Lily's Seventh Year; Chapter Seven

-=Lily's Seventh Year; Chapter Seven=-

The next Quidditch match was coming up quickly; the one that was to decide the winner of the Quidditch Cup for the thousandth year of Hogwarts’ existence. Needless to say, rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was getting to the point of a student war; most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had arranged themselves alongside the Gryffindors, and several students were in the hospital wing with ailments like grass sprouting out of their noses or the substitution of quills for bones. The teachers didn’t approve of or tolerate this, but it was rather hard to prevent every single scuffle taking place in the corridors, so they simply had resorted to taking ten points off of every person that landed in the hospital wing, besides two detentions.
   The teams hadn’t time to get into any of the small fights; they were on the fields almost every hour of their free time, until Madam Hooch made them go inside and get to bed. Robert Wickman, the new Gryffindor Chaser, seemed to have developed a sort of complex about the Quaffle ever since he had been hit in the jaw with it, while Falner, the Keeper, was still trying to cure the bruise on her stomach. James was trying to hammer it into her head that one did not catch Bludgers, one flew away from them. She had faintly grasped this, and James was trying to teach her to catch the Quaffle with her hands, not her stomach, which would prevent many injuries.
   The morning before the match, the Gryffindor team, for once, awoke cheerful and rested; James had insisted that they go to bed at eight-thirty in the evening. They joined the school in the Great Hall ravenous and eager fore breakfast; they alone made away with a platter of toast and sausages, two pitchers of orange juice, a large pile of pancakes, and two dozen scrambled eggs. They rose from the table at nine o’clock, refreshed and ready for the match; even promising autographs to people when they won the game. James looked peeved to see the Slytherin team was doing exactly the same thing, but he couldn’t say anything, naturally.
   The students piled onto the field, excited and ready for a good game of Quidditch; still chattering, they found their seats. Lily was squeezed in between Sirius and Lora this time, and she foresaw doom for her feet, as both of her neighbors were ardent Quidditch fans and would certainly be jumping up and down at every goal the Gryffindor team shot.
   James and the Slytherin captain, Rowlands—the only girl on the team—shook hands, and to Madam Hooch’s whistle, they took off.
   Ludren was commentating again. “There they go! And the Quaffle is released oh-so-nicely, and it’s in the hands of James Potter, who I’m sure we’re all rooting for!” (Boos from the Slytherin end of the stands) “Quaffle to Wickman—Oxley—back to Potter—who aimes—and HE SCORES! TEN--ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”
   The cheers from the stadium could have turned a cat deaf, and dozens of birds were roused from their nests in the top of the Forbidden Forest’s tree canopy, almost drowning out the Slytherin groans.
   “Well, that last one was too easy—can’t expect Slytherins to take that sitting down, can we? Oh-and they’re not!—Oxley’s broom handle just got almost snapped in half—nasty, cheating Bludger! That was on purpose and you know it!”
   “Ludren.”
   ”Right, right, sorry, Professor. Fulford of Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle; he’s looping around Racor and Andrews of Gryffindor there—this is a Quidditch game, not a slalom competition!—still, Quaffle to Atherton—Rowlands—Atherton—and—MISS IT, MISS IT!! Come on, Falner—oh, damn. Slytherins score, score is ten to ten…”
   The Slytherins were quickly pulling ahead. Lucius, as team captain, obviously hadn’t told them not to go against the Quidditch rules as long as they weren’t caught. Still, it was rather hard for anyone to miss the Slytherin Beater’s attack on James with his club, and when James did a funny little flip in the air afterwards, Madam Hooch decided that Greenwood had made him lose control of his broom, and two fouls were accorded to Gryffindor. One of them scored, and the Slytherin Keeper, Dramin, was being first slapped on the back with congratulations by his team and the next instant transformed into the recipient of several dozen malicious glares.
   “GRYFFINDORS SCORE! TWENTY--TEN TO GRYFFINDOR! TAKE THAT, YOU POND SCUM!” Ludren yelled happily into the magical microphone, which Professor McGonagall was eyeing warily, as if it were some sort of dangerous serpent.
