Of Letters and Messes
Saturday, July 15, 1977
"Lily! Mail!" The redhead jumped at the sound of her mother's high voice. Mum had never really taken to owls.
"Coming!" Lily yelled back, before rolling herself off the bed, blankets tangling around her legs, the book she had just been reading falling to the floor. Then she clattered down the stairs and smiled at the sight of a thick stack of letters. "Morning," she called out distractedly. She bobbed her head at her mother and Petunia once - Dad was already at work. Then she grabbed the stack and ran back upstairs.
The first was a long letter from Fiona - her first one from the other girl, actually, since the Adler family took an annual vacation to south of France and weren't allowed to write to anyone. Merlin knew Lily's family was not the sort to go off and have fun together, but Lily had never met Fiona's parents, so she couldn't judge them for their strange ideas.
But Fiona was well, she missed Lily; she was back, could they meet up in Diagon Alley today at four to catch up? Lily didn't even need to think about it; she scribbled back a hasty "Yes!", making a note to herself to tell Mum that she'd be out late. It had been weeks since Lily had gone out with anyone. Then she coaxed her little owl out of her cage and sent the note off.
The second and third were short notes from Isabella (who spent all of her waking hours with the Wizengamot now) and Emmeline (who was vacationing in France, trying to pick up a decent bloke before she had to come back and work at Madame Malkin's). Isabella was busy with a big trial at the moment; she was wondering if Lily was going to some party - thrown by Sirius Black? Lily folded up the note and slid it into a drawer of her desk - she could answer that later. Lily wrote to Isabella all the time, though the poor girl was swamped with work and so wrote back considerably less. Lily could feel pages and pages with writing - she was good at that. So it was a slight disappointment to her when Isabella and Emmeline sent back two-liners. Still, at least they answered.
Emmeline's note was short and rather cryptic, however. Attached was a photograph of her and some bloke, who was relatively attractive enough. They were in a café, smiling. Actually, he looked vaguely familiar…
Lily -
Australia is nice. The bloke is Fabian Prewett - do you remember him? He's here working with some dragons. And tell Fiona she was wrong.
Emmy
Fabian Prewett…oh yes, hadn't he gone to Hogwarts several years back? Lily faintly recalled a bloke with nice hair and a wide grin. Oh well - even Fiona would acknowledge that he was more extraordinary than the usual lot that Emmy found. Anyway, why couldn't Emmy tell Fiona herself? But Lily had never been sure if her friends exchanged correspondence with one another, besides writing to Lily. She shrugged and tucked this note in her bag, resolving to show the picture to Fiona and pass along the message.
She turned to the rest of the pile. There was a letter from Hogwarts (probably school supply list - Lily tossed it under the bed, so that she wouldn't have to think about school for a little bit longer), a couple of magazine subscriptions, the Daily Prophet…and another letter. It was, surprisingly enough, from Potter. She smirked at the messy scrawl in blue ink, setting it aside to read later, when she perhaps needed cheering up. No doubt it was a cheeky request for a date, with one or two awful pick-up lines thrown in for good measure.
"Lily, do you want some lunch?" She was interrupted in her rereading of Fiona's letter by her mother, who was leaning against the doorjamb, fatigue wrinkling her brow and crinkling her eyes. Had her mum always had crow's feet, or were these new since Lily had been home for Easter break? "I made sandwiches."
Lily shook her head, a twinge of guilt passing through her. "If it's all right, can I go to London? I need to pick up a few things." Fiona would probably spend the whole time trying to pick up an extraordinary boy, but Lily desperately needed to get to Flourish and Blotts. Plus, she really couldn't handle another confrontation with Petunia at the moment - all that sniping about her menial job in Aunt Margot's flower shop and magic and her future, etc. What was it with people and being obsessed with jobs and flats and getting married? Wasn't she too young to be contemplating all this, anyway?
"Sure, of course. Do you need money?" her mum asked, lingering for a moment.
"Nah, thanks, though. Aunt Margot just paid me yesterday." She stood and started searching for clothing, smiling at her mother briefly as Clara Evans left and went back to the kitchen. That dark pair of jeans that made her butt look smaller…had she thrown it in the hamper? No, here it was, under her bed. She shucked her sweatpants and slid the jeans on before starting a search for that blouse that she had somewhere that supposedly went well with her hair…maybe under her library books? Or perhaps that pile of records…
Lily was good at being unorganized.
ooo
"Ack!" Lily jolted at the feel of a hand on her arm, startled out of her thoughts. Being naturally gifted at clumsiness, she bumped up against a display of beautiful hardbound books like A Century of Goblin History and War: A Goblin's Definition. The display pyramid wobbled and Lily yelped as the whole thing collapsed at her feet. Damn. They were interesting books, all of them. Given time, Lily might even have made her way over and perused them as, but now she wouldn't get the chance, seeing as a Flourish and Blotts employee would probably haul her out on her ass immediately. Double damn, seeing as, at the moment, she was engrossed in another book altogether.
