Beyond Hogwarts cont; Chapter Twenty Seven

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

“AND ITALY RECOVERS NICELY-“ the announcer picked up-“THERE WE GO; ALL RIGHT-THE QUAFFLE GOES TO AMUDSEN-KNAG-BACK TO AMUDSEN-STAUBER-OW; that was a Bludger…never mind, his nose isn’t broken-but the Quaffle to ITALIAN CHASER VALENTINO-BIAGIO-VALENTINO-BIAGIO-no, that’s Guacomini-GUACOMINI SCORES!! TEN POINTS TO ITALY! SCORE IS EIGHTY TO NINETY FOR ITALY!”
   A deafening roar from the Italian side of the stadium and a whoof of booing from the Norwegian fans combined to give Guacomini such a blast of energy that he rocketed upwards, straight into the path of a Bludger aimed at him by one of the Norwegian Beaters.
   “OUCH-that must have hurt; right in the rearend…but don’t worry, girls; no lasting harm done-and he’s back in the game! KNAG IN POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE-KNAG-AMUDSEN-BIAGIO-GUACOMINI-STAUBER-KNAG-AMUDSEN-STAUBER-AMUDSEN-VALENTINO-VALENTINO SCORES!! NINETY TO NINETY FOR ITALY!”
   Lily could tell no difference in the tactics of the two teams’ Chasers, but James and Sirius were intent on just those points, and frequently a phrase such as: “nice swerve, but a bit closer could have cut it”, “That could have been turned into a feint so easily; dunno why he didn’t”, and “Y’know, if Knag would tie her hair back, she might have been able to see that goalposts…”
   Bill Weasley was listening, agog, to the conference between the two avid fans, and Lily had a funny feeling that Molly Weasley would have their heads for making her son an addict. Then again, she should have known better than to let Bill go on a trip like this if she minded incessant Quidditch-talk that much…
   Suddenly, all attention was riveted to a small spot in the higher stands, near the Norway fans-Martelli, the Italian Seeker, and Møller, the Norwegian one, had both swerved into the centre of the stadium, barreling Chasers and Beaters out of their way as they sped through, neck to neck.
   “ALMOST THERE-CLOSE-CLOSE-MIGHT BE A BIT OF ELBOWING GOING ON THERE-MARTELLI STRETCHES OUT-COME ON, COME ON-OH, THAT WAS CLOSE! AND MØLLER HAS THE SNITCH-NORWAY WINS WITH TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY TO ONE HUNDRED AND TEN!!”
   “Of all the bloody-”
   "Frank!” Eva had elbowed him, hard. “For Merlin’s sake, don’t do any more damage!”
   Her warnings did no good, however; Sirius and James had launched into swearing competitions, while Bill listened, fascinated.
   Once back at the tent, however, they had toned down the language to an occasional “bloody hell; that man’s blind as a bat!”, and they were at least a tiny bit distracted by the dinner Slenka had prepared for them; it was sitting on a table inside the tent so that the crowds returning to their own plots wouldn’t trample anything.
   The company took their plates outside, and until one-thirty in the morning, when Bill fell asleep in a bowl of leftover pineapple, they resumed their Quidditch discussion. Remus had thoughtfully refrained from replaying anything on his Omnioculars throughout the entire game, so, for three hours, which was the amount of time that the game would still show itself on the lenses, Lily and James were allowed to catch up on what they had missed: three outstanding goals by Valentino, a Bludger shot to Amudsen’s head by Farinelli, one of the Italian Beaters, and a piece of intricate interplay between the Norwegian Chasers; speeded up, it looked like five diamonds; three on the bottom, corners touching, and two on the top.
   Bill Weasley’s notebook afforded several laughs, too; along with ‘Frankisapottymouth’ and ‘bloody wickets’, he had written down words like ‘Wronski Defensive Feint’, ‘Porskoff’, ‘blatching’, ‘pompousprat’, ‘Naxos’, and ‘Must remember not to tell Mum about amount of candy Uncle James gave me’. He didn’t quite understand what the humor was in ‘Frankisapottymouth’, and was put to bed in a blissful state of confusion and stickiness; he had gone to sleep clutching a Sugar Quill in his hand.