   “Okay, reformation essential; players drift to their respective sides of the field. Potter in possession of the Quaffle…Potter diving down…down…oh, shooting straight up! Straight up—the Slytherins dishuddle—if that’s a word, which I doubt—they shoot away from him—only Dramin left there—Potter aims—HE SC—oh, bloody tentacles! Quaffle stopped by Dramin…”
   The Slytherin end was cheering madly, much to the dismay of the rest of the school.
   “Okay, we’ve just got to make that up, then! Quaffle in possession of Rowlands, …”
   Several goals later, the score was forty-twenty for Slytherin, and Elya, the Gryffindor Seeker, was looking more than a bit frazzled as her eyes roved everywhere for the Snitch. James had come close to getting knocked off of his broom—he had thrown himself in front of Rebecca, who was aiming for the goals, when a Bludger was whizzing towards her—and a Slytherin Chaser, Fulford, had a bloody nose he hadn’t allowed anyone to mop up yet.
   “Good grief, Fulford looks bad—not that I’m complaining, but still! Okay, Rowlands of Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle—she streaks towards Oxley—almost rams her in the stomach with the broom—now that should have been a foul!—but Oxley moves just in time; Quaffle flies to Atherton—Rowlands—Fulford—Atherton—Atherton scores—fifty-twenty for Slytherin,” Ludren commented in the deadest voice he could summon up at a moment’s notice. The Slytherin cheers filled the stadium.
   “Winters of Gryffindor sends a niice Bludger towards Rowlands—almost sends her flying there—don’t worry, Winters, next time’ll do it! Quaffle in hands of James Potter—Potter flying towards goals—come on, come ON!—YES—POTTER SCORES—SCORE IS THIRTY-FIFTY TO GRYFFINDOR!”
   Finally, the Gryffindor cheers raised the tops of the teacher’s tent, and, grinning like a maniac, James did a funny little lap of honor halfway around the field, waving at the Gryffindor team’s supporters, who started cheering loudly when he passed them. All except Lily; that is—she thought he was being too much of a showoff, and besides, Lora and Sirius had taken those moments when they were cheering to damage her feet almost beyond repair.
   “Oxley holding Quaffle—Oxley heading up the field—she leans back—and OUCH!!—square in the side with that bat! Greenwood, watch where you’re swinging that thing! She’s not a stinking Bludger, for screaming out silently—oh, good! Gryffindor foul—Potter takes it—he aimes…HE SORES!! FORTY-FIFTY TO GRYFFINDOR! TAKE THAT, YOU FLYING DISEMBOWELED DRAGONFLY!!”
   “LUDREN!”
   “Oh, sorry, Professor,” he apologized, “but if they are, then—“
   “Do we have to get a new commentator? This is going too far!”
   “No, but see, Professor, I’m just telling it like it is! It wouldn’t be interesting if I didn’t give the opinions of everyone in the stands!”
   “Do you mean to say that every single student has ranked him- or herself on the sides of the Gryffindor team?”
   “Exactly!” Ludren smiled.
   “I am not going to stand for this? Do you want a detention?”
   ”Not particularly.”
   “Then stop sending out biased comments over a magical microphone that is at this point in time turned on! Get on with the match!”
   “All right, all right!” he grumbled. “What’s the score?”
   In the meantime, the Slytherins had scored once, making it sixty to forty for Slytherin. The Gryffindors were still groaning their protests.
   “Okay, it’s forty for our favorite team and sixty for the hated enemies—I was joking, Professor! Rowlands in charge of the Quaffle—she ducks around Potter’s suicidal broom and self that has thrown himself in her way—she—ooh, the Snitch! Look, look! Dive! Dive! Dive!!! Down there, Racor! Get it—get it—knock him offa his broom—GRAB THE TAIL—ANYTHING—come ON!”
   Elya and the Slytherin Seeker, Roger Knappett, were both streaking for a small golden speck in the middle of the left Slytherin goalpost’s hoop—the other players were rushing out of their way right and left, and Rowlands had forgotten to throw the Quaffle; she sat on her broom poised in midair, with her arm lifted above her head, intently watching the two Seekers.