"The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not to Know by Professor Mordicus Egg. Sounds fascinating - are you philosophizing now?" a bright voice read over her shoulder. Lily turned and bumped up against James Potter, happily grinning down at her. Had he grown another couple inches in the last month or so?
"You look like a daft fool, Potter. Merlin, the world is so small."
"Yes, it is, isn't it? And I am dreadfully thankful for this fact, because, otherwise, I wouldn't have met you today in this nice little corner of this nice little bookshop."
"How fortunate for me." She had no sooner slid the book back into its slot on the shelf when a harried looking young man in a Flourish and Blotts trademark purple apron came over, gesticulating wildly with his hands, sputtering outrage at them. She blushed; the man's face was starting to match the color of his apron.
"C'mon, Evans." That hand on her arm steered her outside, and she went, sighing at the injustice of it all. When they were both outside, blinking in the blinding sunlight, she turned to him.
"Y'know, I wouldn't have been kicked out if it weren't for you." She was miffed - yes, she'd already bought all the books she needed, but how was she going to occupy the handful of minutes before Fiona showed up? They were meeting at Fortescue's…well, she could go there alone first, she supposed.
"Terribly sorry about that, Evans." He looked mildly apologetic, which counted for something, she supposed. "I just wanted to say hi, is all - "
"Oy!" All thoughts of her anger were forgotten when she was practically barreled over by a terribly excited Sirius Black as he burst from the doors of her favorite bookstore and launched himself at his best mate, his long hair flipping about and making a bit of a commotion in the street, actually. She was appalled by the giggling girls who passed by. "Prongs, did you forget me or what? Oh, hullo, Evans."
"Hi." She flapped a hand halfheartedly at him. "Your Prongs got me kicked out of Flourish and Blotts."
"He is a mischief maker, this one!" Sirius said. "Having a nice summer, Evans?" Potter shoved the other boy away, so that they stood side-by-side, facing her. She was struck by the differences in them, how Potter had been unfailingly chipper every time she saw him, whereas Black alternated between the two extremes of laconic depression and talkative excitement. Even now, Black's happiness was just so much more than Potter's, like Sirius Black was realer than reality somehow.
"Yeah, I've been working. You?" she replied, adjusting her bags so that her grip on them was better.
"Well, Prongs and I have been up to our usual debauchery and tomfoolery, haven't we, Prongs dearest?" Black grabbed Potter's nose and rubbed it affectionately. "You see, you're looking at the two newest additions to the Ministry's set of poor, groveling interns. Except, if we keep messing with the messenger owls, they might fire us, I'm afraid. But how can I resist setting things on fire?" He flung his arms out wildly and struck a dramatic pose. She laughed. Black could be very strange.
Potter spoke up now, his eyes darting curiously from Lily to Sirius, and back again. "Did you get my note, Evans?"
"Erm…I think I saw something of the sort on my desk this morning, yes." It was partially true, in the sense that she had seen it. But if by "get my note" he meant "read it…" then she was a bit of a liar. "Was it important?"
"Uh…" He smiled at her in an almost pleasant but nervous sort of fashion. It was a strange mix of emotions that probably shouldn't coexist, since it made his grin rather awkward and almost menacing and his forehead was rather crinkled.
"If you were looking for a date, I'm afraid I'm rather busy," she said.
He cleared his throat. "No date."
"Oh." She blushed pink, feeling embarrassed for presuming such a thing.
"Prongs has got a bird, now," Sirius said suddenly. He flipped his hair in what was, presumably, a rakish manner. What was it with boys and their hair? Potter was always running a hand through his, Black was flipping it…even Remus had a tendency to twirl a strand around one finger, while Peter was a fan of unconsciously chewing a couple hairs.
"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow, hoping that her dry tone of voice would cover up the fact that she was feeling really, really embarrassed. Why had she presumed such a thing? Well, it was rather logical, since that's what most of his notes during vacations were about, when he bothered to send her notes, that was. Seeing as she only replied with short bursts of witticisms, she was frankly surprised that he wrote her at all. "Who is it?"
"Bridget, but I usually just call her Bird," Sirius said with a wicked smile. "She's a pretty little thing, almost as short as you, Evans."
"How…that's lovely, Potter. Very witty, Black." She paused. Hang on, didn't Fiona have a cousin named Bridget? How many Bridgets could there be, after all - it wasn't exactly a common name, right? "Then your note?"
"Oh. Well. I'm…I'm Head Boy."
