Beyond Hogwarts cont; Chapter Twenty One

-=Beyond Hogwarts, cont.; Chapter Twenty One=-

The next few months flew past almost peacefully-Lucius Malfoy had retracted his threats and nothing more of the incident was said anywhere outside of their home, but Lily knew all too well that Lucius intended to have nothing more to do with them, especially her. She had been the one to interfere with the Memory Charm, and Lucius, no matter how powerful he was or how little he feared the consequences of the Unforgivable Curses, couldn’t stand up to both her and James, and he knew it. She was the smartest witch in their year, and James was the prankster with the intelligence to invent about a hundred and fifty of his own, private spells.
   Once, in the second week of May, Sirius had gone to Fraeden Square with Lily; they intended to get several boxes of flowers to plant around Lily and James’ house. When Lily had finished selecting, Sirius was very well loaded down, and Lucius Malfoy had taken that moment to Apparate into the street a few feet behind them, Serena on his arm.
   He smirked at Sirius’ dirt-speckled robes, and then saw Lily. The insulting smile vanished, replacing itself with a hard, cold glare, which he fixed on her relentlessly.
   “Hallo, Lucius,” she said clearly, lifting her chin. “Haven’t seen you for some time.”
   Lucius didn’t speak. His stare seemed, suddenly, to go right through her, and he turned aside with Serena, as if he hadn’t seen the both of them.
   “Nice fellow,” Sirius commented. “Compared to the falling blade part of the guillotine, that is.”
   “Oh, shut up,” Lily told him. “Just because you have room to talk doesn’t mean you can.”
   “On the contrary,” he grinned, “that’s the fun part of having room to talk.”
   “I am going home,” Lily announced, “and whoever wishes may follow, leaving their comments behind.”
   Sirius rolled his eyes. “James is more fun than you are when it comes to making fun of Malfoy.”
   Lily just looked at him sternly before Disapparating.
   For June twenty-fourth, their second anniversary, the couple hadn’t planned anything outrageously special. They hadn’t celebrated anything last year, and neither of them really wanted to do much in the way of traveling or anything expensive-they had had seven months of that on their honeymoon.
   James, this time, had cut Lily out of all the planning, and the top floor of their house was forbidden to all but Eva, Lora, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. Consequently, Lily had been getting masterfully sick and tired of her room, the living room, and the library for a good week or so-she couldn’t even ride; James had restricted that as well.
   Severus had been coming over more frequently at her request, just so that she could have someone to talk to. He had complied readily with her request, and Lora had often snapped a wet dishcloth at an innocent doorframe at the sight of Severus Snape lounging comfortably in Lily’s company. Not many people were honestly reconciled to his presence on earth, and Lora was one of those that found large problems in hiding her point of view.
   Severus had taken a job in a library, copying ancient texts and cataloguing them. True, it wasn’t quite anyone’s aspiration in life, but it was something, and he lived in his own flat now. James had refused to see it, but Lily had visited him several times.
   He really didn’t have a bad sense of housekeeping; at least he was neat, Lily thought, as compared to some people, one of which she lived with. And, contrary to James’ dour predictions, there were no dark and forbidding gaps in the floor, with green flames flickering through, there were no poison tablets lying around in candy bowls, and an aura of ‘disgusting, nasty repulsiveness’ was only present in the fireplace, which he often neglected to clean.
   The apartment wasn’t so much different from Sirius’ and Remus’-there were more papers and books lying around, and they were covered with neater writing. Severus didn’t usually try his hand at cooking, so the constant aroma of burnt kettles that dominated the kitchen in Sirius’ kingdom was absent there. Instead, a combination of burnt sulphur (from matches), a constantly bubbling potion, butterbeer, and some sort of pie, usually apple, prevailed in the scent of the dark blue sofa in front of the fireplace.