   Lily, along with the rest of the stadium, was holding her breath—she could see them clearly, thanks to the sharp, almost telescopic vision from the elf-nymph grottos. Elya was inches behind Knappett, and they were feet away from the Snitch—Lily clapped her hands over her mouth as Knappett reached for it…
   “KNAPPETT CATCHES THE SNITCH—DAMN HIM—oh, wait a minute, what was that”
   …and then Lily saw an odd little lump travel down his sleeve and out of his robes…
   He turned a funny little somersault in the air and tumbled onto the ground, five feet away, while Elya had caught the Snitch that had zoomed down his sleeve and out of the green robes. She rose into the air, nearly beaming her mouth off, while her team instantly raced towards her, hugging her and the fist that held the Golden Snitch madly.
   They sank to the ground, cheering and yelling themselves hoarse, and over the tumultuous roar that covered the field as the school poured onto it, Ludren’s voice could be heard, happily screaming, “KNAPPETT CAN’T CATCH AND GRYFFINDOR WINS ONE HUNDRED NINETY TO SIXTY!!”
   Lily spied Severus and Lucius leaving the stands rather peevishly, and, in high spirits, she darted over to them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. They spun around immediately.
   “Lily!” they exclaimed in unison.
   She smiled. “Hello. Very nice match, by the way. Congratulations, Lucius.”
   “What, congratulations?” His face clouded over. “We lost!”
   “Only by a hair,” Lily said, still beaming. “Come on—I’m inviting you both to a celebration feast the Gryffindor team’s hosting.”
   Lucius scowled. “I’m not going—it’s just to see them gloat over us. Besides, I’m their enemy.”
   “Oh, no, you’re not,” Lily said calmly. “The Ravenclaw team was their opponent at the last Quidditch match, and they’re being welcomed with open arms. I want you two to come.”
   ”I’m not,” Lucius shrugged.
   “I am, though,” Severus decided instantly. “I’d rather.”
   Lucius stared at him in astonishment, and Lily smiled at him.
   “Thanks, Severus—Lucius, sure you won’t change your mind?”
   ”I’m positive,” Lucius said cuttingly. “I’ll live without it.” He left the grounds for the castle, and Lily looked back at Severus, who shrugged.
   “I don’t care. You sure?”
   ”Sure I’m sure,” she laughed, “if you’re my friend, you’re coming. No questions asked.”
   ”Fine,” he agreed. “Now, where is this feast you speak so highly of?”
   The Gryffindors had their feast on the lawns that night; it was a warm April evening, and Sirius, Remus, and Peter had unraveled their plans to a few of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, who had been assigned the responsibility of sneaking the House tables from the Great Hall and carrying them out to the acres of grass near the lake. They surrounded a good bit of land, when placed in a U-form with spaces at the corners, and they were now official buffet tables.
   The linen tablecloths had also been hooked, and Sirius and Remus had charmed the four long tables in the kitchens below the Great Hall that sent food up to the Hall tables to send their load up to the new arrangement, although the tables were on the lawns. True, their feast could have been stopped by the teachers, but Remus had procured a written note from Professor Dumbledore, saying that they were allowed to have their feast outside, which Sirius took to mean that they were permitted to bring food outside, as a feast was constituted mainly of food, and there were ants and fairy dust in the grass, so it would be unsanitary not to use tables, and as there were no other available tables that they knew of, these were the only choice. Even Professor McGonagall assented to that line of logic after she had been presented with it; though she warned them to have everything cleaned up by ten o’clock.
   The trophy was set in the middle of the center buffet table; it presided over everyone that night—tall and golden, with the Snitch poised atop it, wings fluttering gracefully, and with the winning team’s House and names engraved into the base of it. The Quidditch team was grouped around it, and cameras were snapping everywhere. From somewhere, Sirius had persuaded a couple of groups of fairies to sit on the tables and inside bushes and trees as decorations, and they were fluttering and twinkling beautifully.
   Lily led Severus over to one of the tables and handed him one of the golden plates. “Help yourself.”
   He smiled at her, but the next instant he stiffened, looking at someone over her shoulder. Lily spun around.
   “Oh—hello—“
   “What is he doing here?” the arrival asked, looking Severus up and down as if he were an extremely squashed and large cockroach.
   “He’s my guest,” Lily glared; “do you have anything against that?”
