again, but once again we're looking up at the ceiling of what's undoubtedly our
beloved common room.

“REMUS!” I shout, rapping smartly on the glass.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS!” a voice answers, one that does not belong to Remus, but still
one that I recognize instantly. I hold my breath, and a moment later a familiar face appears on the
other side of the mirror.

“TIFFANY!” I shriek. Never in all my life have I been happier to see her. “Tiffany, it's
me!” I wave frantically at the smaller version of her face, currently filling the glass.

Her eyes widen.

“Lily?” she gasps. Her eyes flick to the side. “James?” Her jaw drops as her eyes move between
him and me.

“But…how?” she stammers.

“It's a two-way mirror, you have Sirius's and we have James's,” I explain, though
I'm still not exactly sure how it got to be that way.

“Where are you? You're not stuck in the mirror…” Tiffany trails off, confusion clouding her
face.

“No, but we are stuck,” James says.

“What do you mean *stuck*?” Tiffany asks suspiciously, as if she knows that it's bad.
James and I exchange an uneasy look, one that Tiffany doesn't miss. I hear her sigh heavily as
if we willingly got ourselves into this mess, which is inevitably going to come to rest upon her
shoulders. “Where are you?” she asks tiredly.

“We—er—kind of got trapped inside a mausoleum,” I mumble.

“You're inside a WHAT?” Tiffany asks, cleaning out her ear and leaning closer to the glass.
I get a close up of her ear and one side of her face. Her eye, I notice is slightly bloodshot and
rather puffy and pink around the lids. Has she been crying? Wait - didn't she go to her
mother's? What was she doing in the Gryffindor Common Room, with Remus's mirror, at five in
the morning when she was supposed to be at her mother's?

“We're inside a Mausoleum,” James repeats more clearly. “You know, the big marble tomb where
hundreds of dead people can be buried.”

“I know what it is,” Tiffany says in a far away voice. She seems to lose her trace of thought,
as if she's forgotten we're even there. She shakes her head, coming back to us. “What are
you two doing in there?” she asks, blinking, as if she's still not sure that she knows what we
said, or where she is for that matter.

“We're not alone,” I tell her.

“Obviously; they pack `em in there like sardines,” Tiffany says with a taste of her old humor,
which for some reason makes her sober extremely quickly, rather than giggle as she normally would
in this situation.

“I'm not talking about them.” I shudder involuntarily, looking around. “I meant Gracie and
Sirius are with us, too.”

“Gracie…Sirius?” Tiffany seems to have trouble placing the names as if she wasn't really
listening to me. She seems to have got lost again.

Hearing their names, Gracie and Sirius, who have abandoned their intense game of Death Trap,
call out to her, grin and wave. I hold up the mirror so that she can see them. Tiffany doesn't
respond, perhaps stunned by the situation.

“Tiffany?” She's acting so strange, this isn't like Tiffany, but then again it's
five in the morning. I can't blame her… and it must be hard to swallow the fact that your four
friends trapped themselves in a tomb.

“Tiffany, stay with us!” James jokes and he snaps his fingers.

Tiffany snaps out of it. She glares at the mirror, a scowl crossing her face.

“You're telling me that all four of you are stuck in a mausoleum?” James and I nod. “Is this
some sort of sick joke?” she snarls.

“No!” I say exasperatedly.

“I swear we're telling the truth!” James swears.

Tiffany raises an eyebrow and snorts. Next to Sirius, James is about the last person I would
expect to tell the truth, and the most likely to pull a joke like this on someone. Not a wise move,
James. I shoot him a glare, before turning back to Tiffany.

“Is Remus with you, too?” Tiffany asks skeptically.

“No.”

“What about Peter? How about Frank and Alice? And why don't you just throw in ol'
McLaggen for Merlin's sake! Party in the tomb!” Tiffany exclaims hysterically and I notice that
it isn't the firelight playing tricks on her face, but real tears that are streaming down her
cheeks.

“No, Tiff, this isn't a joke, believe me!” James begs.

“Don't you `Tiff' me, Potter! I've got better things to do than becoming your latest
prank,” she says scathingly and her face suddenly disappears from the mirror.

“TIFFANY!” I scream. “Just listen to me! We need you to owl James's mom and tell her that
we're stuck in the tomb! PLEASE! We're going to die down here! YOU HAVE TO OWL JAMES'S
PARENTS! Please. Please Tiffany…”

The mirror goes black and a moment later it's just another piece of glass. My breath fogs
the glass, I rub it but it remains empty and colorless, void of any reflection of either side. I
stare determinedly at the empty mirror, willing her back. My eyes burn with the effort, a strange
lump rising in my throat. Something wet slides down my face, dropping onto the mirror. I wipe it
clean with the palm of my hand, but another teardrop lands on the mirror, and another and
another.

“She's gone,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

I feel James's large hand on my back, moving in slow circles. I lean back, resting my head
on his shoulder. James's arm encircles my shoulders, alternatively rubbing my back. I let him
keep his arm there because I'm cold…yeah…that's it, only because I'm cold.

“Damn her!” Sirius hisses. Gracie clutches her knees to her chest, tracing a pattern in the
floor. Sirius looks at her and then leaps to his feet pacing the room. I watch him through half
closed eyes as he makes tight circles around and around the place where Gracie sits. Finally he
stops.

“I have a brilliant plan!” he announces happily.

“You do?” Gracie asks in disbelief.

“Yep,” Sirius nods and plops down close beside her. “As soon as we get back, we're going to
kill her.”

James groans.

“There's only one thing wrong with your `brilliant' plan. We'll be dead, you
dimwit,” Gracie points out.

Sirius obviously didn't take that into consideration when constructing his “brilliant”
plan.

“So? We'll be ghosts… and we'll, um, scare her or bribe Peeves to throw a suit of armor
at her, or drop a chandelier on her…” He trails off, seeing as everyone's stopped listening.
“Or we could just sit here and rot…there's always the guilt suicide trip thing,” he sighs in
defeat.

“We're going to die!” I moan.

“No, no we're not,” James whispers soothingly, running his hand up and down my arm (only
because I'm cold). “Remus will be back in two days, and if Tiffany found the mirror in the
common room then someone's bound to come across it.”

“Wait, Tiffany found it in the common room?” Gracie speaks up.

I nod.

“But she's staying with her mother…” She frowns and looks at me.

“That's what I thought, but she was there in the Gryffindor Common Room.”

It doesn't make sense. What was she doing at Hogwarts instead of her mother's and why
was she crying? And she didn't seem herself, she kept zoning out…

“Only forty-eight more hours,” James says optimistically.

“Actually it's more like sixty, maybe more considering it will take Moony longer to recover
since we're here and not there to help him transf—” Sirius stops abruptly, and I notice James
giving him a wide-eyed warning look.

“Why? Are you like his support group or something?” Gracie asks curiously, obviously noticing
the silent exchange between the two boys as well.

“Kind of,” Sirius mumbles. His lips twitch as if suppressing a grin when he meets James's
eyes.

“We're his best friends. Of course we're his biggest fans,” James elaborates, but I
could've sworn there was a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. They're definitely not
telling us something.

“How dare her!” Sirius says suddenly out of the blue. “She interrupted our game, I was about to
win and she made us mess everything up! Just wait till I get my hands on her…”

“You were not winning!” Gracie protests.

“I was too!” Sirius insists.

“You were NOT!”

“You know I was going to win, you just don't want to admit that I bested you at your
favorite game.” Sirius puffs out his chest.

“I can see this is going nowhere,” Gracie sighs.

“There's only one way to settle this; we'll have to start another game.” Sirius deals
out the cards again.

“I beat you six times already, give it up, Sirius.”

“Never.”

“Fine,” Gracie accepts the cards, seeing as Sirius is never going to give up on the stupid game.
“Good thing I like winning.”

They start another round of Death Trap, which Gracie will probably win again. I don't know
much about Sirius's card skills, but I think he might be letting Gracie win. Then again, his
attention span is much shorter than Gracie's, and he's easily distracted. He spends more
time studying Gracie than the cards, and I thought James was bad. Sirius doesn't seem to
realize that he's doing it, kind of like me leaning into James… Wait, backtrack. I look slowly
to my left.

James's arm is still around my shoulders and I'm still leaning on his chest, fifteen
minutes after he originally comforted me. What's wrong with me? I was cold, or at least I
thought I was cold, for about a millisecond. I forgot that his arm was there and that I happened to
be breaking all the Personal-Contact, Respect-Other-People's-Space rules. Discreetly, I lift my
head off his shoulder and slide out from under his arm as if it was nothing, just two people
sharing body heat because they had the illusion that they were cold. It's perfectly normal.
Doesn't mean I like snuggling up to Potter or anything, just animal instincts. Wait, no, that
sounds wrong.

“Thanks for your arm,” I thank him stiffly.

James looks at me funny.

“I'm warm now.”

A light goes on in his eyes.

“I mean I'm not cold anymore,” I hastily correct myself.

“Er—you're welcome?” James looks amused. I turn away so he doesn't notice how my cheeks
take on an unbecoming shade of pink.

You're an idiot, Lily.

I spend the next half hour trying to avoid looking, or touching Potter in anyway, which is
rather difficult, considering the Fates seem to have found it extremely amusing to strand us on our
own little island in the heart of an underground tomb. Enviously, I watch Gracie and Sirius, who
got a much larger and spacious portion of the room, and just so *happened* to have a whole
Death Trap game in their pockets. Why? I don't know. They're just lucky or crazy I guess.
Not that I would want to play Death Trap with Potter. First of all, I hate the game, and second of
all, he'd probably cheat.

“What time is it?” Gracie asks James after she beats Sirius for the ninth time in a row and
Sirius finished his eighth cup of slug shit.

“Five fifty-two,” James answers, glancing at his wristwatch.

I do some quick mental math in my head.

“Only fifty-nine hours and twenty-seven minutes left.”

“Great, plenty of time to catch up with the family,” James says sarcastically, looking around at
the coffins that surround us.

“I think visiting hours are long past over,” Sirius snickers.

Five minutes later, Gracie and Sirius have tired of their card game and are once again
bored.

“What time is it?” Sirius asks.

“Five fifty-seven,” James informs us.

Another minute goes by.

“What time is it now?”

“Five fifty-eight, exactly one minute later.”

“What time is it…now?” he asks James again.

“Five fifty-eight and fourteen seconds.”

“I'm bored!” he whines.

“I couldn't tell,” Gracie mutters sarcastically.

“I think we all are,” James chimes in. “There isn't much to do here,” he observes.

“Wow, I wonder why,” I grumble. “Maybe it's because the majority of the population happens
to be dead!” I roll my eyes.

“Soon to be *all* of the population,” Gracie adds under her breath.

We all pretend like we didn't hear her, even though we did.

“What about…now?” Sirius asks.

“I'm still bored,” James replies, stifling a yawn of boredom.

“No, I mean the time, you dolt.”

“What do you need the time for?” James asks Sirius, rolling up his sleeve again to look at his
watch.

“I have my reasons…” Sirius says secretly, meaning he doesn't have a logical reason for
wanting the time. He's just beyond bored and doing everything in his power to annoy us all.
Well, at least that's what it seems to mean, at least to me.

“Now come on, tell me what time it is,” Sirius persuades James.

James sighs but reluctantly reads the watch.

“Five fifty-nine and thirty-nine seconds.”

“And…now?”

“Five fifty-nine and forty-six seconds.”

“And…what about…right…NOW!”

“FIVE FIFTY-NINE AND FIFTY-NINE SECONDS!” James bursts out in frustration.

“Nuh-uh, you're wrong. It's six now.” Sirius grins.

*ROOOOOARRRRRRRR*!

All of us jump. Gracie and I scream. The lion must've gotten bored playing statues in the
park, because now he runs at us, leaping over Death Valley and lunging toward me, again. I shriek
and jump into James's lap. James rolls over, taking me with him. He covers my body with his
own, shielding me from the lion's ruthless marble talons. I hear the sound of grinding marble
and a weird cracking sound. The floor trembles violently beneath me. Blindly, I cling to James,
praying for it all to end.

And it does.

Silence descends upon us like the delicate, noiseless snowflakes that blanketed the ground
yesterday morning.

I crack open an eye but James's chest happens to be in my way. Oh no, I played the damsel in
the distress again. I am a Gryffindor, not a simpering helpless Hufflepuff! This has got to stop!
Though, come to think of it, I probably wouldn't have stood a chance if James hadn't got on
top of me. Wow, that sounds wrong, but it's true. The lion/statue/whatever-it-is wouldn't
hurt James, but he would hurt me. Even after finding a logical excuse for my fear and cowardly
tendencies, I blush in embarrassment.