   One afternoon, both of them-Severus and Lily-were sitting on the balcony outside the living room in the company of a fruit bowl and a lemonade pitcher. Lily had just finished relating the entire Lucius Malfoy episode to him, and he was digesting it carefully.
   “I didn’t believe Lucius would do that, though-not to me, at any rate.” Lily ran a weary hand through her hair, slouching on the divan.
   “You don’t know him as well as I do, obviously,” Severus said wryly. “In Malfoy language, ‘friends with benefits’ means you’re allowed to polish his shoes.”
   “So I assume James was a friend with extra benefits,” Lily laughed. “Serena was practically undressing him in the entrance hall.”
   Severus just snorted, looking away at a drooping chestnut tree, and Lily refilled his glass of lemonade.
   “You know, come to think of it, this might be best-I don’t think I could have kept up any kind of friendship with Lucius very well. At least you’re tolerant of James-Lucius made it very clear to me every time we spoke that he considers him the smallest speck of squished worm on his expensive, imported dragonhide boots.”
   “Yeah; that sounds like Lucius.”
   Lily sighed. “He’s the type of person who, if you’re his friend, requires you to give up anything offensive to him-and in this case, it would have been James, sooner or later.”
   Amused, Severus accepted the lemonade. “Some advice from me to you: find less demanding friends.”
   “I heard a comment that might involve me,” a good-humoured voice called from the garden. Cheeks flushed, Lora jogged over to the two, leaning on the balcony’s railing.
   “Hallo, Lora.”
   “Hullo. I managed to wheedle James into giving me a break. He’s getting most tyrannic, he is.”
   “I’m getting tired of this,” Lily frowned mockingly. “Even Severus knows what James is planning, and guess who gets left out?”
   “He would have been left out, too, on purpose, but he forgot where the bathroom was,” Lora scowled. “Git.”
   “I would compliment you on your outstanding personal traits, but there’s an astounding lack of anything to admire,” Severus grinned, not in the least fazed by her dislike. “And I don’t see any sign of improvement in the near future.”
   Lora’s mouth hung elegantly open for a split second, and then she rounded on an unsuspecting and innocent piece of turf, stomping on it mercilessly.
   “Lily, I’ve got several things to say about your choice of friends.”
   “Severus has already commented, thank you,” Lily grinned. “They’re too demanding and they don’t have the many wonderful qualities making them worthy of the divine Society of People Approved Of By Severus Snape. However, I think we’ll all go on living.”
   Severus frowned, throwing a cherry pit at Lora. “You deprive me of my best arguments with comments like that, you know?”
   “That’s the point,” she informed him, setting the bowl of fruit on the floor, well out of reach.
   Lora eyed Severus testily, then sniffed.
   “I’ll leave you two, then. I’d better get back upstairs, anyway-James is getting to be worse than Professor McGonagall. See you later!”
   Lily leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the figure in a long T-shirt and jeans disappearing around the corner of the house. Smiling, she turned to Severus.
   “You know, if you two would only get over the fact that you were Sorted into different Houses, you might actually get along. She’s rather entertaining once you get to know her.”
   “Entertaining, no. Comical, yes, droll, maybe, absolutely ridiculous, certainly, but entertaining: no.”
   “I said ‘if’,” Lily sighed. “I’m beginning to think that reasonable tolerance is too much to ask.”
   “It is,” Severus agreed. “It certainly is. Especially with the subhuman beings you associate with.”
   Lily just looked at him. Very deliberately, she picked up her glass of lemonade, lifted it right over his lap, and coolly dumped the contents onto his pants and robe.
   Later that evening, Severus, lemonade-free, had returned to his flat, and Lily was curled up on a cushion-filled couch in the library with Ernest Hemingway’s To Have and Have Not; she had seen the Humphrey Bogart film when she was small, and had found the book in a Muggle story just two days before.
   A knocking storm on the door interrupted her; placing a piece of ribbon between the pages, she stood up. “Come in!”