   “Yeah,” James scowled—he had come over to get some dessert—“he’s a Slytherin.”
   ”So?” Lily asked, her face almost frozen in a glare.
   “So he’s our opponent, our enemy!”
   “James,” Lily said quietly, “correct me if I am wrong, but is that Ravenclaw Chaser holding hands with Rebecca or not?”
   James swiveled. “Yeah. So what?”
   ”I am getting tired of the word ‘so’. In other words, he was your opponent, too, and Severus wasn’t even on the team. You’re being ridiculous,” she almost spat out, each syllable drawn-out and tinged with contempt.
   He frowned. “Don’t let me hold you up, then. Have fun with your boyfriend—husband—fiancé—whatever he is,” James said, waving one hand around as if it had lost its bones all of a sudden. “Far be it from me to hold you two up.”
   ”James,” Lily said quietly, “someone wants you back in your crowd of admirers.”
   “Really?” James swiveled. “Who?”
   “Me,” Lily glared.
   “Okay, okay!” he mumbled, “some friend you are.” He left the table and rejoined his friends, who immediately cleared a path for him to the Quidditch Cup.
   Severus put a hand on Lily’s shoulder. “You know, you didn’t have to stand up for me. I could have done that…”
   “Severus,” Lily interrupted, “I don’t want either you or James to get into a fight while we’re having a feast. No one out here has a tendency towards having body parts in their pudding.”
   Severus grinned at her. “I guess you’re right.”
   Lily smiled. “I hope I am. Chocolate cake or chocolat gateau?” she asked, holding a plate in each hand, weighing them in an imitation of a scale.
   The rest of the afternoon was hot and sunny; and the night was beautiful; moonlight settled over the clouds at eight, and it twinkled merrily on the lake, which was constantly moving; three mermaids and one merman had popped out of the water, and they were being treated with butterbeer and several different foods from the tables.
   Lily noticed that they were quite like Litharelen, only not so much like the picture of the mermaid that hung in the prefect’s bathroom; their silver fishtails caught the candlelight from the tables, and the dark green eyes sparkled warily. Without meaning to, Lily sighed softly.
   “I wonder how Tom’s bearing up…” she murmered.
   “Tom?” Severus asked.
   Lily started. “Oh, just a former friend.”
   “Former friend—he’s not anymore?”
   “I suppose he is,” Lily edged.
   Severus frowned. “What’s his last name?”
   “Why?” Lily stiffened. This wasn’t good.
   “I want to know…I think I know who he is, that’s all.”
   Lily flitted to her feet and started walking away. Severus jumped up and followed her, taking her arm.
   “What’s this; why’re you so nervous?”
   “Nothing,” Lily said firmly.
   “Lily—I won’t ask you to tell me anything—but is his name Tom Riddle?”
   Lily couldn’t hide her astonishment. Eyes wide and short of breath, she swiveled towards Severus, who was gazing thoughtfully at her through clear, black eyes. “What”
   He turned her back around, and they started on a walk around the lake. “It wasn’t too hard to figure out.”
   “How?—“ she breathed.
   Severus shrugged. “Lucius’ father’s part of his band of Death Eaters—and I know his fiancée was murdered after Halloween. It wasn’t hard to put together—you were staring at the mermaids, and I know she was an elf-nymph. They’re not that different, actually.”
   Lily smiled weakly. “You’re very perceptive.”
   ”Thanks; I try,” he grinned. Then his face grew more serious.
   “Lily, I heard something about him having a brilliant little sidekick, one that’s wonderful with the pentacorn he owns and that saved his fiancée’s life…” His eyes were questioning now as they fastened upon her.
   Lily shook her long, auburn hair back from her shoulders; she didn’t care anymore; he knew too much, and he was safe—besides, he could find out anyway.
   “You’re right. I did help him. I was involved with his band of Death Eaters, and I did help heal Litharelen when she was injured. I can ride Svordsja. What else?”
   “Nothing,” Severus ventured—“nothing—I didn’t mean for you to blurt this out to me…”
   They were next to the edge of the Forbidden Forest by now, and the noise from the feast had dwindled to a far-off tinkle of plates and shouts. They were very well hidden from sight; which was quite advantageous for their conversation.