“He didn't hurt you?” I ask softly, looking up into his hazel eyes.

“Nope, didn't dare touch me.” James smiles and I smile back, relieved.

“Scoot!” I tell him, punching his shoulder playfully.

He gets off of me and we stand up, taking in our surroundings, which now look exactly the same
as before, except now the lion's back near Gracie's parent's grave and the hole…

“It's gone!” Gracie squeals, nearly knocking me off my feet with a bear hug. I laugh and hug
her back, glad that she's all right.

“Oh, Jamesie!” Sirius mocks Gracie in a tearful high voice, as he emotionally runs toward James
in slow motion.

“SIRY!” James shrieks in an imitation of a female's voice as he grabs Sirius in a hug. They
break apart snickering.

Gracie sticks her tongue out at them, and Sirius makes a funny face at her in response. I roll
my eyes.

“Do you think we could try the door again?” James wonders, eyeing the door in question.

“There's only one way to find out.” Gracie grabs his arm and drags him off. Sirius and I
follow a step behind them. I keep one eye on the lion, which's still watching us—I swear—even
if he doesn't technically have eyes.

“Well?” Gracie asks, looking at James. Her hand hovers over the door. James steals a glance in
the direction of Sirius and me. He hesitates but lifts his hand, touching hers.

“I suppose we're all going to die anyway,” he sighs.

“I love the optimism,” Sirius comments, sarcastically.

Their hands quiver, fingers trembling violently as they reach slowly for the deadly door. I
glance at Sirius. His face is filled with fear and anticipation. We were lucky once, but the
chances of it happening twice aren't good at all. I suck in a sharp breath. Beside me I feel
Sirius tense. Our lives are in our friends' hands and Gracie and James are well aware of this.
Gracie bites so hard on her lip that she bleeds, and a sweat drop forms on James's smooth
brow.

The door flickers, shuddering as it glows lightly around the edges.

Please, please work. Please.

I hold my breath and wait.

And it opens.

I sigh in relief.

“I'll go first.”

Gracie lights her wand and plunges into the dark room before her.

“Follow me,” James whispers to us, as if he thinks we're going to go off exploring or
something, or run back into the ferocious lion's deadly den. Sirius pretends to turn around,
just to piss James off, but I seize the back of his cloak and pull him through the door with me. No
time for jokes, let's just get the hell out of here before the lion changes his mind about us.
Sirius and I follow James's bobbing light as Gracie's light grows larger.

“I don't need you to hold my hand, Lily, I'm perfectly capable of walking,” Sirius
complains to his left shoulder. I happen to be on his right. Wow, I didn't realize how dark it
was in here before.

“Sirius, I'm not holding your hand, I only pulled you out of there because you were goofing
off. I haven't touched you since!” I snap. Honestly, this isn't time for these petty
arguments.

“Yeah, now you let go,” he grumbles.

“I wasn't holding your hand, I swear!” I argue truthfully.

“Right,” he says sarcastically, obviously not believing me.

“Damn it!” Gracie swears up ahead. James stops beside her, asking what's wrong.

“The doors, they all look the same. The room's a bloody circle! Which one did we come in
through?” she asks desperately, the light flashing briefly on her panicked face.

“I don't know,” James admits glumly.

“How are we going to get out of here, then?” Gracie asks him fearfully.

“Er…we can start looking. One of the door's bound to be the right one…”

“We don't have time!” Gracie groans, but she and James frantically start looking over the
doors.

Sirius suddenly lights his wand, practically poking it into my face as he runs past me to help
them look.

“My eyes, Sirius! Lower that thing before you make me permanently blind!” I order, covering my
precious eyes.

“I don't even have my wand with me, Lily!” Sirius growls from beside me, brushing against me
to prove that he hasn't moved at all.

“But-”

“See!”

“I can't see, you dolt, I'm still seeing dots from your stupid light!” I grumble,
blinking furiously.

“It wasn't mine!” Sirius holds up what looks like two empty hands, but I can't be sure
because my eyes haven't recovered yet.

“Well, then what was it, a ghost?” I offer, mocking him.

“Shut up and help us!” James yells to us.

Both of us move toward a light, walking into each other. He mutters something under his breath,
and shoves past me in the direction of James's voice, which is growling for us to hurry the
hell up. Even though my vision is still marred by giant neon multicolored dots that look like
falling space invaders, I notice that he is, in fact, missing his wand. That explains why he took
the torch earlier, which we, of course, lost. The lion probably ate it. I hope he gets
indigestion!

I stumble toward the nearest light, opposite the path that Sirius took to James.

Gracie sits quietly, running her hands over the door, her back to me. The light shimmers in her
hair, making it look almost curly. I touch her shoulder and she jumps about six feet into the air.
Her wand is out and pointed at the center of my chest before I can think twice. Whoa, talk about
paranoid.

“I just came over to help you look, James told me…” I tell her, studying her face, which,
clouded in shadows, now looks strange and unfamiliar. Her dark eyes flit across my face and slowly
she lowers the wand.

“Oh, James did? Okay,” she says reluctantly in a voice that doesn't quite sound like her
own. Gracie turns around rather quickly, returning to her original position in front of the door. I
light my wand and crouch down beside her.

“This is it,” she decides after a minute of examining it.

“I'll take your word for it, Gracie.”

Gracie gives me a funny look as we get to our feet.

“What?” I ask, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her eyes, which in this light seem
unnaturally dark.

“Nothing,” she giggles. “It's just that you called me Gr—never mind.” She shakes her head, a
weird smile crossing her face. I watch her closely as she lifts her hand, passing it over the door.
The hand's scratched and scarred, probably from our ordeal, but it looks as if she attempted to
heal it, or Sirius, perhaps, judging by how horribly it was done. The door shimmers and opens.
Gracie smiles at me and steps through.

“Over here! We've found it!” I call to the others.

“Oh, good, James!” Gracie yells from the other side of the room. “I knew you'd find it!”

“It was all you, Gracie!” James corrects her as he and Sirius stumble toward me and out the
door.

“Stop being so modest, James!” Gracie jokes coming up behind me. “I would've led us back
into the lion's den if it hadn't been for you and Lily working on this one.”

“I was stuck with this idiot!” James protests.

“Takes one to know one!” Sirius shoots back in an immature sing-song voice.

I hear them running up the stairs.

“Come on, Lily!” Gracie grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door, which only moments before I
could've sworn I watched her step through, after she picked it out.

“Lily?” Gracie asks worriedly. Her eyes shine like deep blue sapphires even in the dim light of
her wand. I blink, looking at the doorway, which is now empty, because she's standing beside
me. But that doesn't make sense…

“Lily, the door!”

I look up just in time to see the door seal shut in front of us.

“Crap!”

“I'm sorry Gracie!” I apologize immediately. “I don't know why I froze, one minute you
were… and then…”

“It's all right, no fuss. Let's just hope I have enough blood in me…” Gracie nervously
rubs her hands together.

“You do, I just watched you open it,” I assure her.

“Yeah, but that was with James. It's a little different when there's two of you that
have it, a person like me, there's always that chance that it might reject me,” Gracie brushes
it off.

“Gracie, I watched you open it with my own eyes!” I frown.

“But that was with James,” Gracie repeats impatiently.

“No, it wasn't!”

I saw her do it! She was standing here only a minute ago!

“We can argue about this later.” Gracie lifts the same hand that I watched her use before, the
one that's not holding her wand. She's the only person I know who is left handed, therefore
using their left arm as their wand arm. Her right hand moves to the door, and I notice that the
scars that were there only moments before have disappeared.

I gape, staring at her hand. I grab at it, but Gracie pulls away.

“What's wrong with you, Lily?” she asks.

“But you - you already opened it,” I stammer. “And your hand, it's healed…”

“GET OUT OF HERE!” she bellows when I again, refuse to budge. I wake up then, realizing where we
are and recalling what the consequences might be if I decided to prolong my stay in the Moon
Mausoleum. Dazed, I allow her to pull me from the room and drag me up the steps. I start running
then and Gracie lets go of my arm as a dancing light appears up ahead. My heart jumps into my
throat when I discover that it's not the boy's wands but the flickering torch from the
entrance.

“Hurry!” Gracie urges me.

I put on an extra burst of speed and run out into the cool night air. Behind me I hear a
squelching noise as the door rematerializes and seals itself. There's a flurry of arms and
voices as Sirius and James join us, each of us checking to make sure that the others came out safe
and sound.

“We're alive!” I laugh, hugging James as the four of us walk through the cemetery toward the
gate.

“I think we're the first that have ever come out of there with our lives still intact,”
James chuckles.

“And we'll probably be the last.” I smile and pull away, hugging Gracie again.

*SNAP*!

A twig snaps and something crashes in the trees near us. A startled rat streaks out onto the
path and is gone as quick as it appeared. We freeze and hold our breath, but whatever it is, stays
hidden in the woods, silent and motionless.

“It's probably a cat or something,” Sirius assures us, but he looks around warily.

“I don't like this,” Gracie starts backing up, toward the gate. “Come on, I'll race you
guys back to the house!” She turns and runs, only stopping for an instant to open the gate, before
disappearing in the tree-covered path.

We look at each other and then hurry after her.

James struggles to open the gate with fumbling fingers, as Gracie's footsteps fade, growing
further away. I shiver against the cold, glancing over my shoulder for what will hopefully be the
last time, at the Moon burial ground. Far away in the distance I can see the glowing mausoleum with
its smoldering torch. A dark figure moves among the tombstones. Her scarred ivory hand passing over
the tombs, as her black, curling hair unfurls, rippling in a fleeting flash of the full moon. Her
eyes are brown and although I can't see them, I know they are hauntingly familiar.

“Come on, Lily!” Sirius says somewhere on the other side of the now opened gate.

But I'm transfixed by the ghostly image of the woman, my heart pounding somewhere in my ears
as wild and crazy thoughts scramble noisily through my mind.

The moon slides behind a cloud, the world sliding into shadows and darkness. The woman slips
away becoming a part of the night. James grabs my hand, tugging me along.

Theories and notions crash through my mind, smashing and colliding with logic and all lines of
sanity. The conclusion that I come to makes me run despite the fact that I have a stitch in my side
and I can hardly breathe or keep up with James's long legs (though he slows down considerably
just for me). I run away from her.

When we reach the house at last, Gracie and Sirius are sitting at the kitchen table, removing
their cloaks and scarves.

“Lily, you look as if you've seen a ghost!” Gracie jokes.

“I think I did,” I mumble, but the others fail to hear me as a tapping interrupts all activity.
Gracie runs to the window and the owl zips inside dropping a note in the center of the table.

*Dear James,*

*I'm so sorry. You're probably wondering where we are, then again you probably
haven't got up yet, but just in case I wanted to let you know before you heard the news that
we're fine. We're helping them clean up but hopefully I'll be home shortly.*

*Mom*

“News? What news?” James asks, after he reads it aloud to all of us.

Gracie looks it over with Sirius reading over her shoulder. She frowns but it's broken by a
huge yawn. It's almost half past six in the morning and we're all exhausted. The yawning is
contagious and before long we're all yawning, too sleepy to think of anything else.

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Gracie dismisses it sleepily as we head upstairs.

James nods, but I notice that he seems uneasy even as he gives her a small smile and goes to his
room. The rest of us say good night and split up.

The moon never came back out from beneath the clouds, instead a grey glow, the early morning
light replaced it when the clouds finally cleared. I shut the shade, blocking out the dawn. I curl
up in the bed, my eyes shutting. I'm too tired to change and too tired even to dwell on the
mysterious woman and her haunting face which keeps reappearing in various forms and ages, all
bearing an eerie resemblance to my best friend, her mysterious adopted daughter and her deceased
mother—Hope.

**A/N**: Haha, I bet you're all glad that they've left the mausoleum. Next up, we
find out what James's mother was talking about in her letter, some friends make another
appearance, and of course we have Christmas, right smack in the middle of July! Thanks again to
everyone that reviewed the last chapter!!! I will do my best to get the next chapter out ASAP!

-->



17. Shades of Grey
------------------



**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!*

-->



18. I'm Not Crazy
-----------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling.*

**Chapter 17: I'm Not Crazy**

I hate Potter.

I never liked him.

Ever.