   Eva and Lora entered, broad grins on their faces. “Come on. It’s time!”    Taking her by the arms, they steered her into the bedroom upstairs, where, lit by a pyramid of shining candles, a white-and-gold dress was lying on the bed.
   Lily just stood in the doorway for a couple of minutes, staring at it, before Lora picked it up, handing it to her as if Lily were a queen, curtseying deeply.
   “For the lady,” she said, unable to repress a smile. “Will she allow her servants to attire her?”
   Lily raised an eyebrow. “You’re intending to dress me? What am I, five?”
   “No,” Eva corrected, “nineteen. But you can’t put the corset on by yourself; that’s what we’re here for.”
   The queen’s eyes sparkled. “Corset?”
   “I told James so!” Eva grinned. “Mais oui, madame.”
   Forty-five minutes later, Lily had stepped out of the bath, submitted to being rubbed down with the last of the Balm of Gilead from Egypt, and had slipped into the dress. Eva had proven herself to be amazingly adept at lacing corsets, and she had taken over that task.
   The mirror had been enchanted to dispel reflections, so all Lily could see was a blurred bit of silver every time she tried to look at the closet door, something rather disappointing and a bit irksome.
   “James didn’t leave anything out, did he?” she smiled, not really exasperated but pretending to be.
   “No,” Lora agreed, who had slipped in and out of the room, now with her hands behind her back. “Close your eyes.”
   Obediently, Lily dropped her eyelids, and, as she felt Lora’s hands pass around her neck, sensed the lukewarm touch of metal around her throat.
   “Another necklace?”
   “Wait till you see this one,” Eva’s voice beamed. “Even I haven’t seen anything like it, and my parents don’t exactly live shabbily.”
   “All right.” Lora removed her fingers from the clasp in the back. Lily felt a funny sensation on her scalp, that of her hair rearranging itself, and then that of something glass being poked into her head.
   “What-“
   “Don’t talk, darling. You can open your eyes now.”
   They flew open, and the first thing they registered was a beautiful, ornate mirror, which had been conjured just in front of Lily. At first, she could only see the candles reflecting off of the glass, but then her hand dropped from where it had been fiddling with a fold of her skirt.
   Long, elegant, and white, shimmering with almost invisible golden threads, the dress flowed down around her legs, wide and trailing at her feet. A girdle, made entirely of golden vines and leaves, twined around her lower hips; two pale golden silk wisps of cloth hung from the middle of the belt, hanging almost to her feet.
   The bodice was a white corset sewn into the dress, made of the same material as the skirt, but underneath the laces, gold, ruffled silk flowed upwards. White-gold sleeves separated just below her shoulderblade into two long, gliding pieces of fabric, widening and fading when they reached her calves.
   Her hair had been given a visit to an accomplished confectioner, it seemed: put up on the back of her head in an elaborate confection of braids, twists, and curls, it was a crown in itself. And, among the masses of auburn hair, a crystal lily twinkled, ornamented with golden streams.
   “I,” Lora announced, “am going to murder you. Pretty people shouldn’t be allowed existence.”
   Lily just laughed. “Is that a compliment?”
   “Yes, a backhanded one,” Lora grinned. “Come on. Upstairs with the queen. We’re not having all of that elbow grease going to waste.”
   “Or romance,” Eva glared. “This is an anniversary; she doesn’t need to hear about elbow grease.”
   “And money,” Lora said, thinking and completely ignoring Eva’s last statement. “And yelled orders, and falling curtain rods, and slippery, soapy floors, and beating rugs-“
   “Lora!”
   Lily’s eyes sparkled as she stepped out of the bedroom and glanced around. The hallway and bedrooms had been transformed into a long hallway, carpeted with scarlet and lined with mirrors, golden tapestries, and torchlight.
   She half-pirouetted slowly, gazing at the glittering passageway, the old appreciation for James’ Transfiguration skills resurfacing.
   “Good evening.”
   Lily spun to her right; James had appeared from behind a curtain, taking her arm.