   “I didn’t blurt it out. You knew already, Severus—it’s not as if I kept anything important from you. You’re very smart; you know that?”
   Even in the darkness, she could see his cheekbones turning red. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “Nothing compared to you, though.”
   “While I’m at it,” Lily continued, “I’d better tell you how I got there. Still, if Tom finds out, I’m as good as dead,” she said in the tone of someone talking about tomorrow’s forecasted rainstorm.
   “Remember when I got locked into the dungeon in first year?” she asked.
   Severus frowned. “Of course.”
   “You got me out of there—and you gave me this in the hospital wing.” Lily had pulled out her necklace from underneath her robes; she took it off and let it glide into Severus’ hands. He touched it gently, then pressed it into her hand and closed her fingers around it.
   “Yes; what about it?”
   ”It transports me to the Alendoren Cove—which was where Tom had his hideout and where Litharelen lived. He told me that it would give him ultimate power over all mortals, which is why I’m rather desperate to keep it from him.” Lily wasn’t looking at him; she was staring straight ahead at nothing; only she knew how much his answer would mean to her.
   “Well, then.” Severus draped an arm over her shoulder, which was tense and unyielding. “That makes me desperate to keep him from it, too, doesn’t it?”
   He had never seen such relief as showed itself in her face after he said that. She turned to face him, her eyes alight with some inner joy, a smile sparkling at the corners of her mouth.
   “Thank you.”
   He hugged her slightly. “No problem whatsoever.”
   She turned to the lake and the looming castle again, but she felt more reassured and comforted than she had in ages; what had just happened between them was more than their words could ever have signified, more than words could ever describe.
   They drifted back to the edge of the lake, where Lily quickly noted that they hadn’t, to any obvious extent, been missed at all. Not that she normally would have been, but she suspected that the Marauders would be disappointed at not finding a good prank subject—the one she knew their minds would instantly flit to was Severus. Still, as she cast a glance over the students, she noticed nothing wrong, which was a relief. They reassumed their walk around the lake.
   After about ten minutes of walking in the dusk, Severus was the first to break the silence.
   “Lily, I want you to know I really do appreciate your trusting me with this.”
   She smiled and waved a hand, as if to say it was nothing, though they both knew better. “Nonsense. You would have found out anyway. Besides—I trust you.”
   She could sense his cheeks turning faintly red again. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
   Lily didn’t ask him not to tell anyone; she knew he wouldn’t. And he, on his part, was grateful to her for thinking so highly of him so that she felt she didn’t need to ask.
   They didn’t say much as they walked back around the lake and rejoined the students that were stuffing themselves without a care in the world. Sirius and James saw them as they returned, but didn’t say anything; they just cast a glance at each other, raised their eyebrows, nodded, and turned back to their fans.
   That evening, at around eleven o’clock, Lily had changed and was already in a nightgown when she hit her head lightly with the flat of her palm. She’d left her schoolbag down in the common room last night. Quickly, she threw on her dressing gown and flitted downstairs, scooped up the bag, and started for the marble dormitory stairs, when a voice stopped her.
   “Hey—where’re you going so fast?”
   Lily spun around. “Oh. Sirius. I only came down to get my books—“ she held out her bag.
   “I see.” Sirius nodded. “Still, I guess I—in the name of all the Marauders—want to ask you something.”
   She set her jaw; she had an idea of what was coming. “What?”
   “Where did you go with Snape this evening?”
   Lily had expected this; she let her bag fall to the floor and crossed her arms. “No.”
   "No what?” Sirius was confused.
   “No. That’s all, just no.”
   ”You mean you’re not telling?”
   ”Boy, are you smart,” she scoffed. “Of course I’m not; you’ve got no business knowing absolutely everything about me. I don’t know why, every time I spend any time with him at all, you four always have to know what goes on while I’m with him.”
   Sirius sighed and stood up; he knew he’d started wrong. “Lily, I didn’t mean it that way. We’re worried about you; that’s all—he’s a Slytherin, and—well, you’re pretty…We just don’t want him to get away with anything he might do, that’s all,” he finished rather lamely.