I don't care if he's attractive—just a little, I'll admit—or if he's
funny—sometimes—or tolerable—rarely—or kind—next to never—or humble—I'm not sure if Potter
knows the definition of this word—he's still a prat, one that I hate. Nothing's going to
change that, nothing, you hear me? NOTHING.

So what if we played in the snow today? So what if I let him put his arms around me? I was cold,
okay? End of story.

It bugs me though, that I would blush in his presence and snuggle with him, that I would allow
*that* to happen, even if it was only because I was cold. I actually felt…happy, happier than
I had in a long time. That bothers me. “Potter” and “making me happy” don't belong in the same
sentence.

I hate him!

I can't sleep because I keep thinking about him. His face keeps drifting back into my head,
appearing on my closed lids and taking over my thoughts. I keep replaying over and over again the
snowy childish romp we'd had, which ended with the two of us lying on our backs, snuggled up in
the snow, and perfectly content. Who knows how long we stayed out there. It could've been days
or it could've been seconds. My sense of time has been so badly shaken that I don't even
know the date or the day of the week anymore. When it started to get dark I cleared my throat and,
realizing the awkwardness of the situation, sat up and said we better go inside. So we did. I
remember vaguely playing a game of Exploding Snap in my room with an infuriated Gracie who kept
complaining about Sirius, until she went off on such a rant that she left without even saying
goodnight.

So I changed and got into bed because I was tired.

But two hours later, as the witching hour passes, I can't sleep.

Damn him.

I get up, tossing the covers off of me. Throwing on my dressing robe, I quietly slip out of the
bedroom. The hallway's deserted and dark save for the flickering light of a candle at the
opposite end of the hall. I tiptoe the length of the carpet, praying that I don't wake anyone
up, but as the light crawls toward me, casting my own shadow upon the opposite wall, I realize that
I sent out my prayer moments too late.

“Come on, Gracie, cut it out!”

I stop dead in my tracks, immediately recognizing the voice.

“James?” I whisper.

James is standing on a staircase, where he'd been gazing down at the landing below. He moves
the candle he's carrying from side to side, as if trying to cast me into better light. When he
recognizes me, his eyes cloud over with confusion and he frowns.

“Lily, is that you?” he asks, despite the fact that we're a mere ten feet away from each
other and he has a candle in my face.

“No, I'm Gracie.” I roll my eyes, wondering how he could possibly mistake me for my best
friend. I know he has trouble seeing, but the idiot has his glasses on so he should have no trouble
identifying me. I mean in the daylight he can spot me from miles away. He stalks me and he stares
at me all the time so you'd think that he'd be able to find me in a black hole by now.

“Oh, sorry. I could've sworn I saw Gracie. I heard her walking around and then I thought I
saw her go downstairs… Hang on a second…” James pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his
face. “What are you two doing up at this hour? Conspiring? Getting involved in illegal activities?”
he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That's your job, James, remember? And I'm sure sleeping *alone* hardly counts as
an illegal activity.” I fold my arms across my chest, wondering what he's playing at.

“You're not sleeping now,” James points out.

“Well, I *was*.” That's a lie, I wasn't sleeping, but I was trying to.

“No, you weren't.” He grins and I blush.

I'm a horrible liar.

“Well, I would've been, if it hadn't been for *you*!” I snap.

Immediately I want to take these words and shove them back into my mouth, but luckily James
doesn't seem to be listening.

“So, is Gracie downstairs waiting for you? And don't even try to feed me that
she's-with-Sirius bull crap because I already checked, he's asleep,” he says, looking
around as if Gracie might suddenly Apparate into our midst—which she can't, because she's
not seventeen yet either.

“Well, so is Gracie,” I inform him confidently.

“Oh, really? How sure are you of that, because I could've sworn I just saw her sneaking off
downstairs…” he trails off, smirking.

“James, I can hear her snoring from here.”

James goes quiet, listening hard. I can almost see his ears wiggling and flicking as they try to
catch the soft sound that's undeniably Gracie's loud snores. Well it has to be, I mean,
where else could she be? And since I just basically put my life at stake here, that better be
Gracie snoring in her bed or I will kill her tomorrow.

“I don't believe you,” he says stubbornly.

I throw up my hands and march down the hall to Gracie's room. I admit I'm a tiny bit
nervous, especially since I can't hear her snoring anymore. I'm right, of course, I have to
be right. If I'm not Potter's going to say he told me so and smirk and do his cocky
I'm-the-king-of-the-world swaggering dance and never let me live it down that I was actually
wrong once. I'll show him.

“Well?” James asks, looking at the door expectantly.

“What?” I ask snappishly.

“Are you going to open it?” He gestures toward the doorknob, which my hand is resting lightly
upon but refuses to turn.

“James, she's asleep for Merlin's sake, I don't want to disturb her.”

I don't want to find out that I'm wrong. I don't want Potter to be right.

“I can't hear anything,” James says in a singsong voice, leaning his ear against the
door.

“Fine!”

I turn the knob and open the door…

And breathe a sigh of relief.

Gracie's curled up with her back to us, fast asleep. Her snores are muffled by the fluffy
pillows her face is stuffed into, and a trail of black hair streaks across the sheets that are
pulled up to her chin. I whirl on James with a satisfied smirk.

“See, she's asleep.”

“But I just saw her outside in the hall…” James protests, obviously reluctant to admit that
he's wrong.

“It was me, you dolt.” I hit him upside the head.

“It wasn't!” James hisses, swatting my arm away like a pesky fly.

“She's asleep, James!”

“No, she's faking it! I saw her! You two are trying to pull the wool over my eyes, but I
won't stand for it—” I grab a chunk of his dressing robe, yanking him back.

“What are you talking about?” I whisper, fully aware of Gracie's stirring form and our
rising voices.

“You're all lying, she's downstairs—” James continues loudly, wriggling free.

“Shhhh, you'll wake her!” I scold, hanging onto him.

“Why don't you quiet down!” James retorts, raising his voice defiantly.

“*S-S-irius?”*

I whip around and James freezes. Gracie has emerged from her fluffy throne and raised herself up
on one elbow. I hold my breath as she groggily searches the doorway without bothering to open her
eyes. Calling out Sirius's name again, she yawns before she even finishes the final
syllable.

“No!” I clamp my hand over James's mouth before he can even think of answering.

“S-S-sirius, I - I think I would like to -to - g-go …” Gracie trails off into incoherent
mumbling, slumping down wearily upon the mound of pillows.

“Go back to sleep,” I whisper to Gracie, pulling James from the room. But judging by the
unladylike snores coming from amongst the bob of black hair and marshmallow-like pillows, she never
was fully awake to begin with. For some odd reason this causes me to snigger as I shut the door
behind us.

I take the liberty to hit James a second time, this time getting a good swipe at his chest.

“What's the matter with you? You just woke her up!” I scold him, trying to hit him again,
but James sidesteps me.

“Hardly, she won't remember a thing in the morning, and if I remember correctly, wasn't
it your idea to go wake her?”

“Only because you thought we were breaking the law.” I snort.

“We can continue this argument downstairs where we won't be waking anyone.” He moves the
candlestick to his other hand and I feel his fingers close over mine. I had every intention of
heading back to my room, seriously, but I know that I can't leave this discussion unfinished.
Besides, I want my revenge. I lost two hours of sleep over this insufferable boy. No one messes
with my REM cycles, especially not pretty-boy Potter.

I allow James to lead me downstairs, since he's the one who has the stupid candle and in the
dark I can't seem to remember the way to the kitchen. That's where I assume we're going
or at least that's where I hope we're going. If James has other ideas, so help me I will
kick his butt from here to Timbuktu. So anyway, we reach the foyer, and now I remember where the
kitchen is; it's the door with the crack of light spilling under it. How nice of them to leave
the lights on for us, it's almost as if they're expecting us…

“Sirius is asleep?” I ask again.

“Yeah,” James admits hesitantly.

“Maybe it's your mom…”

“Maybe…” he answers with an unconvincing smile.

“Or perhaps your dad…” I suggest.

James shrugs, discarding this idea with a murmur about work and sleeping.

“It's probably just Faye, I mean Teddy. Well, Faye always left the light on. She was always
ready to get us a snack if we needed one; she was like Sirius's personal chef.” He laughs
softly and then smiles wistfully at some fond memory. “I wish you could've met her,” he
whispers. Perhaps he's talking about the house-elf Faye or maybe he's talking about someone
else - a particular aunt whose image was also triggered by the happy memory. I squeeze his hand and
he gives me a smile, pushing the door open.

The kitchen's empty.

I frown and step inside. James sets the candle down on the table, and immediately finds a lone
coffee cup sitting at one end of the table. A sliver of steam floats up from the milky depths; a
scent of coffee beans, hazelnut perhaps, accosts our sensitive noses.

“Perhaps Gracie's been here after all,” James laughs, nodding at the still steaming coffee
cup.

“Nah, she hates coffee.” I take a seat across from the mysterious cup, and James moves toward
the stove where a kettle sits still boiling hot.

“I know, I hate coffee, too. It's all Sirius's fault.” I raise my eyebrows and he shakes
his head with a laugh. “It's a long story, but basically Sirius decided that it might be nice
to replace my coffee with something else…”

“What was it?” I ask curiously.

“You don't want to know.” James wrinkles his nose in disgust and I shudder. He picks up the
bag of hazelnut with a puzzled expression, before replacing it in one of the polished cabinets.
“Tea for you?”

“Do you even have to ask?” I grin and James chuckles, busying himself with the tea. I tap my
fingers on the countertop, wondering who would be coming back for the cup, which was obviously only
poured a minute or two before our arrival.

“Here.” He hands me one of the teacups, sliding into the seat beside me.

“Thanks.” I smile up at him gratefully and take a sip of the warm tea. Mmmm. James, though he
can be a down right git, sure knows how to make tea perfectly.

“So what's all this about a conspiracy and illegal activities?” I ask, putting down the cup
with a sly grin.

“Don't look at me like that, Lily,” James sighs.

“Like what?” I ask.

“Like you don't know what I'm talking about!” he elaborates.

“But I honestly don't know what you're talking about! You're ranting like a lunatic
about Gracie being downstairs, when we just saw her in bed, fast asleep!” I say, frustrated.

“But I saw *her*!” James suddenly points toward the doorway where a wide-awake Gracie
suddenly saunters into the kitchen to reclaim her steaming coffee.

“Gracie!” I gasp.

“Bonjour!” Gracie greets us, raising her coffee mug in an over exaggerated toasting gesture. She
takes a hearty sip of it, and lowers it with a grin—a strange, unfamiliar grin, one that I've
seen before but seems oddly out of place on my best friend's face.

“I didn't know you knew French,” I laugh.

“I don't.” Gracie shrugs sheepishly.

“What are you doing up?” I ask conversationally, since Gracie's obviously not quite awake,
because she's not acting like herself at all. Her voice sounds funny, her eyes look too dark
and her hair even looks different, though I suppose it could be blamed on the lighting or bed
head.

“I couldn't sleep,” she replies, her dark eyes darting around the room.

I snort into my teacup, spitting out tea all over the table.

“That's a lie, Gracie. You were sound asleep seconds ago.”

“No,” Gracie tilts her head to the side, surveying me with one of her foreign looks, one that
I've seen before but I can't remember where. “I've been up for almost an hour.”

“Gracie, don't try to deny it!” I giggle, wiping the tea off of the table. “You were
snoring.”

“I don't snore,” Gracie says seriously, the grin fading from her lips. I laugh again, the
rest of my tea nearly sloshing out of my teacup and onto my dressing gown. I turn to James, but
James has left his seat and is standing behind me, staring at Gracie as if she's suddenly
morphed into a hippogriff.

“Yes, you do,” I argue.

“You don't know that,” Gracie counters with that serious tone of hers which almost has me
fooled, almost.

“I do. Gracie, I've roomed with you for almost seven years; trust me, I think I would know
if you snored or not,” I laugh.

“I don't even know you.”

I look up at her, shocked because there's no hint of amusement in her eyes, or any sign of a
grin on her lips. Her eyes are so dark that they look brown—wait, they are brown! She looks
strange, funny, oddly familiar, but at the same time, strikingly different.

“Gracie, are you okay?” I reach for her hand, partly to calm my own fears since I'm starting
to feel sick because I'm obviously hallucinating.

Gracie snatches her hand from the table and suddenly rises from her seat.

“Stop calling me Gracie. I already told you I don't speak French,” she answers.