   “Like?” he grinned.
   The corner of her mouth rose as she leaned forward, put a hand gracefully behind his neck, and kissed him evenly, dropping her eyes.
   “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” James grinned once he caught his breath.
   He took her arm, leading her through the corridor, and noting with not a little satisfaction the amazement Lily didn’t try to keep hidden. Her head was turning from side to side incessantly, taking in elaborate swords mounted on the wall, paintings, embroidered minutiae, painted fans-most of which seemed oddly familiar.
   “James?”
   “Hmm?” He steered her around a corner, towards a magnificent marble staircase, at least fifteen feet wide at the bottom and covered in the middle with a golden carpet.
   “For some reason, I’m under the impression that I’ve seen that before,” she murmured, nodding towards a painted china vase, mounted on a pillar at the bottom of the stairs.
   “You have. I think we were in Babylon at the time…you bought it because you liked the combination of green and gold, I believe.”
   They had reached the first rung of the staircase, and Lily stopped, taking his other arm and turning her husband towards her.
   “You’re trying to recreate-“
   “Not restore our honeymoon, no,” he corrected, grinning. “I wouldn’t dare do that; it’s sort of sacrilegious. Besides, I’d muff it up badly. No; this is a sort of memory lane.”
   “Memory lane?” Lily laughed. “Last time I checked, that was a terrible Muggle cliché without much meaning.”
   “Yes. You’re a Muggle-born; you wouldn’t know,” he said superiorly. “It’s actually possible to create hallways safe from all kinds of interference; they’ve got rooms for objects from your past in them, safe and sound, but they cost a lot. Even for me,” he added.
   “So,” she said suspiciously, “what is this?”
   “It’s one of the more genius-like Sirius Black-patented inventions. A Reminiscence Hall.”
   They started up the stairs again, and Lily poked him in the side. “What’s the difference?”
   “The difference is that this one is more advanced,” James admitted. “It’s prettier, for one thing, and you don’t have doors; you have this museum, and it’s built into the house. The Ministry can’t fine me for it, either, because they can’t trace it.” He smirked. “I love self-made spells.” They were almost at the top now, but Lily’s train was still at the middle of the staircase. “The down side is, though, that it isn’t permanent.”
   Lily smiled. “How long will it last, then?”
   “Non-permanent magic is nasty like that; it likes to last till midnight if it’s something big.”
   Resting her head against his shoulder, she took his hand. “It’s a beautiful thought,” Lily beamed. “Thank you.”
   James grinned immodestly. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
   Lily sighed mockingly. “The correct answer is ‘Anything for you, darling, even if it costs me half my kingdom’.”
   “Well, see, I don’t own a kingdom.”
   “No,” she agreed. “You own a massive bank account, mansion, and knowledge of spells. That will qualify if necessary.”
   Just then, they reached the top of the stairs, and the sight of about fifteen people standing around a white-and-gold-decked banquet table met their eyes, all of which broke into clapping as soon as they saw the couple.
   Sirius was there, and Peter, and Remus, naturally. Eva and Frank sat near the end of the table, and Lora, Vanessa, and Amanda next to them. Severus sat on the end of the other side, next to several of James’ Ministry friends-one she knew by sight: Arthur Weasley, a man with an intense interest in Muggles; he had brought his wife, too, who was bouncing a five-year-old on her lap and trying to get an eight-year-old with mounds of freckles to sit down in the chair instead of standing on it.
   The sound of applause followed the couple to their chairs at the head of the table, Lily faintly pink and James grinning broadly, though whether through pride at his wife or the fact that he had taught the eight-year-old Weasley to turn chicken into slug-mash with his father’s wand was uncertain.