   “Thanks for the concern,” Lily remarked dryly. Then her tone changed; she sounded like a mother tigress defending her children.
   “It wouldn’t enter his head to do anything to me that even comes near what’s revolving in your one-track minds. He’s kind, sweet, nice, supportive—everything you four haven’t been over the years. He’s stood by me through everything I’ve been through, and he’s the best friend I could ever hope for. Satisfied? Or not—have I damaged your wonderfully nasty opinions of a Slytherin wretch?”
   Sirius backed down under her glare.
   “No--Lily, it’s not that.”
   “What is it, then?” She was still angry.
   "Lily, his friends are joining that Death Eater, that Voldemort rat, the one that’s killed two families down in Kent so far. You’re Muggle-born, and Voldemort hates Muggles beyond anything else. If Snape joins him—which I know he will—you’ll be in danger. Very great danger.”
   Lily tossed her head; she knew better. “I am not in danger. Lord Voldemort is not going to kill me.”
   ”And how are you so certain?” Sirius moved towards her and put a hand on each of her shoulders. “He hates Muggle-borns; you know he does! All that stuff that’s been in the paper tells of him killing Muggles and plotting against Muggle-born wizards. We don’t want you to die, don’t you understand?”
   She smiled almost vaguely; she was remembering Litharelen.
   “Sirius, he won’t touch me. I give you my word for that. Not with a curse nor anything else. Go back to bed; you’re talking blarney.”
   Sirius didn’t let the subject drop, but he couldn’t get anything else out of Lily, and, after leaving the common room and reaching his dormitory, he moodily reported to his friends.
   “She stood up for Snape.”
   James sighed. “We’d practically expected that. What’d she say about him?”
   “He’s nice and noble and sweet and lots of other stuff--I’d be sick if I related them to you. That should give you the gist, anyhow.”
   Remus fell back against his pillow. “What’d she say about Voldemort?”
   Sirius shrugged. “Nothing. Not really. She just told me that he wasn’t going to hurt her, and that I should back off. That you three should, too.” He flung himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. “I’m worried about her.
   “As are we all,” James snapped. “But I do think you should take her word for everything concerning T—er--Voldemort. I think she knows more about him than we think…”
   Sirius had pushed himself to a sitting position. “Oh, really? What makes you think that?”
   ”Nothing,” James blushed, “nothing.”
   ”Liar.” By now the three of them had surrounded James’ four-poster. “Tell. We’re the Marauders; we tell anything.”
   Remus’ eyes were narrowed. “Does this have anything to do with what we didn’t see on the map?”
   “Huh?”
   ”James, you idiot, you know perfectly well. As soon as we made that map, we saw that sometimes Lily wouldn’t be on it at all, no matter where in the castle we looked. You said you’d find out, and you never told us if you found out anything. I think this is the time to tell us.”
   James’ eyes opened wide. He couldn’t tell them; he couldn’t—this was Lily’s secret; it wasn’t his, no matter how much he wished it was.
   “I can’t tell you,” he said curtly.
   “Oh, yes, you can,” Sirius stated coolly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “We’ve got all night.”
   ”Sirius.” James turned around and glared at his friend, something he hardly ever did in earnest. “I can’t tell you. Ask her—she might tell you, but I’m not entitled to.”
   “Oh, right,” Peter scoffed. “You just don’t want to admit you took her to Hogsmeade or somewhere when you were supposed to be spying. How many times’ve you kissed her, huh?”
   James swiveled. “Peter, you’ve said enough. Shut. Up. Now.” Peter cringed almost invisibly, and, satisfied, James turned to Remus and Sirius.
   “Okay, okay, so I can’t tell you what she was doing, but it wasn’t what Peter just said.” He fell back against his pillow, telling himself that this was going to be an extremely stupid revelation.
   “I’d much rather have been doing what he described, though.”
   “WHAT?” The three others in the room exploded with the same word, and Frank Longbottom, who had the fifth bed in the dormitory, good-naturedly yelled at them to shut up, then turned around and resumed sleeping.
   Peter almost fell down. “You would have rather been doing what?”
   Sirius almost couldn’t speak. “What—what—You’re a Marauder, for Pete’s sake—you can’t—you can’t—“
   “You’re not in love, you prat, are you?” This surprised James, because Remus was usually calm.