“Your name's French?” I ask, bewildered at the turn of this conversation. I am. I'm
dreaming, or I'm hallucinating because her hair's different now, too. It's longer and
curlier… I blink but the illusion isn't going away.

“No, I'm not French!” She frowns.

“But-” I stutter.

“My name's not Gracie.”

“Gracie, what's the matter with you?” I ask exasperatedly.

“It's Hope!” she yells, slamming a hand down on the table. Her coffee cup jumps, and my tea
cup tips over. The hot tea runs over my hand, pooling on the tabletop and dripping off the edge,
but I barely notice any of this. I blink, too stunned to speak.

“What?” James asks in a strangled voice.

She leans across the table, her unmistakably brown eyes level with James' hazel ones.

“My. Name. Is. HOPE!”

I catch my breath and hold it. The room tilts and tips, a wave of nausea sweeps through me. My
hands grip the edge of the table and I try to hang on as my world is suddenly turned into a
merry-go-round from hell. I could've sworn she just said that she was Hope… Of course, it could
be just a coincidence, but I have seen her before and she does bear a resemblance to Gracie,
Heather and Hope, *the* Hope and that girl…

I gasp aloud, my hand flying to my mouth. James shoves me out of the way - I forgot he was even
there - and whips out his wand. There's a dangerous light in his eyes and his hand is shaking
uncontrollably with barely restrained anger.

“Who the hell are you?” he asks furiously in a quivering voice.

“I'm Hope,” Hope repeats with a voice void of fear, but she keeps one eye on James and the
other on his wand.

James's eyes flicker. A shudder passes through his body, his wand shaking violently. A
strange noise, halfway between a sob and a yell escapes his lips. Suddenly, before I can stop him,
he lunges, one hand grabbing her throat, the other pushing her up against the wall.

“Tell me who the hell you really are and why you're playing this sick joke or I will hex you
until you don't even recognize yourself or know your *real* name,” he threatens, his eyes
sparkling with unshed tears.

“Are you deaf? I already told you, I'm Hope Moon!” she responds angrily, straightening her
shoulders and drawing herself up to her full height. “I should be asking who you are James
*Potter* and what you're doing living in *my* house!”

James loses it at this point.

“JAMES, NO!”

But of course the thick git never listens to me. He fires a hex at her, but she deflects it with
her wand, which I'd noticed she'd been discreetly drawing from her pocket.

“STOP!” I cry.

A second spell hits the wall, narrowly missing her head. James is suddenly thrown across the
room onto his back. That's it, I've had enough.

“*EXPELLIARMUS!”* I scream.

Both wands fall at my feet, and I hastily bend down and pick them up.

“Are you okay?” I ask James immediately.

“No!” he replies, glaring at the girl. But he sits up, completely unharmed.

“Did he hit you?” I ask, turning to the girl.

She glares back at James, but shakes her head. Her hair's smoking where the spell just
grazed her head and beside her on the wall is a blackened spot where the spell eventually hit.

“Give me back my wand!” James demands. “She's a raving lunatic!”

“Not yet,” I tell him quietly. There's something that I need to do first, something that I
want to find out before I give James back his wand. I can't help it, I'm curious, and I
can't shake the idea that I've seen this girl before, not once but on several occasions. I
know her…

“Hope.”

Reluctantly she turns away from James and brings her eyes back to me. Again I'm reminded of
the many times that I've seen those eyes before, the latest memory sticks out in my mind, but
several other hazy images are vying for my attention as well.

I point my wand at the nearest chair, reminding her that I mean business. She frowns, but sits
down without protest, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. I swallow, wondering where to
begin. There's so much I want to ask her, and yet she's insane, she has to be.

“You better explain yourself,” I suggest quietly, pocketing the other two wands.

“Explain myself?” Hope exclaims, her eyes flashing. “What do you want me to tell you? You're
one of many strangers living in *my* house!”

“This is *my* house now!” James hisses, appearing at my side.

“*Yours*?” Hope snorts. “The house has been in the family of the Moons for generations,
I've lived here since the day I was born. And now all of a sudden you all drop in as if you own
the place, eating our food, sleeping in our beds, attacking me in the halls, disturbing my
ancestors-”

“I knew it!” I yell triumphantly because now I know where I've seen her before. I can
finally place the memory. In the dark, relying on only the weak light of a wand, looking over the
doors…

“*I just came over to help you look, James told me…” I tell her, studying her face, which,
clouded in shadows, now looks strange and unfamiliar. Her dark eyes flit across my face and slowly
she lowers the wand.*

“*Oh, James did? Okay,” she says reluctantly in a voice that doesn't quite sound like her
own. She turns around rather quickly, returning to her original position in front of the door. I
light my wand and crouch down beside her.*

“*This is it,” she decides after a minute of examining it.*

“*I'll take your word for it, Gracie.”*

*She gives me a funny look as we get to our feet.*

“*What?” I ask, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her eyes, which in this light seem
unnaturally dark.*

“*Nothing,” she giggles. “It's just that you called me Gr—never mind.” She shakes her
head, a weird smile crossing her face. I watch her closely as she lifts her hand, passing it over
the door. The hand's scratched and scarred, probably from our ordeal, but it looks as if she
attempted to heal it, or Sirius, perhaps, judging by how horribly it was done. The door shimmers
and opens. She smiles at me and steps through.*

“What is it, Lily?” James asks, shaking my shoulders and disrupting the video replaying in my
mind of the final minutes in the tomb. I ignore him, reaching for the girl's right hand. She
recoils, pulling her sleeve up and over it. I raise my eyes to hers.

“Let me see it,” I say softly.

She rolls up her sleeve, exposing the familiar scarred, scratched hand that even now, still
remains unhealed.

“*Gracie, I watched you open it with my own eyes!” I frown.*

“*But that was with James,” Gracie repeats impatiently.*

“*No, it wasn't!”*

*I saw her do it! She was standing here only a minute ago!*

“*We can argue about this later.” Gracie lifts the same hand that I watched her use before,
the one that's not holding her wand. She's the only person I know who is left handed,
therefore using their left arm as their wand arm. Her right hand moves to the door, and I notice
that the scars that were there only moments before have disappeared.*

*I gape, staring at her hand. I grab at it, but Gracie pulls away.*

“*What's wrong with you, Lily?” she asks.*

“*But you - you already opened it,” I stammer. “And your hand, it's healed…”*

“You were there that night,” I realize, running my hands over the scars. Hope winces, and
wrenches her hand from mine. “You were there that night, in the tomb, I spoke with you. You were
the one who found the door,” I whisper.

Hope nods, keeping her eyes on her scarred hand.

“*I don't need you to hold my hand Lily, I'm perfectly capable of walking.”*

“*I wasn't holding your hand, I swear!”*

“I wasn't hallucinating,” I continue softly.

“*My eyes Sirius! Lower that thing before you make me permanently blind!”*

“*I don't even have my wand with me, Lily!”*

“*Well, then what was it, a ghost?”*

“You were there with us and you were the ghost in the graveyard that I saw as we were leaving,”
I recall, remembering the frightening presence slipping between the tombstones.

“Yes.” Hope finally lifts her head, meeting my eyes once more. “I saved your silly arses, Mr.
Potter's included, and instead of thanking me, you attack me,” she snarls at James.

“I'd do it again if Lily would give me my wand back because you're either crazy or
you're a ghost,” James growls, leaning over my shoulder and into Hope's face.

“I'm not a ghost!” Hope cries, jumping to her feet, knocking her chair clean to the floor.
“I'm solid! I'm alive!”

“That's debatable,” I mutter.

“Do I look like a ghost to you? Am I transparent? No. I was drinking hot chocolate, was I not?
Ghosts can't drink.” She takes another sip of her hot chocolate to disprove this theory. She
points at the overturned chair, knocks smartly on the table, and hits James to prove that she can
touch him as well.

“Then you're a poltergeist,” James insists, but he looks doubtful and confused, like a child
that's realizing that Santa Claus may not be real after all.

Hope glares at him. James glares back at her. Then suddenly Hope cracks up laughing.

James and I exchange a worried glance, as Hope rights her overturned chair and sits back down,
howling with laughter.

“Laughing like that is a sign of madness,” James whispers to me. “I'm going to stun
her.”

“Don't you dare!” I slap a hand over my pocket, preventing him from retrieving his wand.

“Lily, you can't be serious! She's nuts!” he hisses, furiously gesturing to the wildly
laughing Hope at the kitchen table.

I can't really disagree with him.

“She was the one who got us out of the tomb James,” I remind him softly.

“Exactly!” James exclaims exasperatedly. “That just adds to the evidence!”

Again I can't disagree with him, but I refuse to allow him to harm her. At least not until
I'm able to verify that she is indeed an insane woman claiming to be someone that's dead,
that goes around raiding tombs, and seriously needs the help of St. Mungo's Insanity Ward.
I'm disappointed to note that laughing wildly for no apparent reason certainly isn't
helping our situation.

“You know,” Hope giggles, wiping at her streaming eyes several minutes later. “That's what
they said too, when I first told them.”

“Who?” James asks.

“You know, *them*.” Hope lowers her voice dramatically, making her eyes go round.

You know, I take it back, she has to be insane. Next she's going to start talking about the
voices in her head.

“*They* said I'm not supposed to talk to anyone,” she whispers conspiringly.

My suspicions are confirmed. I change my mind. This girl needs some serious help. James gives me
a meaningful, pleading look, and against my better judgment I hand him his wand.

“They said you'd react this way anyway,” she continues quietly. “But I didn't listen to
them. And they were right.” She sniffs and wipes at her eyes, which are now filled with tears. She
starts to sob loudly, occasionally mumbling and moaning something incoherent.

“…W-where is ever-r-ryone…I don't, d-d-don't like it h-h-ere… ” she blurts out between
sobs.

“Stun her,” James mouths as the girl suddenly becomes hysterical again.

“…TAKE ME BACK! I WANT TO GO HOME!” she screams in a full-range tantrum.

“You do it,” I mouth back.

But James cowers, and I realize that I'm going to have to do it. Even though she's
screaming and ranting like she's insane, there's something so heartbreakingly familiar
about her tears and screams, that I can't bring myself to even cast a full body bind, let alone
a harmful stunning spell. As I step closer I remember Gracie, breaking down, mad at the world, and
Tiffany…

“*I want to go home.”*

I can't do this.

I kneel down in front of Hope, gently placing the wand down on the ground beside me.

“Hope,” I whisper tentatively.

Hope quiets her sobs, looking up at me with a pair of large brown eyes. She's scared,
terrified, afraid of me, of James, of all of this. And I know I've seen those eyes before, not
in a tomb, but in the form of a child…

“What happened to you?” I ask softly in a voice I would normally use with a very young child
because even now, in the form of a teenager probably older than me, I see her as a six-year-old
child ready to flee.

“I don't know!” Hope wails, burying her head into her hands. “I don't know.”

Neither do I. and there lies the problem. I'm not even sure what the heck she is, because
she can't possibly be a ghost. She looks solid. I lay a hand on her shoulder and my hand stays
in place. Yes, she's still solid. I lift my hand, recoiling. But then…what the hell is she?

“Get away from her!”

My heart stops at the sound of the unfamiliar baritone. I feel someone grab my arm, pulling me
forcefully to my feet. I relax somewhat when I see it's only James who's got me.

“What-”

James pinches me, hard. I shut my mouth and follow his gaze back to Hope. Someone else has
joined our midnight gathering uninvited.

James's father.

**A/N: Sorry I meant to get this up a lot faster but my computer crashed. I used to laugh at
people when they used this excuse but then my sister actually did get a virus on my computer and I
didn't use it for weeks until I was finally able to get it fixed. But anyway school's
started so updates might be slow though I still have a lot of chapters that are ready to go after
edits for this site.** **Let me know what you think!**

-->



19. Caught
----------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer:** *Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling*

**A/N:** **Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really think that you'll
enjoy this one even though it is rather long.**

**Chapter 18: Caught**

The man, who I've barely seen since I got here a week ago, keeps us at bay with a commanding
stare that isn't quite as harsh as a glare. James and I stay where we are, barely daring to so
much as breathe. He walks past us and approaches Hope, who's hunched over and silently crying
into her hands.

“Hope?” he asks, his face softening.

He stoops down so that his eyes are level with hers. He sweeps a hand over her hair, a paternal
gesture, squeezing her shoulders.

“Hope, it's me, Danny,” he continues softly, but Hope isn't responding, much like Gracie
after her parents had died. It's amazing how similar she is to Gracie.