   With a magnificent sparkle of red and gold glittering lights, the golden platters arranged along the lengths of the table were filled with food as soon as James had finished seating himself and his wife. (what had been chicken and was now slug-mash had been conjured to keep Bill and Charlie Weasley busy) Every dish James could think of that he had known Lily liked and then some was on the platters: wild rice with walnuts, roasted duck, stuffed green peppers, creamed corn, several different French and Chinese dishes, something James had picked largely because of its name, Zabaglione-it turned out to be a dessert involving ladyfingers and not something with meat and spicy things-Italian sausages, garlic bread, an Andalusian rice salad, and the aforementioned slug, which Bill Weasley was happily poking with his father’s wand and grinning demoniacally every time the mashed mess bounced. It looked like it was burping, Lily thought, suppressing a grin.
   Candles were placed at planned intervals on the table, and a beautiful vase of purple and white orchids formed the centerpiece. Crystal pitchers of lemonade, pumpkin juice, different kinds of wine, and two bottles of champagne were positioned artistically around the flowers. The napkins were new; replicas of those that James’ family had owned-white linen, with their crest in gold embroidery on one corner.
   Around eleven, the guests started dispersing; Severus was one of the first to leave, much to Lily’s chagrin and everyone else’s euphoria. After dinner, he had handed her a corsage of lilies, told her he had to leave, and vanished.
   James came up to Lily a few moments later, wrapping his arms around her waist. “What’s that?”
   He was looking at the flowers. “Nothing-Severus gave them to me.”
   Frowning, he touched the white band holding the stems together. “Where is he?”
   “He left just now,” Lily said, leaning her cheek against his.
   “Well, that’s good, then,” James grinned. “No devastating loss there. If that’s not a reason for fireworks, I don’t know what is.”
   “And speaking of fireworks,” Peter interrupted, “I figured you had forgotten.” And, from underneath the table, he pulled out a large, wooden crate, through which Lily could glimpse several coloured pieces of something. “Remus and Sirius wanted to know if we can get onto the roof.”
   “Break the glass of my reading room and I’ll have the pleasure of removing your head with a torch,” Lily informed him. “Tell Sirius that, too.”
   “Oh, Lily, honestly; don’t you think well of us at all?”
   Sirius popped up next to Peter, with a large, impish smirk on his face. “If she doesn’t, she has good reason not to.”
   “That glass is reparable, isn’t it?” Lily asked James desperately in an undertone, while Sirius and Peter went off with the crate.
   “Er.” James said. “Er. Yes, well, you see…”
   The fireworks were admittedly better than anything Filibuster’s had ever conjured up and James and Sirius had set alight in the girls’ showers. Midnight found James and Lily standing on the marble balcony to the right of the newly-conjured banquet hall, James’ arms around her waist and her head resting on his shoulder, both of them gazing into the last of the fireworks.
   “Well,” James whispered, “have fun?”
   She smiled. “Yes.”
   “Just ‘yes’?”
   “No.” Lily lifted her face to his, kissing him. “It’s twelve in the morning; my eloquence is being drained. Actions speak better than words in this case.”
   “Ay, ay, to that, then, mate,” James replied, grinning before kissing her in return.
   It was only a few minutes after midnight when they left the balcony, but the enchantments had disappeared, leaving the couple with the sight of a neatly crowded attic.
   James sighed. “Wish it could have lasted…but magic on that scale was a bit too intense to last.”
   “You actually added an entire story onto our house, didn’t you?” Lily asked, thoughtfully. “You’ve improved since Hogwarts.”
   “Yes,” he agreed. “The white dress still exists.”
   Looking downward, Lily found he was right-the white gown was the one pale speck in the attic, besides the warm glow of firelight coming from the stairs. “I feel like Cinderella,” she laughed.
   “Cinderella,” James said definitely, “is not to be compared to you. One: she could only snag a prince, two, she didn’t have half her spunk. Somehow I doubt that you’d let a stepmother trample over you for all of your childhood and teenage years.”
   “Yes, but she had a fairy godmother.”
   James grinned. “That’s as may be, but you have an adoring husband who didn’t fall in love with you just because you look more ravishing than words can describe. Which you do, as a matter of fact,” he said thoughtfully, looking her up and down, “but that wasn’t the only reason.”