   The next morning, everyone rose early-five-thirty-to pack up their things before everyone else started haggling over Portkeys; they were some of the first few out of Naxos. Armed with all of their baggage, they arrived in a bumbling heap on the floor of Lily and James’ mansion.
   They ate breakfast there, after which most of them Apparated to their own flats and homes to sleep another few hours, promising to meet again soon to talk over the match. Bill was as energetic as ever, and he happily scurried around the gardens, chasing Vera, leaping over logs, and de-flowering nearly the whole garden for a bouquet he handed gallantly to his ‘aunt and uncle’, as a present for letting him come to the World Cup.
   Molly and Arthur Weasley picked him up in the afternoon, the recipients of gallons of descriptions and exclamations that Bill showered down upon him; all four of the grown-ups had an inkling that Charlie Weasley would be more than just a little jealous when Bill returned home.
   In comparison to the night of the Cup, the next few days were relatively calm, but James’ condition was improving rapidly, and on the day he went back to work-the 28th-Lily was so nervous that she could hardly speak, let alone handle a teapot without shaking. She wasn’t sick to her stomach anymore, which was a relief, but she was perturbed enough to make up for twenty illnesses.
   No one came over to their house that day while James was at work; a relief, but it left her with nothing to do. She tried to read, but closed each book after about five minutes; riding hardly helped, either. She had been riding for only fifteen minutes before she had to turn back, feeling the insane inclination to jump off of her horse’s back. It was panic; sheer panic, and she couldn’t fight it. Lily jumped at every noise in the house; she kept imagining that it was James standing behind her, newly-endowed with the knowledge of what she had done while he was in the hospital.
   At five o’clock, she couldn’t even force herself to sit down for a few seconds; she was continually walking to and fro, from one room to another, trying to rearrange flower combinations and ending up with shattered vases; touching the boxes of Floo powder and upsetting them onto carpets.
   And then, at five-twenty-five, a small pop in the entrance hall noted someone’s arrival. Lily had been trying to scoop green powder from the entrance hall’s fireplace into its box, but, on seeing James, she rose to her feet, determined not to break down.
   “Hullo,” he said, nodding. “Sikora came to talk to me today.”
   “Oh.” Lily brushed the powder off of her hands nervously. “What…er…what about?”
   James sighed. “Lily, you know very well what about. Just-“ He looked down, switching the handles of his bag from one hand to another. “Look, I’m not an idiot. Who made you send in that response-Snape, Malfoy-Lord Voldemort? Or some other Death Eater?”
   Lily’s eyes opened suddenly. He wasn’t prepared to believe that she had done that of her own free will-wasn’t angry with her as of yet. All she had to do was say that Lucius cursed her-that someone had entered their house late at night with a threat towards James…all she had to say…
   “I-er…I…”
   “Lily,” he said softly, dropping his work and walking towards her, taking her arms gently. “Lily, I love you-I know you wouldn’t send that answer in by yourself. I didn’t believe it for a minute.” Stepping back, he took both of her hands. “Just tell me, please, who made you-if they did anything to you, I-“
   The same nausea at the Quidditch World Cup started to rise again, and with a sudden burst of calmness, Lily shook herself free. “No.”
   No. She couldn’t. Even though lying to him would cure everything, she couldn’t do it. He was one of the only people that had caused this explosion inside her mind: that a lie would ruin everything. And at that moment, she knew that he would fly into a rage, knew that she had protected the men-and possibly women-that had killed his parents. She knew that Tom had prevented his hope of ever having a family, and she knew that she had done that to him. But all that mattered to her now was his trust-something odd to want, since her decision had probably destroyed much of it.