“Danny” gives it up as a hopeless case, as if this isn't unfamiliar to him. He straightens,
running a hand through his messy hair, looking remarkably like his son who seems to have forgotten
about his strong hold on my arm. I should remind him, because I think my arm's starting to
tingle. It might be going numb…

Danny holds out one of his hands, palm up as if trying to catch rain. He tilts his head,
concentrating on the ceiling.

“Heather,” he calls wearily.

*POP!*

The woman materializes at his side. Dressed in a nightgown and hugging a thick quilt to her
shoulders, she blinks groggily but wears a worried frown.

“You must've noticed the wards need to be replaced, I thought it could wait until the
morning…” she stops immediately when she notices her son and me.

“Goodness, it's nearly one, what are you two doing up at this hour?” she asks.

James and I stammer out some lame excuses.

“We couldn't sleep-”

“I was really thirsty-”

“The snoring was too loud-”

“And the bed bugs were biting-”

That last one was all James, and I thought he was the experienced liar.

Danny lays his hands on his wife's quilted shoulders, and gently steers her away from us and
toward the sniveling girl in the corner.

“OH!” Her hand flies to her mouth and she rushes toward Hope. She doesn't look the least bit
surprised as she scoops the girl up into her arms with that incredible maternal strength that all
mothers seem to have. But maybe she's mistaking her for Gracie as I so often did. However,
James's Dad, he called her *Hope*.

“What happened?” she asks her husband, as Hope slumps in her arms.

“Why don't you ask your son?” Danny folds his arms across his chest, nodding toward us.
Heather looks at us and her eyes widen. She glances back at him, and then at us, holding the
motionless Hope protectively to her chest.

“How long have you been there?” she interrogates, forgetting the fact that she saw us when she
first Apparated into the kitchen.

“We came down for some tea, and then she comes in…” James trails off, and I realize that this
one time, we should've lied.

“You mean…” Heather seems at a loss for words as she continues, “you know… did she…?” she looks
as if her head's swimming, but Danny quickly reads our unguarded expressions.

“You spoke with her.”

He knows we know. I look down at my feet, and James bows his head as well.

“Look at me.”

Obediently, James and I lift our heads and look him in the eye. He directs us to the two nearest
chairs and takes a seat himself in front of us. Heather attends to Hope, rocking her like a baby,
and I realize that she's putting her to sleep. She nods to her husband, keeping her eyes
trained on us.

“One of you, tell me what happened here.” He takes off his glasses, and wipes them on his shirt
before putting them back on. “And don't leave anything out,” he adds as an afterthought.

James and I have a quick silent argument to see which one of us will have to do the explaining.
With a well-aimed kick to James' left shin, I win. James grimaces and glares at me, but Mr.
Potter clears his throat. James quickly starts to explain what happened when we found Hope's
steaming mug of coffee in the kitchen.

His voice fills the room. Danny listens intently, leaning forward in his chair. Heather sits on
the floor, still rocking Hope, though the girl fell asleep long ago and started to snore softly. I
watch him with rapt attention, letting his voice wash over me like a warm ray of sunlight streaming
in through a window. He moves his arm sometimes, without knowing, giving his words a powerful
effect. Every time he lifts his arm, it brushes against mine, and I find myself waiting, almost
hoping for him to move his arm again. When he finishes and the silence has settled, I'm still
looking at him, still watching his face, still longing for him to lift his arm again, just so that
he'll touch me again.

What the hell?

I blink, pressing a hand to my forehead. I really am coming down with something. I ought to get
this checked out by Madam Pomfrey, hallucinations and insane thoughts in the wizarding world can be
deadly.

“Come on, Lily.”

“Huh?”

James takes my hand. I slide off the stool, and let him lead me from the room. The door swings
on its hinges, nearly catching me on the back swing but James pulls me out of the way. Suddenly, he
turns me around and pushes me up against the wall. My breath hitches and my eyes widen.

“James!” I squeak when I finally find my voice.

“Sshhh…” He presses a finger to his lips, and points to the swinging door, which finally closes.
Behind the door, James' parents are having a whispered conversation. I realize that they
probably told us to leave the room so that they could talk but that in their haste they must've
forgotten to place a silencing charm on the door.

“The wards needed to be replaced,” Heather is quietly saying to her husband, “I knew this was
going to happen, I told you I didn't want them all here for Christmas.”

“It's not their fault and it's not hers either, someone was bound to find out no matter
what we tried to do,” Danny tries to placate her but Heather ignores him.

“This is the third time it's happened, Danny; if she catches one more glimpse of Gracie I
think she's going to go insane!”

“She's already bloody insane, Heather! She's forty-one-years-old and she's been
trapped in the body of a sixteen-year-old,” he argues, his voice rising.

“It's better than being six, like when Gracie first found her wandering around the house,”
Heather hisses.

“You know as much as I do, Heather,” Danny lowers his voice before continuing, “that they
would've killed her if they tried to do anything else for her. It's a miracle she's
even alive now, if Crowley hadn't stopped them when he did…”

I hear a sob and realize that Heather's started to cry.

“Don't cry,” Danny whispers. “She's alive.”

“Crowley's dead though,” Heather chokes out.

There's a long pause, a very long pause.

“You're right, they murdered him. He was one of the brightest men we had on the team,
dedicated whole-heartedly to fighting the dark and he was the only one who…”

Another long pause and suddenly it strikes me that they're talking about Tiffany's dad.
I remember that he worked for the Ministry before he was murdered at the Ministry ball last
weekend. I lean closer to the door and James, straining to hear the rest, but whatever Danny was
mumbling remained a mystery to me.

“Heather, I think someone knows,” Danny confesses suddenly.

“Of course, James and his girlfriend found out and I wouldn't be surprised if they've
already told Sirius and Gracie.”

I AM NOT HIS GIRLFRIEND! Why do they keep thinking that we're an item or something? So what
if they found us in the kitchen together in the middle of the night? Lots of people go down to the
kitchen in the middle of the night together, loads; it's perfectly normal. It means nothing,
nada, zip, zero, zilch.

“I think someone on the inside, Heather, someone who knew that Crowley was involved and Sammy
Thomas…”

“No,” Heather gasps. “You don't think they were killed because of their involvement, do you?
But Marlene McKinnon…she had nothing to do with it!”

“I'm not saying all of them, Heather, but isn't it strange that Sammy and Crowley were
picked out?”

Heather's silent for a long time before her husband finally breaks the silence.

“She can't stay here, Heather. If there is someone on the inside who knew about Crowley and
Thomas, it will only be a matter of time before they follow the trail back here.” Danny takes a
breath before adding, “Besides, they're destroying what's left of her mind with these
tests. They're not making any progress. Whatever it was that the Death Eaters did to her no one
seems to be able to break it.”

“They might be able to…” Heather starts weakly, but Danny cuts her off.

“I think we should wait like Crowley suggested, her memory might return with due time.” He
pauses and then suggests, “And it might help if we send her away for a bit.”

“NOT ST. MUNGO'S!” Heather screams.

“No, no, ssshhhh…” Danny seems to be calming his wife. “No, not St. Mungo's. I don't
think she can take much more of that place. I was thinking of somewhere else, somewhere safer…”

“What could be safer than her own home?” Heather asks.

“Hogwarts.”

I steal a look at James. The shocked expression on his face probably mirrors my own. They
can't be serious. I lean against the wall, listening to Heather's responding gasp.
She's just as stunned as we are. James tiptoes closer to the door, tugging on my hand. He nods
toward the crack between the swinging door and the adjoining wall. I crouch a little, putting my
eye to the crack. James does the same, his chin just skimming the top of my hair.

Inside I can see Danny holding an obviously shaken Heather in his arms.

“Are you mad?” Heather pulls free from his arms, stepping back.

“Think about it, Heather; she'd be under Dumbledore's watch, she'd be kept occupied
and she does remember vaguely attending Hogwarts. Maybe it'll trigger some other memories…”

Heather turns her back on him, thinking it over.

“No, Danny, it won't work,” she says finally, shaking her head.

“Give me one reason why it wouldn't work.” He places a firm hand on her shoulder, spinning
her around.

“Gracie,” Heather replies.

Danny falters, he hadn't been thinking of this. Heather seems to have won this argument. How
would Gracie react to this girl, who's allegedly her dead mother in teenage form? I think
she'd go off the deep end. It would have been like the confrontation with James, except Gracie
would probably blow her up before she even has the chance to talk. Yeah, I don't see
mother/daughter bonding in the future, the family reunion is probably not a good idea.

Suddenly, Danny snaps his fingers.

“We'll disguise her.”

Heather snorts and folds her arms over her chest.

“And I suppose we'll brainwash her as well, because somehow I don't see how my
forty-one-year-old sister who's memory's been practically destroyed, is going to deal with
classes and new faces and changes on top of all the side effects of the curse they used on
her.”

Again Danny is silenced by his quick-thinking wife.

“She does remember some things…mostly of her childhood, but at least she's acting like
she's sixteen. That part of the therapy worked…”

“Still, Danny, you saw how quick she blew her cover to James and his girlfriend.”

“*Classmate,”* I correct her very quietly. James sniggers and I swear Danny looked briefly
in the direction of the door.

“She remembers that she lived here at one point and that Gracie, Sirius, James and his
girlfriend-”

“*Classmate*,” I hiss. Once again James sniggers and Danny's eyes seem to mysteriously
find their way back to our hiding place for a split second.

“-shouldn't be here. She keeps looking for Mark and Harry and having these break downs,
because she's confused and lost and only has half her memory-”

“We don't know that for sure,” Danny interrupts, but Heather keeps going.

“At least here we can keep a close eye on her - but sending her to Hogwarts…that might be a
mistake,” she finishes, looking at her husband seriously.

Danny sits thoughtfully in silence. Heather sits down on one of the chairs, watching and waiting
for his response. I can hear James breathing beside me, and my own heavy breathing seems to come at
a noisy pant. James must think I'm a rabid animal. I inhale, hold it, and let it out slow and
quiet. And repeat, nice and slow, gentle and quiet. But it does no good. My breathing increases,
because suddenly I'm aware of how close we are to each other. My leg tingles, obviously falling
asleep, so I shift my weight to the opposite side, closer to James. Shoot! Hopefully he doesn't
notice—please, please don't notice. Merlin only knows what the boy might think.

“So, what we need is another pair of eyes.” Danny's voice floats through the forgotten
kitchen.

Oh, damn! James is looking at me. James sees me looking at him, shit.

“Lily?” he breathes.

I can't even muster the power to respond, my throats dry, very dry, and even as I lick my
lips my voice won't come.

“I think-” He stops, his eyes on my lips. “I think,” he starts again, “that maybe, we should
leave, before we're cau-” He falters as if forgetting the word entirely that should've
ended his sentence. Inside the kitchen Danny and Heather continue to speak but James and I seem to
be having a silent conversation without words or sounds.

“I have a solution to that problem.”

“Oh you do, do you?”

“Yes.”

James is still staring at my lips. Wow, I never noticed his eyelashes. When we're this close
they're actually rather long and dark, almost in that handsome-sexy-dark-mysterious-stranger
kind of way. You know, the guy every girl fantasizes about. The glasses seem to magnify the look,
making him look even better.

Oh my god.

He's leaning closer to me.

Is he… He is! His hand's creeping up, he's getting too close, WAY too close. I can't
move. I don't want to move…

Shut your eyes.

Step away from him.

Close your eyes!

Run, run, RUN!

I - I - I -

DO SOMETHING!

*SMACK!*

Something hits me hard, and I fly backwards. Suddenly sprawled on the floor, I look up through
watering eyes at Danny. A smile seems to be teasing the corners of his mouth, and his eyes sparkle
momentarily with a boyish mischief. He must've hit us with the door when he pushed it open.
Damn door.

Beside me James sits up with a groan. A tiny spot of crimson stains the temple of his handsome
face.

“You're bleeding,” I point out the obvious.

Without thinking, I touch the cut and wipe the miniscule amount of blood carefully with the end
of my sleeve.

“Thanks,” James whispers, smiling.

I blush.

Danny coughs meaningfully from the doorway. I forgot he was even there. I blush again, as an
embarrassed James helps me to my feet. Danny folds his arms over his chest, staring us down with
what should have been a stern glare if it hadn't been for the boyish light still dancing in his
bespectacled eyes.

“James, what did I tell you about eavesdropping?” he asks, glaring.