   Lily smiled up at him, resting an arm around his waist. “Let’s leave the attic, shall we?”
   “It is dusty, isn’t it?” James wrinkled his nose. “Let me carry your train.”
   He looped it over his arm as they descended the narrowish staircase-narrow in the sense that only two people could walk side by side-, letting her walk ahead slightly.
   Taking his arm again once they were in the original hallway, Lily followed him to their bedroom, letting him open the door-not because she was being lazy, but he was in a particularly gallant mood that evening. A faint flush on her cheeks, she moved inside, letting her train drop as soon as she was certain she wouldn’t have to turn any more corners and get it caught on something breakable.
   “You’ll have to help me out of this corset,” she murmured, “it’s laced very well. I-“
   She spun around; her ears had caught a faint rustle and sounds of soft breathing.
   “James,” she whispered below her breath, “there’s someone in here.”
   “What?” James asked in a normal tone, yawning a bit. “Didn’t hear that.”
   Signaling him to be quiet, she pointed towards an area in between their bed and the wall. “There.”
   “Lily, it’s just the cat…you’re not used to the wine, I expect…”
   His voice trailed off; he had seen Vera sleeping contentedly on the pillow mounds on the bed.
   “I-I’ll check, then-“ he whispered-“you stay here.” Stepping forwards, he drew his wand, aiming it at the crevice.
   ”No!-”
   Her shriek came too late to warn him. A black-clothed figure leaped up before James got within five feet of the bed, and, wrenching out a gun from behind his back, fired madly at him, twice.
   The bullets (adfa) hit James straight in the chest. With a wrangled gasp, he fell over backwards, onto the floor, the thump echoed piercingly by Lily’s reiterated scream.
   The attacker looked up, straight into her eyes. She was paralyzed for a split second, watching her husband fall, her pulse playing havoc with her mind.
   And then-then an intense, searing rage filled her mind, one that pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. Stupidly and furiously, she strode over to James’ body, moving in front of him and letting her dress cover his figure.
   Eyes slitted with fury, she opened her mouth in a half-hiss, but before she could say a word, the man in black grabbed a bag he had hidden underneath the bed, desperately broke a window pane with his fist, and vaulted over the side of the balcony, landing flat on the ground, though picking himself up in a flash and vanishing into the darkness.
   Lily just held herself back from following him; she pulled herself away from the balcony rail with a magnificent effort. Whirling back into the room, she knelt down next to James, frantically searching for a pulse.
   Suddenly, he let out a struggling gasp, startling Lily into relief, and started breathing, albeit sharply and faintly. Lily’s shoulders slumped in gratitude, and unexpected tears flew to her eyes as she reached for the shirt underneath his robes, tearing away the stained, red cloth in the middle of his chest.
   “Slenka!” she shouted, not really caring at this point if the elf was asleep or not. “Slenka, up here! Now!”
   The pittering of small, elvish feet burst into the room, and a frightened green figure clad in a rumpled nightshift stopped with a suppressed screech at the sight of the reddened carpet and James’ seemingly lifeless form on the floor.
   “Slenka, get the doctor that took care of me when I broke my rib,” Lily said quietly, but forcefully. “Hurry; tell him he’ll be paid in triplicate if he refuses. I don’t care. Tell him to come immediately. When you’ve done that, get Sirius for me. And Peter, and Remus, if you can find them. Severus, too. Go; hurry!”
   With widened eyes and a small squeak, Slenka disappeared with a crack, leaving Lily alone.
   Ignoring the tears that were falling freely onto James’ shirt, Lily tore a blanket off of the armchair, pressing it against his chest; trying to stop the bleeding. Her shoulders shaking, she bent over him, desperate, frantic, reckless, and filled with a cold, disparaging impression, one seemingly proven by the grey pallor quickly surfacing in his motionless body.