   Still; that hadn’t been a blatant lie…it might have been worse in some people’s eyes, but Lily saw it almost as a lifeline to be honest with James-and she couldn’t let it go, no matter what the repercussions might be, and even though they might be worse than that of a lie. A fool she might be, but not a downright liar, not to him.
   Puzzled, James let his arms drop. “No? What-no?”
   “No, that’s all.” She took a deep breath, placing one hand on the mantlepiece for support. A serene, unshaking hand. “No one forced me to send that; not Lucius, not Tom, not anyone. I decided that on my own.”
   It took a few moments for her words to sink in, and when they did, the only look on his face was one of incredible astonishment. “What?”
   “Come into the living room-or somewhere where we can sit.”
   “No,” James said shortly. “Right here; right now.”
   His coldness wasn’t unexpected, but it came as a flooding shock to her. Determinedly, however, she went on.
   “All right. Bode-from the Department of Mysteries-made me read it. I-I didn’t decide that day…I was sort of wandering around Knockturn Alley that evening-I don’t quite remember what happened there, but Severus brought me home, sick. And-well, I knew that he and others I knew would be among those killed…and so would people like Frank-they’re Aurors, and it’s more than unlikely that the Ministry would send out anyone but trained Aurors.”
   Taking a deep breath, she let go of the mantel. “I know this sounds crazy, but…in a way, Tom’s still my friend, and Lucius-at least on my side of the story. And-I couldn’t…I just couldn’t.” Looking up fiercely, she met a furious gaze. “You try sending someone out to kill Sirius, or Remus, or Peter, and see what you do about that!”
   James’ glare was enough to set water on fire. “You mean to tell me that after that slime killed my parents, had his followers blackmail us, prevented us from having a family, murdered hundreds of Muggles and wizards with even more in mind, and wreaked havoc on more than just Southern England, you’re still considering him a close friend?”
   “Yes, I am!” Lily snapped. “Of course I am! Do you think six years count for nothing?”
   “SIX YEARS AS THE FRIEND OF A TRAITOR?” James shouted savagely, advancing. “A MURDERER, A PIECE OF SLIME THAT DOESN’T DESERVE TO BREATHE?”
   “Yes!” she shrieked, “yes! Of course it matters! Listen-you said that you loved me, and you knew that I would be counted a traitor in the Ministry’s eyes! You’ve done exactly the same thing; don’t condemn me for it!”
   “This is different! This is the murderer himself! You haven’t killed anyone, have you?”
   At that, she lost all control. “What; have you lost so much of anything in me that you believe that I routinely murder people? What next; are you going to be accusing me of infidelity, spying, massacres? Is that what I stand for to you?”
   “I DON’T KNOW, MRS. POTTER; IS IT?”
   Normally, Lily would have been shocked into speechlessness, but she had never been less in control of her mind; her mouth, and her actions.
   “You don’t trust me, then,” she spat coldly. “So everything I do is invariably wrong because I feel sorry for someone? Tom’s entitled to pity, too, more than anyone else I know.”
   “If you do feel pity, do so for the people your friend has killed,” James retorted. “At least three hundred, and mounting every day. Think of that, O Humanitarian!”
   “Humanitarian,” Lily scoffed. “That’s all you can think of? Try these: it’s my fault your parents are dead; it’s my fault you’ll never have a family, and it’s my fault you’ll be running from him madly once he rises to power. All of them would hit the mark; go ahead: see what you think of them!”
   His face closed abruptly. “What do you mean by ‘it’s my fault’?”
   “Isn’t it? If I hadn’t befriended Tom; if I hadn’t found that necklace; if I hadn’t forgotten the charm to let myself out of that dungeon I was locked into in first year, do you think you’d be in danger? You won’t have a family because he despises you, but he wouldn’t have known that you existed if I hadn’t kept on going back to Albania.”
   “Well, if you insist, then yes, it is your fault! Satisfied? You’re the cause of everything; you’re the culprit! You’re the cretin that’s made so many people’s lives unbearable-and still more, now that you’ve condemned hundreds of other families to death!”