“Don't do it,” James responds, but he adds quietly, “if you're going to be caught.”

Danny winks at his son, holding the door open for us.

James hesitates, sending his father a quizzical glance.

“James, you must know your old man better by now. If I hadn't wanted you to over hear that,
I would've put a silencing charm up.”

“But- you mean-” James looks thoroughly confused as we walk into the now empty kitchen.

“Yes, I wanted you to hear that,” he elaborates, ushering us into two seats.

“But why?” I blurt out, wondering if the man's lost his marbles.

“I thought you were listening.” Danny smirks.

“We were…” James trails off. I steal a look at him and I swear he blushes. I turn away to hide
my own flushed cheeks from his father's knowing eyes.

Nothing happened, I don't know why I'm blushing. I just got a bit distracted, that's
all. He was standing way to close to me and I was planning on giving him a piece of my mind,
getting ready to show him the strength of my hand.

What?

Honestly, I was!

Danny chuckles, muttering something about “young love.” Let him think what he wants, see what I
care. I know the truth. Potter's love is unrequited. I'm only blushing because I'm
embarrassed that his dad would even think of such a thing. It has nothing to do with the fact that
my hormones might have gotten the best of me for just a millisecond - all right maybe a second or
two… Potter's a jerk, but I can't deny that he's a very attractive member of the
opposite sex. Urgh. What am I saying? Why am I even entertaining these thoughts? Potter's a
jerk, nothing less, nothing more.

Still, he's an attractive jerk. A very attractive jerk.

Don't even think about it.

I'm not!

“As I was saying before, we want to send Hope to Hogwarts.”

James and I nod, having heard this absurd idea only a few minutes before.

“She'll be safer there; she'll have to take on a new identity and a disguise as well,
but we think it's for the best.” He goes on about the precautions he'll have to take. My
mind keeps wandering though back to the boy sitting next to me. I discreetly glance in his
direction, to look at the window obviously, and just happen to notice that he's in some sort of
shock.

I don't blame him.

If my aunt came back from the dead, I think I'd have checked myself into St. Mungo's by
now.

I grab his hand, purely for comforting and reviving purposes, and give it a squeeze. James looks
over at me with the tiniest of smiles and then turns back to his father with renewed undivided
attention.

“-that's where you two will come in,” Danny finishes, and I realize with another stab of
embarrassment that I didn't hear a word he was saying. Danny sighs, realizing that either
neither of us were actually listening to him or that we have the intelligence level equivalent to
that of a full-grown flobber worm.

“You're going to watch over Hope at Hogwarts. You're going to be her personal guides,
the sole students that will know her true identity and what is at stake if it happens to leak out,”
he repeats slowly.

“Do you understand?” he asks, lowering his face so that he can look both of us in the eye.

No. But I nod anyway.

“Good, get to bed.” Danny gets up, stretching out his arms with a yawn.

But James and I stay seated. Danny looks at us expectantly and then frowns.

“Um, what exactly is at stake?” James asks timidly.

Danny blinks, but his expression quickly turns from incredibility to severity.

“Our lives,” he answers gravely, before sweeping out of the room, leaving both of us in a
stunned silence.

I sit in the silence, letting it all sink in slowly.

Hope's alive.

Well, sort of.

And she's coming to Hogwarts, with me and James and… Gracie. A secret's been told to me,
one that could destroy many lives, and the one person I'm not allowed to tell, above all
others, is my best friend, who happens to be Hope's daughter.

I'm still in shock and so is James.

“James.”

James is back in his own little world, or maybe he's just ignoring me. I exaggerate a yawn,
nudge him with my shoulder, unintentionally of course, and tell him I'm going to bed. James
ignores me.

I stand up and get all the way to the door before I change my mind. I retrace my steps, taking
his hand and gently tugging on it. He looks up at me and wordlessly gets to his feet. He towers
over me, and for an instant I wonder what it would feel like if I suddenly pulled him to me and
kissed him. What if I had followed through with that moment outside the kitchen? This thought
obviously doesn't linger long, I mean honestly, it's big-headed Potter but sometimes I
wonder if he has a split personality and if it would be possible to separate the two…

“It's New Year's Day, did you know that?” he asks suddenly.

I shake my head because I lost track of the days long ago. It seems like years ago when we left
the station with a grumbling Tiffany who still had a father.

“It doesn't feel like it,” I whisper, remembering the lousy Christmas I spent playing chess
with James and Sirius and the funeral, which obviously put a damper on things.

“No, it doesn't,” James agrees, distantly.

I watch as his face takes on a look of nostalgia, his eyes suddenly far away.

“My aunt used to throw a big bash on New Year's Eve. She said that the last and first day of
the year were to be celebrated because you had a chance to recall all the good times of the
previous year and start off the new year right,” he reminiscences with a smile.

“One year she convinced our parents to portkey us all to Times Square.”

“You went to Times Square?” I ask. Times Square was someplace in America, New York, I think.
Supposedly they have this huge Muggle rally where everyone stands around and watches a ball blow up
or something.

“No,” James chuckles. “My aunt forgot about the millions of Muggles that were going to be there.
She then decided that she was going to take us to some American magical settlement, Salem. When we
got there though, there seemed to be some mistake. They laughed at us when she said she was looking
for the Witching Hour and told us that Halloween was two months ago, but they were more than happy
to redirect us to the Witch's Museum…”

James and I laugh realizing where he's headed with this. Salem, Massachusetts is famous for
being one of the oldest magical establishments in the States and infamous for their ridiculous
Muggles. The laughter dies quickly though, as the gravity of the situation weighs down upon us once
more.

Someone that was dead yesterday is now alive today and neither one of us have any idea how it
happened or how to handle it.

“What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?” James shakes his head, running a frustrated hand
through his untidy hair.

I step toward him, closing the space between us. I ponder his gorgeous eyes, thinking of how
easy it would be to take off his glasses and place them on the kitchen table. My eyes move to his
lips, but I carefully redirect my gaze, knowing that when we're back at school he won't be
the same. He won't give a damn about me.

Even so, I'm driven by some unexplainable instinct. Perhaps it's maternal, or maybe
it's just hormones. I hug him. His chin moves to the top of my head, his hands finding my back
and then sliding down to my waist. I close my eyes and let it linger.

“We'll figure something out,” I assure him.

“I know,” he sighs, stroking my hair. “Thank you.”

And then he lets go.

I step back and stare at him. I'm always amazed at how different James looks each time I
take a good look at him. He seems to be growing up, and yet I keep holding onto that childish image
of the pervert who'd stare and feel me up beneath the desk; the boy that was so full of himself
that I used to believe that he really wouldn't fit through the door, the boy that asked me out
a hundred times, the boy who's still secretly present and will reappear once we get to
Hogwarts, the boy that I can't forget.

“Come on, let's get some rest,” I whisper, touching his arm.

“Yeah.” He nods with a forced smile.

We head upstairs, only stopping at the top of the staircase where we go our separate ways.

“Well… Goodnight,” I say awkwardly.

“Goodnight,” James echoes softly.

We stay where we are, locked in place as if by some invisible force.

“Shoot,” James mutters.

“What?” I ask alarmed.

“We can't move.”

I realize he's right. No matter where I step, I can't go anywhere. There's
*literally* an invisible wall boxing me in. I suppress the wave of panic that rises in my
chest, especially when I notice that the only way I can go, James is blocking.

“James, please step aside.”

“I can't, Lily,” he says with an exasperated sigh.

“Why not?” I ask through gritted teeth, my hands clenching at my sides.

“Because… Can't you see it?” James asks, looking at me as if I'm an idiot. “We've
stepped into an Imobilia Charm,” he explains.

“I understand that, but what is it doing here?” I ask suspiciously.

“Sirius and I…”

I knew it. He's so guilty of the stupid trap. It's probably another one of his pranks
that he forgot about. Ha! Serves him right, at least it'll backfire on him as well. What a
pity, though, that I had to be another poor victim of one of his many thoughtless jokes. These
Marauders, they'll never grow up!

“I didn't think it worked, but apparently…” James trails off with a nervous laugh, his eyes
refusing to meet my steady glare.

“Just get us out of here,” I say, swallowing the urge to scold him. It won't do us any good
here. We might wake Gracie, Sirius or Merlin forbid, his parents again. I can only imagine how
James and I might explain ourselves.

“It's tricky, you see there's this *catch*…” Again the nervous laugh, and the eyes
moving to look at anything but me.

“James, just do it!” I blurt.

“Are you sure?” James asks hesitantly, looking at me for the first time.

“Hurry up!” I moan, knowing that the longer we stay out here, the more chance we have of getting
caught in this embarrassing position.

“All right, but you have to promise not to get mad…” James places his hands on my shoulders,
lowering his face to my level.

“James, will you just-!” I stop abruptly, realizing that he's leaning swiftly toward me,
zeroing in on my lips. His right hand's moved from my shoulder, cupping my face with
experienced fingers, a practiced, barely evident, caress on my cheek.

“Don't move,” he whispers.

As if I could move.

I can barely breathe.

“James…” I protest automatically, but the name falls weak and faint from my lips. I lick my
lips, and try again to form the words that will push him away.

But whatever it is that I want to say, I immediately forget. James closes the distance between
us, his lips silencing me, driving everything and anything out of my head. My eyes instinctively
flutter shut and tentatively I return the kiss. His hand wanders from my cheek, tangling itself in
my hair. At the feel of his fingers brushing nape of my neck, a pleasant shiver runs the length of
my spine, and I shudder against his chest.

“Lily,” James groans and releases me suddenly.

I sway on my feet, and stagger clumsily backwards into the opposite wall. Only then do I open my
eyes and look up at him in shock. He watches me, a silent struggle going on in the twitch of his
mouth and the hesitant step he takes in my direction.

Slowly I lift a trembling hand to my lips.

“You kissed me,” I realize.

I lean against the wall, still dazed from the kiss.

My *first* kiss.

“Look Lily, I'm-” James steps toward me, but suddenly a tinkling sound and a sparkle near
James's ear catches our attention and stops him in his tracks. I watch as with a flurry of
sparks, something attached to the ceiling crumbles and flutters to the floor between us. The plant
shrivels and dies, blackening and burning with the last of the sparks. James steps on it,
distinguishing the small fire with a quick stamp of his slipper. I inhale sharply.

*Mistletoe*.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at the floor.

“I'm - I'm sorry,” he apologizes with a slight stammer. “Look, Lily I-”

He reaches for me, jarring me out of whatever mysterious trance I've fallen into. I slip out
of his grasp and run.

I don't stop until I reach my room with the door safely shut behind me. Breathing heavily, I
lean against it, closing my eyes, a trembling hand returning again and again to my sensitive
lips.

He kissed me.

James Potter *kissed* me.

And I…I think I actually…*liked* it…

What the bloody hell is the matter with me?

I groan, silently slamming my head against the door repeatedly. Somebody check me into St.
Mungo's Insanity Ward. There has to be something wrong with my head. Please, help me! I'm
losing my mind!

I slide down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest.

This isn't supposed to happen to me.

I'm not supposed like it when he kisses me.

I hate him.

Remember?

He's almost always a jerk, a handsome heartbreaker, an attractive pervert who happens to be
currently obsessed with me…

What's happening to me?

What's wrong with me?

I bury my face into my hands and shut my eyes tight.

“I hate him.”

**A/N: Thanks to everyone that reviewed! So I hope you're all happy since this is a quick
update, a fairly long chapter, and Lily and James FINALLY have their kiss. Please review!**

-->



20. Disguised
-------------



**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!*

-->



21. Shattered
-------------



**I'll Fight For You**

**By Hazelmist/Summerskies**

**Disclaimer**: If anything unusual occurs, chances are it has nothing to do with Rowling and
everything to do with an over reactive imagination and several sleepless nights.

A/N: Sorry the update took so long. School has taken over my life.

**Chapter 20****: Shattered**

The winter break comes to an end just as suddenly as it began. It's hard to believe that
it's only been a fortnight since that dreadful night we spent in the mausoleum with the ghosts
and bodies of the Moons. Christmas, the attack at the Ministry Ball, even Tiffany's
father's funeral seem to all be a part of one giant blur that pales in comparison to the
startling discovery James and I made in the Potter's kitchen only three days ago. Hope Moon
Adams (Gracie's mother) thought to have been murdered with her husband and son Christopher back
in September, is actually very much alive and has been right under our nose the whole time. First
we found her in the form of a lost, forlorn child that wandered into my room, and then rediscovered
her as a feisty (but not exactly mentally stable) teenager that fought with us and revealed her
true identity. That same girl is the cause of my current troubles, as I recall the promise that
James and I made to James's father. That night we swore to watch out for the girl at Hogwarts,
help her heal and recover her memories and above all keep her identity a secret.