Well, there was something weird. But to be truthful, Lily really hadn't given the choice of Head Boy (or Head Girl) much thought. She supposed that if she'd had to pick, Potter was a reasonable choice - the school did seem to like and respect him. "Congratulations are in order, I suppose." Her brow furrowed. "Why write to me about it? Surely you don't need to beg for praise."
Black snorted. "Prongs can be a bit vain, now that I think of it."
Potter just looked at her.
"Dumbledore said…he told me that…well…" Potter took a breath. "Aren't you Head Girl?"
"What?" Lily didn't know whether to laugh or snicker at this absurd notion. "Have you lost your mind?"
"What? But Dumbledore wrote me - didn't you get a letter from Hogwarts? He said that I was, well, Head Boy, and that you were Head Girl, and that I ought to contact you so that we could talk before school started and - "
"A letter?" What letter? Oh. "This morning," she said slowly, thinking. What was the order of it? She tried to picture exactly what had happened. "There was a letter from Hogwarts. But I…" She looked at the two boys, who were staring at her rather strangely. "Well, I threw it under the bed, if you must know," she admitted, blushing again. Now they'd think she was a bad prefect or something. Which she was, but that didn't meant that everyone had to know.
"You…threw - it - under the bed?" James repeated weakly. "You?" At least she'd shaken that strange sort of chipperness from him. Chipperness. For people like Potter, this neologism was coined. Beside him, Sirius was giving her a thumbs up and a strange, reassessing sort of smile, his head tilted slightly to the right.
"It's just a letter about school starting again, isn't it?" She swallowed, hard. "There's no way I'm Head Girl."
"Why not?" Potter looked perplexed.
"Because…because…" Great. Now she was sputtering like that Flourish and Blotts boy in the purple apron and her face was probably purple like his and - "My marks aren't that high, I'm a terrible leader and I can't even think about a career in the future, and I don't even rat on people like that Ursula Gilmore in Ravenclaw - she out to be Head Girl! I'm lousy at Prefecting, too. I mean, there's a list of reasons why I oughtn't be Head Girl, whereas I can kind of understand why Dumbledore would make you Head Boy, even if you're not a prefect."
Sirius snickered again. "Why would Dumbledore pick Prongs as his boy toy, then? Personally, I think Bancroft was just a little too bland for the likes of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster extraordinaire."
She cocked her head. "That's a good theory. Ursula Gilmore fits into that - she'd follow his orders all over the place, whereas I would just forget them immediately after hearing them. I like that theory. How about it? I can see the Prophet headlines: James Potter: Manslave."
Potter's eyes darkened behind his glasses, his eyebrows coming together so that he was now the Bloke with the Unibrow. Apparently he didn't like this humor of hers. Then again, when was the last time she had joked around with these two? She couldn't remember. "All the same, Lily, I am quite positive that you're Head Girl."
She shrugged. "When I get home tonight, I'll check. Under my bed, that is. Except that I won't be back until late, so you'll just have to wait around, I'm afraid. Unless Dumbledore owls you lot back saying that he retracts his statement, has come to his senses, and has already owled Ursula for the position. Hell, maybe he'll even demote me so that I'm no longer a prefect."
Both boys stared at her, a bit stunned. Was it the sunlight that made them so strange? It was a bit bright, after all. She shrugged - all this talking and nonsense had quickly whiled away the time - if she didn't go now, she might actually be late for Fiona, and that would never do. "It was nice to see you, Black. Potter." She nodded at them and turned, walking away, shaking her head at the strangeness of boys. She didn't think she would ever understand the likes of them.
ooo
"Exactly in time!" Fiona Adler shook her head wonderingly as Lily ran onto the tiny patio of Florean Fortescue's. "I don't know how you do it."
"What, no hello?" Lily reached over and hugged her, then pulled up a delicately iron worked chair and plopped herself into it. "France treated you nicely, I see." Fiona, always the beautiful one of the group, looked absolutely incredible. She glowed, all dark brown skin and sun-dappled curls, large blue eyes and a sun-burnt button nose.
"It was lovely, but even French boys are nothing special." Fiona sighed dramatically. "We shall simply have to try to find some tonight, my dear." She waved over a waiter and they placed their orders, Fiona's for two scoops of vanilla with caramel syrup and Lily's for a Sorbet Sundae, an "explosion of fruity flavors on the tongue," as Florean "Anyway," Fiona added, "I wrote all about France to you, but you haven't said anything to me yet! What've you done today? Yesterday? Last week?"
"Potter got me kicked out of Flourish earlier," Lily informed her. "And then I had a strange conversation with him and Black. Apparently Potter is our new Head Boy. Or as Black says, Dumbledore's Manslave." She left out Potter's strange speculations - it wouldn't do to spread rumors about herself that were most likely untrue.