   “Well, then,” Lily snapped, all reasoning unrecallably lost, “would it have been better if I had never been born at all? Never been a witch? Never befriended you? Never married you? Is that what you’re after, Mr. Potter? Is that what you want me to go back to-the hellion of a witch that hated everything about you-do you want me to wish you dead?”
   “FROM WHAT YOU’VE DONE SO FAR, YOU OBVIOUSLY ALREADY DO!”
   A sudden shaking spread over Lily’s shoulders. “All right, then. Fine. Fine. Fine! God knows I don’t need you, you prejudiced, incompatible-!”
   She dematerialized with an angry pop, leaving James in the entrance hall alone; reappearing in the bedroom, she touched the necklace underneath her shirt, making sure it was still clasped around her neck, pulled a few pairs of pants, shirts, a couple of skirts, and two cloaks out of the closet, stuffing everything inside the first thing she could find: a pillowcase.
   Yanking open a drawer, she pulled her purse out; it contained fifty Galleons, enough to tide her over for a long time. Pulling Vera out from underneath the bed, she picked up the pillowcase and purse, shook her hair back from her shoulders, and Disapparated.
   Eva was stirring something on the stove, humming something to herself as she directed a few potatoes into a pot, when a sudden pop behind her made her spin around.
   “Lily?”
   “Hullo,” Lily said brightly, attempting to be cheerful. “Eva, could you put me up for a few days?”
   Eva frowned. “What on earth-“ She shoved the pan onto the back burner of the stove and took Lily’s pillowcase from her, leading her friend into the living room that doubled as a dining room on occasion. “Tell me: what happened?”
   “Fight,” Lily said briefly. “I need to get away from that house.”
   Patting the spot on the sofa next to her, Eva tilted her head thoughtfully. “You couldn’t just move into one of the other bedrooms you two never use?”
   “I could not,” Lily said with finality. “I’ve got to get away from there.”
   “Hm.” Poking around inside the pillowcase for a small diversion, Eva’s glance rested on the purse and the few pieces of clothing. “I suppose…that means, if Frank has nothing against it.”
   “If Frank has something against what?”
   Jovially grinning, Frank Longbottom swung into the living room. “Hello, Lily.”
   “Frank,” Eva asked, “could she board with us for-well, a few days?”
   The grin dropped halfway. “What happened?”
   “Just a fight, that’s all,” Lily intervened. “I’ll be happy to pay you-“
   Lightly, Eva hit her on the shoulder. “Lily Potter, you’re being a flaming idiot. We’re not taking money from you, you rich flathead.”
   Frank laughed. “Of course you can stay. Is sleeping on the sofa all right with you?”
   “Absolutely,” Lily nodded. “I’m not looking for a luxury suite; just somewhere to stay.”
   “And eat, too,” Eva said, jumping up. “I’d better get back to dinner. Lily, just shove your things into the closet on your right. If you want to help with dinner...oh, that is disgusting. Frank, do me a favor and run out for another bag of potatoes!”
   Lily jumped up, closing the closet door. “I’ll get them. Where from?”
   “That is Frank’s job,” Eva interposed. with finality. “Frank, do get there before they close!”
   “Eva, what market do you two usually frequent?” Lily shouted.
   “Oh, all right,” Eva grumbled lightheartedly. “Go to Fraeden Square…if you’re using Floo powder, the second alley on your right leads to the marketplace. Third stand from your left is the woman we usually buy from.”
   “Three Sickles,” Frank said, pressing them into her hand. “That’s all you should need.”
   Throwing on a pair of robes over the dress she was wearing, Lily took a small handful of Floo powder, throwing it into a barely burning fire and shouting “Fraeden Square!”
   She emerged, coughing, into the familiar, cheerful ring of stands; the witches selling flowers were slowly packing up their bouquets, and the shops were starting to light their candles. Moving towards the marketplace Eva had directed her to, Lily found the witch selling potatoes quite easily. In a few moments, she was Apparating back to the Longbottom house.