I'm torn between excitement and sadness as I look around the breakfast table at the people
I've been living with for the past two weeks. As weird as it may sound, they kind of became
like a family to me. Well, with the exception of Potter. (Who's currently shoveling food down
his throat faster than a speedy snitch.) Though he could easily fit the position of the
annoying-bratty-little-brother or perhaps the perverted-second-cousin, or maybe the
attractive-I-have-no-idea-how-but-I-wish-I-wasn't-related-to -

My thought process comes to a blessed halt. Did something just hit me? I reach up and touch my
forehead. I brush my shoulder off and examine my lap but it must've been my imagination. I
swear I'm going crazy. Insanity is the only possible explanation as to why I suddenly find
Potter attractive and why I might've enjoyed that little mistletoe kiss, not to mention the
fling that I was considering. Thank Merlin I squashed that nutty fantasy.

I dip my spoon into the bowl of hot cereal and bring it to my mouth. Heather or the house elf,
or whoever it is that makes the food, is an amazing cook, well at least that's what I thought,
until now. I start to swallow, separating a chunk of something that tastes remarkably like paper.
Disgusting! I grab my napkin fast and with a quick duck of my head, silently spit it out.

EEWWWW.

It was in fact a piece of paper. How it got into my bowl of cereal is a mystery. I make to close
up my napkin but something stops me. Is that writing on the paper? I glance to my left but Sirius
is too busy with his fourth bowl and Heather got up and went to the kitchen a while ago and
hasn't been back. I grimace but bravely poke at the paper with my spoon so that it unfolds and
I can read what it says.

"*Meet me upstairs*."

I crumple up my napkin with the note inside. Mystery solved. Only *he* would pull something
this stupid and gross. I catch James's eye, and give him one of my infamous death glares. James
gulps.

"Can someone help me in the kitchen?" Heather's sweet voice calls from the other
room.

Automatically I push back my chair, but Sirius beats both James and I to it.

"I'll help!" He runs into the kitchen, probably hoping that there will be a fifth
helping or a taste test involved.

"Look at the time!" Danny suddenly folds up *The Daily Prophet*. "I'm
sorry son I can't see you off, but have a good time and don't do anything I wouldn't
do." He winks and ruffles his son's hair.

"Take good care of him," he tells me, tipping an imaginary hat at me before running
into the kitchen to say his goodbyes to the rest.

I check to make sure that the others are safely distracted in the kitchen and then throw my
napkin into his breakfast. James's mouth drops open giving me a wonderful view of what he
forgot to swallow.

"What was that for?" James asks as he swallows and picks the dirty napkin out of the
bowl.

"What do you think?" I shoot back.

Realization dawns on his face and he laughs.

"It's not funny, you ruined my meal." I scowl and fold my arms on the table.

With a sigh, James stifles a final laugh. He pushes his bowl aside and leans forward in his
seat.

"I'm sorry, alright? I was aiming for your head, but it must've fallen into your
bowl," he apologizes.

"There's no excuse-" I hiss, leaning across the table.

"How else was I supposed to get your attention?" James demands loudly.

"Lower your voice," I whisper, stealing a glance at the kitchen door which was left
ajar. James rolls his eyes but I notice that he pauses for a moment, listening intently and does in
fact lower his voice significantly.

"I need to talk to you," he says softly.

"About what?" I ask my heart quickening. "Why don't we just discuss it right
here?"

"Because I need to talk to you about…" he trails off when he hears the sound of
approaching footsteps but I have a feeling I know exactly what he wants to talk about.

"I'll meet you up there," I tell him pushing back my chair. "Wait five
minutes, okay?" He nods.

"My room or yours?" he asks as I get to my feet and push the chair back in.

"Mine."

I exit the room and run right into someone.

"Sorry!" I exclaim.

For a split second I mistake her for Hope, but then I remember that we dyed Hope's hair
yesterday and that she was transported to Hogwarts early this morning through the floo network.
Apparently, they'd decided that it would be less suspicious if Hope was reintroduced to
Dumbledore and many of her teachers before the other students arrived in case she had a relapse.
One of the healers that she felt comfortable around had gone with her.

"That's all right Lily," Gracie laughs. "Hey, where are you off to in such a
hurry?" she asks as I brush past her.

"Oh!" I rack my brain for a believable lie which isn't easy because I'm
horrible at lying, especially when it comes down to my best friend. "I uh, just remembered. I
forgot to pack my toothbrush."

"Oh okay, I'll see you in a bit then?" she asks, with a funny smile.

"Yeah!" I smile back and hurry off to my room.

I let myself in and shut the door behind me. I already finished my packing, last night actually.
My trunk sits ready to go at the foot of my bed. I'm debating whether I should shrink it down
or not. I almost lost it last year. Luckily Tiffany spotted it and pocketed it, not knowing until
later that night when I was racing around with my head chopped off what it really was that she had
found.

I sit down on the bed, Indian style, with my eyes on the door.

Twenty minutes later the door opens and a disheveled James walks in.

"You're late," I inform him narrowing my eyes.

"I know, my mom recruited me for baking duty," James says sheepishly, running a hand
through his hair. "And then Gracie kept asking me all these funny questions…" He frowns
as if he wants to say more but we've already wasted too much time.

"What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?" I cut straight to the chase.

"You know what I want to talk to you about, Lily," James sighs and leans back against
the door. "You know… out little secret…"

"Hope?" I provide.

"Yea, her." James slams his head back against the door in a moment of frustration.
"Ow," he says, rubbing his head and staring at the door, as if it was the door that hit
him and not the other way around.

"Come here," I sigh, making room for him on the bed beside me. James, still holding
his head sits.

"You're worried?" I ask, handing him a pillow to rest his head on.

"Just a little bit," James admits, accepting the pillow with a grateful smile. He lies
down, leaning his head on the pillow.

"Wasn't it you that told me we had nothing to worry about?" I inquire with an
amused smile.

"That was before I got to thinking," he groans.

"It's called worrying James, probably something you've never experienced until
now," I chuckle.

"Lily?" James asks hesitantly.

"Yes?"

A long pause seems to stretch and fill the room. I wait patiently, watching James intently.

"Do you think the person that murdered my uncle and my cousin is going to try and finish
the job off?" he asks seriously.

It feels like someone's suddenly poured a bucket of ice water down the back of my shirt. I
shiver uncontrollably. Up until now I had blatantly ignored the reason why Hope's identity had
to be kept secret. Now though, the haunting truth suddenly flashes back to me.

"*Um, what exactly is at stake?" James asked timidly.*

*Danny blinked, but his expression quickly turned from incredibility to severity.*

"*Our lives." He said gravely before sweeping out of the room, leaving both of us in
a stunned silence.*

"I don't know James," I whisper pulling my knees to my chest.

I close my eyes, hugging myself as if to fend off an intangible cold. A door opens somewhere in
my mind and suddenly I'm falling headfirst down that dark, freezing tunnel. Shattered memories
flash before my eyes: the black owl, Gracie, falling hard, crumbling in my arms; Tiffany, alone in
the snowy graveyard; and Hope, afraid, yelling and begging us to just take her home. I'm
slipping and sliding, down, down, down, watching the domed ceiling of the mausoleum disappear,
seeing my smoking living room dissolve as Serial Killer's hands close over my throat, clinging
to James as everything collapses around us…

"Lily!"

My eyes snap open and lock with a familiar pair of hazel ones. James is sitting up beside me
with concern in his eyes and the hand that rests heavily on my arm. I try to smile but it's too
late. The damage has already been done. James looked in my eyes and saw what I saw. He knows.

"Oh, Lily," he whispers.

He pulls me toward him, drawing me into the very warmth of his heart which radiates from his
chest. I rest my head on his sweater and take a deep breath. I inhale his cologne, his clothes, his
hair, his eyes, his handsome face, the strength and the warmth, all of him, all in one breath. And
then I lift my head, pull back, and smile.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he apologizes.

I grab his hands and squeeze them tight.

"I know James, but the truth *is* upsetting," I remind him sadly, pulling my
hands free.

"It could only be the beginning," James sighs.

"Or it could be the end…" I say optimistically.

"It might get worse," he says seriously.

"Or it could get better…" I point out.

James looks at me.

"We don't know yet James, what the future holds. All we can do now is wait and be the
best damn babysitters there ever were."

"Bodyguards," James corrects me.

"Babysitters," I insist.

"Bodyguards," James repeats finally smiling. "It makes us sound much more
macho," he elaborates, puffing up his chest.

"Fine." I roll my eyes and laugh. "Here's the deal, I'll use my brains
and since you don't have one-"

James hits me lightly, noticing that I'm kidding, because I never lie and there obviously
has to be something up there if he's breathing right now and stringing together words, unless
he's a robot… which is entirely possible…

"As I was saying, before you decided to abuse me." He laughs at this. "You should
have no trouble disarming or charming her with your suave moves and stud-worthy good
looks."

James makes a face and it's my turn to grin.

"Lily, she's my Aunt," he reminds me grimacing.

"A minor inconvenience." I wave a hand dismissively.

"I would kill you, but you just admitted that you find me irresistibly handsome, suave and
charming." James smirks.

Did I? Oops.

*You're an idiot Lily. As if his head isn't big enough as it is now you openly admit
that you find him attractive-*

Shut up, who doesn't? It doesn't necessarily mean I like him or anything.

*To him it does. Think about it Lily, do you need to give him another reason to stalk
you.*

You have a point.

"Don't worry Potter, I'm immune to the charm, just pretend I'm your
Aunt."

*Nice save.*

Thanks.

*Sarcasm.*

I'm not listening to you anymore.

"But you're prettier than my Aunt!" James blurts out.

Caught off guard, I blush. Then to cover it up, I mock swoon, throwing a hand over my heart and
another over fluttering eye lashes.

"I'm flattered James, really, but-" I come out of my swoon, grinning widely.
"I think right now I'm looking a lot better than your Aunt because first of all your
Aunt's married and second of all she's related to you."

"Of course, but Lily I think you're beaut-"

"Why are we even having this conversation?" I interrupt him not wanting him to finish
that sentence. He has no idea how close I came to letting myself go yesterday and I don't
intend for him to ever know what happened during that minor lapse in my sanity.

"I-I don't know." James looks a bit bewildered. He lifts one of his hands and runs
it through his unruly hair, causing it to stick up, it it's possible, even more. "What
were we talking about again?" he asks with an adorable puzzled expression on his face.

"We were talking about your Aunt, the reincarnated sixteen year old loony," I refresh
his memory.

"Ah yes, Ophelia's biological mother, actually come to think of it, Gracie's always
been a little mad…" He snaps his fingers. "Suddenly everything's illuminated! It all
makes sense, it was in the genes!"

I hit him. James clutches his arm as if he's been shot, instead of hit by a girl who's
half the size of him.

"OW! Ow! Lily, she's my cousin! It's like an unwritten rule, I have to make fun of
her!" he whimpers.

"James you don't follow rules, you break them," I sigh.

James gasps loudly.

"Lillian Evans, did you just encourage me to break a rule?" He gapes at me.

"No!"

"You did! I heard you!"

"NO, I DIDN'T!"

"Wait until I tell Sirius that our little Lillian is a rebel in disguise!" James
laughs wildly.

"That's not what I meant! Oh what's the use!" I groan and bury my head in my
hands. I can only imagine what might happen if he were to spread the word that I, Lily Evans, the
Gryffindor Prefect, just encouraged him to break a rule. Gracie and Sirius would probably split
their sides laughing and never let up on me for months, maybe years…

"You're never going to let me live this one down, are you?" I ask, biting my
lip.

"Nope." James grins.

Well then, I guess my life's officially over. I grab the pillow and stuff my face into it.
James's laughter fades to background and suddenly I feel the bed move beneath me and hear the
springs squeak. His feet hit the floor, moving fast. I sit up, tossing the pillow aside. James is
already at the door when I touch his arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" I demand, folding my arms over my chest.

"Nowhere," James smiles innocently.

I raise an eyebrow.

"All right, I have to finish packing…" he says lamely.

I look at him closely and notice how he fails to meet my eyes. He's guilty of something and
I have a strong suspicion of what it might be. I shut the door and face him.