   “No, I’m not!—I just…I just like her, that’s all,” he covered with an utterly nonconvincing shrug as he sat up again.
   Sirius frowned. “And for how long? Do you realize we tell each other everything—EVERYTHING?”
   James sighed. “I don’t know. I guess—fourth year, fifth year. Something like that. It seems like forever.”
   “I thought as much,” Sirius mused. “Way back when you handed in your Anatomy homework—well, whatever subject it was—and said it was hers…”
   ”So it’s not a random little infatuation with the punch in the jaw she’d give you if she found out?”
   “Peter!” Remus glared. “Don’t say that—hey, we don’t know she’ll do that, do we?”
   ”Yeah, it’s a toss-up between the left hook and the knee in the groin,” James said dryly. “I haven’t got a chance.”
   Sirius nodded slowly. “Why haven’t you got a chance?”
   Peter had been itching to say something for the last few minutes, and now he had his chance. “So do you want me to tell Lily tomorrow?”
   “NO!” This could have come from ten voiceboxes, judging from the amount of volume James produced. “Peter, don’t you dare!”
   “Why not? She’s nice to you, isn’t she?”
   James sighed. “I know, I know. But it seems that no matter how nice she is to me, she still hates me desperately underneath. I don’t know what to do.”
   Frank’s voice floated from across the room. “Okay, either invite me to join in to the conversation or keep it down!”
   “Okay, come on, join us,” Sirius griped as Frank, grinning, swung his feet out of bed.
   “So what’s this I hear about James?”
   ”He’s in love with Lily Evans,” Peter said smugly.
   James snapped around. “PETER!”
   “I’m sorry!” he whined. “But you are, aren’t you?”
   Sirius smacked him on the back of the head. “Peter, you prat, he’s not old enough to know what love is. Grow up.” He turned to Frank. “Only problem dear James has is that she’s one of those lovely delinquents that hate the thought of romance. Besides, she hates his twisted guts.”
   ”Ah,” Frank nodded. “I see.”
   “As do we all,” Sirius sighed. “Oh, the twisted complications and triangles of love!”
   “Triangles!” James almost spat out. “What?”
   “Snape, James,” all four of the boys told him.
   “Oh.” James cheered up. “Well, that’s good, then!”
   “How—good?” Remus was curious.
   “Well—she’d never be interested in someone like him! And—and besides, he’s a Slytherin. Lily knows better than that.” Even in his own mind the words sounded stupid.
   Sirius snorted. “James, you’re a bloody idiot. Remember what I just said? She said she didn’t care if he was a Slytherin or not; she said that he was extremely nice and sweet and I don’t know what all.”
   “Yeah,” Peter echoed. “Remember?”
   If James had been a girl, the noise he let out could have been a whimper. “I know.”
   “And what about that Richard kid she got that ring from?” Remus asked, and both Sirius’ and James’ eyes turned quickly to large dinner plates.
   “I forgot about him,” James mumbled.
   “Obviously,” Remus commented. “And he’s more likely to get her than Snape is.”
   “But he’s a Muggle,” James almost wailed. “She can’t!”
   “James, hate to break it to you, but this is Lily,” Sirius sighed. “She’ll do what she wants to, and if you tell her not to, she will, just to spite you. And it always turns out okay for her in the end, so she hasn’t learned the meaning of the phrase ‘cutting off your nose to spite your face’.”
   Frank nodded. “This I can confirm.”
   “You’re also remembering Serena, aren’t you?” Sirius, as usual, had mentioned one more down side.
   “Damn.” James hit his skull against the headboard of the four-poster. “Ow.”
   “I take that as a no.” Remus almost smiled. “You know, for the Head Boy, you really are a bit clueless.”
   ”Gee, thanks,” James snapped. “You four, go to bed!”
   He was surprised when they obeyed.
   That night, only Frank, Remus, and Peter slept well. James, for obvious reasons, was tossing and turning and throwing pillows off of his bed for the entire night, and Sirius was lying in his own four-poster, staring at the ceiling. Both of them were thinking the same thing.
   “If Snape gets to her first, I don’t know what I’ll do.”