   “Here you go,” she breathed heavily, letting the sack fall onto the kitchen floor. Eva didn’t turn around, and Lily frowned. “What?”
   “James was here,” Eva murmured. “I told him I hadn’t seen you-but next time he comes around, I’m telling him.” She faced Lily, taking her hands. “Lily, I can’t not tell him. You weren’t there; you didn’t see him. I can’t let him think you’ve gotten yourself killed by some raving mad idiot in Knockturn Alley or something. You’ve got to understand.”
   “All right,” Lily said heavily, “but then I’m leaving.”
   She started out of the kitchen, but Eva was faster, Slipping around her, she blocked the door off. “Lily, no. You two’ve just had a stupid fight, that’s all. You’ll never get anywhere if you keep running.”
   “You sound like an adult,” Lily snapped. “Annoyingly right.”
   “Thank you,” Eva accepted. “Now, help me get the table set. Plates are in the cupboard over there.”
   “I feel like I’m being directed around by a mother, and for some reason, I’m enjoying it,” Lily commented, opening the cabinet.
   “Mm-hm,” Eva replied. “I suppose I am being rather controlling.” She stuck her tongue out at Lily. “I suppose that’s simply because I’m so much more emotionally mature than you are.”
   “I can be emotionally mature,” Lily informed her.
   “Yes. But don’t prove it to me by breaking my plates.”
   “I was not going to break your plates!”
   Eva shot her a Look, and Lily suddenly looked about as mischievous as the Marauders did every day in Hogwarts.
   “Okay, so possibly I was considering it to see what your reaction would be, but I didn’t intend to.”
   “Children these days,” Eva sighed, affectedly and falsely. “No respect for china; none at all.”
   The next day was a Tuesday, which meant that Frank and James were off to work, leaving the two girls at home without many interruptions. Eva and Lily dropped by Fortescue’s around lunch, into a small café for soup, and chattered a pleasantly sunny day away.
   Frank was expected home at five, and Lily was boiling water in the kitchen for vegetables, while Eva plumped up a few pillows on the sofa. Lily didn’t hear anyone arrive, but after a few minutes she was aware that people were talking in low, muted voices in the living room.
   Stepping quickly to the doorway, she frowned. “Eva, what’s wro-“
   Lily fell silent; her gaze had landed on James. Frank must have brought him here from the Ministry, she thought, working to keep her face impassive. She had expected to see James soon, just not so quickly, and she was surprised at the look in his eyes. It wasn’t angry at all; simply worried, relieved, and something else she couldn’t quite pin down.
   “Hullo,” he said quietly, looking directly at her.
   “Hello,” Lily replied with an effort. “Why are you here?”
   “Frank,” James shrugged. “Could I-ah-talk to you?”
   “Y’know,” Eva put in, very unsubtly, “I’d better get to work on dinner. Frank, come with me…can’t…er…lift these pots by myself…”
   They disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the living room silent. Uncomfortably, Lily sat down, feeling relieved when he did the same.
   “Is that why you were sick during the World Cup?” James asked abruptly. He didn’t have to tell her what he was talking about; it was in the very air around them.
   Lily crossed her ankles. “Ye-es, mostly.”
   “Mostly?”
   “The Sugar Quills helped.”
   He laughed softly, then sobered. “I’m sorry. Guess I should have realized how long you’ve been worrying about this…I honestly don’t know why I didn’t remember how horrible you’ve been looking for the past few days.”
   “Excuse me?”
   She almost laughed at the awkwardness that suddenly came over him. “I-I didn’t mean you’ve been looking horrible…just-er-not…ah…well, you looked sick…and…well, you look nice even when you’re sick, just less so than-er…no, forget that…I-“
   Lily snorted. “It’s all right, really! I know what you meant.”
   “Okay. Good.”
   He looked very relieved, and almost like a first year that had been dragged to Professor McGonagall’s office for covering the caretaker’s cat in plaster: a bit humble, hoping for a mild punishment, and somewhat nervous.