"Listen to me James, don't you dare tell anyone about this - POTTER!"

But James shoves past me and runs out the door. I yell and holler, fruitlessly twisting at the
doorknob but James is holding it on the other side, trapping me in the bedroom. I bang on the
door.

"Potter - *BANG!* - You - *BANG! BANG!* - BETTER - *BANG!* - let me OUT of
this room - *BANG!* - before I - *BANG! BANG! BANG!* - hurt you- ARGH!"

The doorknob finally gives way in my hand and I can hear James already getting a head start down
the hall.

I take off after him, running hard. I catch up with him easily, and make a pathetic attempt to
tackle him. Unfortunately, I forgot to take into consideration the fact that James Potter actually
has at least six inches, fifty pounds and five years of strenuous quidditich training on me. I come
up from behind and jump up onto his back.

"POTTER I'M GOING TO - oh!"

I gasp.

"Hello Lily." James's mother grins. I promptly let go of James's neck and fall
right on my bum. As if the situation isn't already embarrassing enough, I have to go and fall
and make it about a hundred times worse.

"Are you all right?" James asks, holding out a hand to me.

I sit on the floor where I fell, sincerely wishing that I was in fact hurt or better yet that I
had simply fallen all the way through the wood and disappeared.

"Lily?" she asks. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm okay," I tell them, ignoring James's hand and avoiding both sets of eyes.
I stand up and brush myself off, taking far more time than necessary. But alas, eventually I have
to lift my head and face his mother who caught us in such a…suggestive position.

"Oh honey, there's no need to be embarrassed," his mother reassures me gently.

Huh?

I look at James, but he looks almost as confused as I am.

"Young love is nothing to be ashamed of," she continues, smiling fondly at the two of
us.

It takes me a moment to register what she said and to identify the young couple in question.
That would be me and James.

"Oh," I almost laugh at the absurdity of this observation. Nothing could be more far
from the truth. "No, James and I, we-"

"There's no need to deny it," Heather cuts me off with that same smile, the one
that seems to imply that she knows something that we don't. She winks and whispers, "I
know you two have been sleeping together."

My jaw drops and James blushes.

"Mom, we haven't-" James stammers but Heather's laughter drowns his words
out.

"You didn't think I would notice the two of you sneaking off into the woods that first
night." She smirks. "I saw you two come crawling back in around dawn."

Immediately the truth tumbles from our lips as both of us scramble to set her straight.

"No!"

"You don't understand-"

"We weren't-"

"We were only trying to comfort one another!"

"Oh, is that what you kids call it," she giggles before continuing, "And the
other night in the kitchen, I think we all know why you were both up and in the kitchen when you
weren't supposed to be." She winks again, implying that we're all in on this sick,
twisted, completely false secret.

"We couldn't sleep!" I admit.

"I was hungry!" James whines.

"Well obviously," she giggles again, clearly amused by our flustered faces and our
stammered denials, obviously mistaking them for embarrassment. I think she's been waiting a
long time for this and I bet that she's enjoying every minute of this.

"What about the night we were at the ball? And how about all those times you go sneaking
off to your room, like this morning for instance, and last night in the guestroom, did you honestly
think that your mother wouldn't notice?"

"It's not what you - wait - the guestroom?"

I stop short, the wheels in my head suddenly coming to a screeching halt. My heart jumps into my
throat and I turn to look at James.

"The guestroom?" I ask again, looking at James. I haven't been in the guestroom
for at least a couple of days and James looks equally puzzled.

"Oh yes, I know all about your midnight meetings. I'm a mother for Merlin's sake, I
see and know everything. I wasn't born yesterday, by the age of eighteen we had-"

"MOM!" James yells.

"James, dear, there's nothing to be ashamed of-"

"ENOUGH!" I scream.

Heather blinks in surprise, still smiling a little bit, but the leak has been plugged. The
blessed silence fills the hall and I exhale slowly.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "But I don't really want to know about the
intimate details of your - um - relationship with your husband."

"I know honey, that's why I don't really want to know the details of yours."
The smile slides off her face, replaced with a look of disappointment. "I thought we had an
agreement."

"An agreement?" James asks, blinking.

"Yes, an agreement." She folds her arms over her chest and leans against the wall.
"The very first time you brought her home, we agreed that you wouldn't sleep in the same
room. Or if you were going to sleep together that some rules were to be upheld and we agreed to
those rules, didn't we James?"

My jaw drops as I watch James stammer something and then under the pressure of her stare, bend
his head in a reluctant nod.

"Make sure that you and your girlfriend remember that in the future, James, or you know the
consequences." Heather's eyes are so fierce that I don't have the courage to correct
our relationship status or attempt once again to speak the truth.

Another mumble of assent and a nod from James and Heather's disciplinary tone vanishes,
replaced with that voice of a childish taunt.

"Well, I'll leave you two *alone*, now," she teases, putting far too much
emphasis on the word *alone*. She winks at us as she walks away and I find myself staring
after her with my jaw unhinged.

James had dragged me into a vacated bedroom and shut the door before I finally regained my
ability to speak. I guess he knows me better than I think.

"What is she talking about?" I demand, wondering what kind of drugs that woman was on
and where I could get them because I probably need to be obliterated after that mortifying
experience.

James shuffled forward, beat red and avoiding my eyes at all cost.

"Er, Lily," he coughs, turning me away from the door which I was reaching for.
"Maybe you should go and let me handle this."

"No, James!" I wrench my arm from his grasp and face him. "This needs to stop.
She needs to know the truth."

"The truth?" James repeats, looking at me oddly.

"Yes! I'M NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND and WE ARE NOT SLEEPING TOGETHER!" I explode.

James takes a step back, blinking as if he wasn't quite prepared for that. I take a deep
breath, trying to calm myself. But James just stands there. Minutes go by and still he says
nothing. I wish he would say something, anything to break this silence.

"What?" I ask, realizing that something's wrong with this silence and that I may
have missed something.

"Lily," James says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "There's something
you need to know about… the truth."

"What do you mean?" I ask faltering.

James runs a hand through his unruly hair, looking suddenly nervous and unsure.

"Um, we, er, well, we had to er," he stammers.

"Spit it out James," I interrupt his stuttering.

"We told her that you were my girlfriend," James blurts out. "And that-"

"What?" I asked, wondering if this could get any worse.

"We kind of told her, well, actually we sort of implied, that you and I were sleeping
together."

Now it's my turn to entertain the silence, and James's to fidget and silently beg me to
break the quiet with reassuring words.

"Anything else I need to know about? Did you tell her that we eloped? Or maybe you told her
that I'm pregnant?" I laugh harshly and take pleasure in the fact that James has the
decency to avoid my eyes and even wince upon hearing my reaction. I'm so angry that I could
strangle the boy.

"Gracie told her that we were promised to each other," James suddenly recalls. I feel
my stomach drop. It's one thing for James to tell lies about me but it's another for my own
best friend to say these things.

In the wizarding world, to be promised to someone is a sentence even more frightening and
terrible than marriage. It was the worst possible thing that Gracie could've told them.

"She did?" I choke out, anger and disappointment clouding my words and my vision.

"Yes but Lily you don't understand we had to - Lily wait!"

I slam the door shut, and send a charm over my shoulder, successfully locking him in the room.
(Even if it was only for the satisfaction of thirty seconds before he realized that his wand was in
his pocket.) James can wait. I have to find Gracie.

*

"You told her WHAT?!" I corner Gracie in an empty compartment as soon as we get on the
train. Gracie must've been able to sense that I was upset with her, because she was attached to
Sirius's hip all morning, until we got on the train moments ago and I dragged her away from her
Siamese counterpart.

"Lily, calm down. It was a joke!" Gracie has the audacity to giggle even as I give her
my infamous death glare. "Auntie Heather knows that. Surely, she was just playing around with
you two." The fact that Gracie finds this funny infuriates me.

"Well, I don't find it very funny." I fold my arms over my chest and I can feel
myself morphing into my prefect mode. "And I don't think your aunt did either," I
add.

Gracie rolls her eyes.

"Lily, I think that you're taking this just a little too seriously."

"Gracie, she gave us a lecture!" I explode. "And then she went on about how
disappointed she was in us because we're sneaking around and we won't admit it. All I'm
asking is for you to stop encouraging her-"

"Me?" Gracie's eyes pop. "You think that this is my fault." She throws
back her head and laughs.

"Lily, I didn't do anything other than merely make a joke. You on the other hand made
her believe it was fact," she points out.

She's accusing ME? She's saying that this is MY fault? Suddenly, I can't take it
anymore.

"Grace! You told her that James and I were PROMISED to each other!" I shout, thanking
Merlin that I had soundproofed the compartment when I came in.

She stumbles back a step, leaning against the wall. I wait for her to deny it, but she
doesn't.

"James told you," Gracie says simply, avoiding my eyes.

"What possessed you to tell her that?" I ask angrily, wondering how she could insult
me like this.

"Lily, I had too," Grace whispers, suddenly sounding weary.

"No." I shake my head so angry that I manage to brush away the secrets held in her
blue eyes and on the tip of her loosening tongue. "No, you didn't."

"Lily, you don't understand…" James had said that too, hadn't he? But I
didn't care. No one was going to decide my future, not even my own best friend.

"NO! You're the one that doesn't understand! I don't fancy your cousin, I
don't even *like* him! And even if I did, it would have never worked," I can feel the
tears burning in my eyes as I edge dangerously close to the real truth behind my discomfort and
disappointment. "You don't know enough about James or me to be making those kind of claims
on the future."

"Lily, listen to me!"

"No, you listen to me!" I snarl. "I'm not dating him, I'm not promised to
him and I am NOT marrying-"

"LILY!" she screams, reaching for me wildly. "LOOK OUT!"

BANG!

The compartment door behind me explodes. Glass shatters, wood splinters, and Gracie's wide
fear filled eyes are lost in the cloud of debris. I hardly have time to breathe, let alone get out
of the way. The spell misses me by barely an inch. I see my reflection glowing green in the light
of the deadly curse, shocked, white faced, and with both arms half raised as if to cover my head,
an instant before the spell breaks the windows.

The bitterly cold January air, rushes in through the open windows and I watch in a sort of
stupefied state as the train keeps going as if nothing had happened. But something had happened.
Someone had fired a curse into the compartment where Gracie and I had been standing and I knew just
as surely as I knew that it was the month of January that they had been aiming to kill.

"Gracie!" I exclaim, suddenly remembering her. I start searching for her with my eyes,
a sorely delayed reaction. It seems as if everything's moving too quickly or too slowly since
the spell's arrival and departure. My heart flutters and I find it hard to breathe.

"Grace! GRACE!"

"I'm right here Lily!" I feel her hand on my shoulder and realize that it's
been there the whole time. Gracie had pulled me out of the way, brought me safely to the floor, and
aimed several useless stunners into a gaping hole in the door and an empty corridor.

Whoever it was, they didn't stick around long enough to see that their curse had missed.

"Lily?" Gracie shakes my shoulder lightly.

"Y-yeah?" The single word response is oddly difficult to form and once again I am
aware of the fact that something is wrong with my heartbeat, or is it my breathing?

"Just hold on Lily," Grace whispers, and I realize that she's crying.

I struggle to hold on, because Grace looks more frightened than she did when the curse struck. I
don't remember Grace ever looking that scared before. Grace Adams does not get scared.
She's brave, like James. I think of James, his unruly hair, his soft hazel eyes, his warm
embrace… I try to concentrate on James or Gracie, but I can feel my mind slipping. The glass shards
surrounding me, wink and sparkle in the swinging lamp that miraculously survived it all. I watch
the lamp, swaying in the swirling frigid air that blows into our compartment.

"Help! Someone help me!"

It's snowing I realize. I remember Gracie and me dancing in the snow filled dormitory with
Tiffany complaining and Alice sneezing. I remember James throwing snowballs…

I try to tell Gracie that it's snowing, but I can't find her face anywhere.

"Stay with me Lily!"

Tiny flakes, shaped just like stars. I remember looking at the stars with James.

"You're going to be fine Lily, just stay with us," James says.

I smile, his voice is soft and reassuring.

I can feel him lying next to me in the snow. Safe and secure in his warm embrace, lying in the
midst of a winter wonderland…

"No! *NO*!" Gracie screams, shaking me violently.

I finally find peace.

A/N: Thanks to everyone that reviewed the last chapter that I posted a while ago and I would
love to hear what you think! I'll have the next one up soon hopefully.

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