Fiona let out a low whistle. "Manslave, eh? No wonder I never really took to Julian - I want a boy that can think for himself, you know?" She laughed. "I never thought of Potter as the complacent type, I'm afraid. Maybe Dumbledore sees something in him that we don't?"
"Perhaps." Lily smiled at the waiter in thanks as he set the ice cream down on the table. "Or he gets a kick out of breaking headstrong young boys?" She picked up her spoon.
The other girl giggled. "You make them sound like feisty horses or something."
"Well, they do call him Prongs." She dug into the sorbet, starting with the mango.
"Mmm…" Fiona sighed in delight, completely forgetting the subject at hand. "They don't make ice cream like this in France. Do you want a bite?"
"I'm okay, want some of mine?" The blonde girl immediately reached over for a spoonful. "This is the first time I'm in Diagon Alley this summer."
"Lil-leeeeeeeeee!" Fiona could stretch any word out into its individual syllables. "What've you been doing this whole time?"
"Working." Lily made a face. "Aunt Margot pays well, but it takes up a lot of time."
"Lily! How much work can there possibly be at the florist?" Fiona scoffed. "You're…cutting flowers, arranging them into pretty things - "
"Cataloguing flowers, fixing Aunt Margot's accounts," Lily said, smoothly cutting in and making a bit of a face. "I love her to pieces, but she simply doesn't have a head for numbers."
"Which you're good at." Fiona let out a dramatic sigh as she idly twirled her spoon in the rapidly melting slush that was the remnants of her ice cream.
"Well, better than Aunt Margot anyway. And she pays well too." Lily lifted one eyebrow, suddenly remembering something. "By the by, Emmeline wrote to me this morning. Wanted me to tell you that you were wrong about something."
"Hmm." Fiona scrunched up her tiny nose. "Hold it. Was there a boy involved?"
"Yeah, she sent a picture of some boy too. Erm… Prewett? Fabian, I think. What grievous error of yours is she talking about?" Lily asked, grinning slyly.
"Oh, it's nothing." Fiona waved a hand dismissively. "I told her there were no amazing boys in Australia. I've been there - even if they do have the most adorable accents, they're all sun-blind idiots." A typical Fiona statement - Emmy had probably taken it as a bit of a challenge.
With a one-shouldered shrug, Lily changed the subject. "And Black mentioned that Potter's got himself a bird."
"Really?" Fiona pretended to fall out of her chair in shock. "But how ever will he proposition you if he's busy with some girl? And who is it?"
"Her name is Bridget - don't you have a cousin with such a name?" If anything, Fiona's large eyes got even wider, and this time, she actually fell off the chair. Lily peered over the edge of the table. "Are you all right?"
"Mpf." She rubbed her head as she stood and slipped back into her seat. Then, she stared at Lily. "My cousin has been writing me every other day about some bloke named James that she met that is apparently truly extraordinary. You don't think - "
"It's Potter? How many witches and wizards named Bridget and James do you know?" Lily remarked drily. "Face it - by the end of next year, you and Potter could be related."
Fiona spat out the water she had been drinking. "I never want to hear you say such terrible things again," she muttered. "You, my dear girl, have an overactive imagination."
The redhead smiled apologetically. "It's part of why you love me, darling."
"You think I love you, anyway."
"Psh. Don't kid with me." Fiona waved over the waiter and paid with a Galleon, ignoring her friend's protestations. "You can buy me a drink when we hit that bar. You ready to roll?" Lily looked at what she was wearing - she had forgotten to dress accordingly, and now she was in jeans and a blouse while Fiona sported a green halter and shorts. Bugger. Lily would probably only have to buy Fee the one drink, seeing as how that other girl was sure to be picked up by lots of blokes, extraordinary or not. Too late now. "Let's get out of here." They stood and, arm in arm, made their way out of the little ice cream parlor, towards the closest bar they could find.
When Lily stumbled back into her house in the early morning, tipsy and dazed off of red currant rum and a bottle of Ogden's, the only thing she remembered was that she had kissed a boy, an extraordinary boy. A certain Thomas Bennington, in fact.
ooo
My dear Ms. Lily Evans,
Thank you for your politely worded response to my letter. However, I assure you - there is no mistake. The entirety of the faculty stands behind my decision to appoint you as our new Head Girl. See you in the fall.
Warmest regards,
Albus Dumbledore
Hogwarts Headmaster
Ooo
A/N: Sorry about the formatting in chapter 2 - the document manager does strange things with line breaks. But thanks for reading it anyway! I hope you enjoyed chapter 3, and reviews give me warm and fuzzy feelings.
-->