   Sighing, Lily recrossed her ankles. “I suppose I shouldn’t have…well, lost my temper.” She looked up at him, hoping he’d accept what she had to say. “I know it was a mistake not to have sent the Aurors…but-I just…”
   He moved over next to her quickly, taking her hands. “Lily, I thought about what you had said earlier…I couldn’t have sent anyone out to kill Sirius-or Remus, or Peter…and I don’t blame you.”
   “Much,” she added wryly.
   “What?”
   “You don’t blame me much.” She sighed, leaning against his shoulder. “James, I’m so sorry about your parents.”
   His face fell. “Lily, you didn’t do that!” He hugged her. “You know you didn’t. I know you didn’t; don’t believe it for a minute.”
   “If I hadn’t married you,” she said dully, “or if I hadn’t let you come with me to Albania in fifth year…”
   “If anything, it was my fault,” he murmured quietly. “Or Voldemort’s; he didn’t have to be so fretful.”
   Lily laughed. “You’re the first person I know of that has described the terror of the wizarding world as ‘fretful’.”
   “He is,” James observed, rubbing his nose. “And he throws tantrums, and has horrible taste, and-“
   “Horrible taste?”
   “Tattoos are usually much less painful than brands, and the brand he’s given to the Death Eaters is disgustingly free of dancing fairies and pine trees.”
   “You would frighten me,” Lily said amiably, “if I didn’t know you that well.”
   James shrugged. “Eh, well. Forgiven on both sides, then?”
   “Yes,” she replied quietly.
   About thirty seconds later, James sat back abruptly.
   “I suppose you should know that I intended to write to Sikora in the morning and do whatever I could to take…er…your decision back.”
   “If you could manage that, it would be wonderful,” Lily sighed. “Just do me one favor: tell me when and where it’ll be taking place so that I can warn Severus.”
   James scowled, but assented. “I don’t know what you see in that prat, but all right. I will.”
   “Dinner’s ready!” Eva shouted from the kitchen. “Are you children speaking to each other yet?”
   “Yeah, we are,” James grinned. “You can go ahead and put us next to each other at table; we won’t try to mutilate each other’s shins.”
   Five days later, James returned home from the Ministry, exhausted, frustrated, thwarted, and discouraged. He had been trying to take back the letter Lily had written, attempting to give his assent to the mission, but problems had jumped up everywhere with the departments and their heads.
   “It won’t go through!” James snapped as a greeting to Lily, who was standing in the smaller living room, rearranging a vase of flowers. “They won’t let me take it back!”
   She frowned. “They won’t let you form another mission?”
   “No. Some blithering idiot in the Department of Mysteries keeps cropping up with new problems, and I’m getting ready to set his hair on fire. He’s not affiliated with Voldemort, but the stinking, brainless prat can’t tell his elbow from a bruise on his head.”
   “Who is it this time?” Lily asked, sitting down next to him on the sofa and handing him her glass of pumpkin juice.
   “Rookwood. He’s Bagman’s friend; that should tell you something.”
   “Yes, that family isn’t too bright,” Lily mused. “I don’t like this.”
   “Stupid, toddling, bloody git…why he was ever given a job there, I don’t know…”
   “I do hope my name wasn’t mentioned in connection with that last sentence,” Sirius said brightly, popping his head inside the door. “I heard ‘stupid, toddling, bloody git’.”
   “No, wasn’t you,” Lily replied cheerfully. “When did you get here?”
   “About five minutes ago. Been trying to chat up your house-elf. Say, what’s wrong with him?”
   “Work,” Lily said briefly, and Sirius nodded, attempting to look wise.
   “Ah, yes, that will do that to some.” A sudden flash of cheekiness lit up his face. “Lily, do you mind if I try to cheer him up?”
   “What are you planning to do?” Lily asked warily.
   “I won’t take him out of England,” Sirius pleaded. “Come on, Lily; he hasn’t been for a ride on the motorcycle for ages.”
   Lily grinned. “All right, all right; just bring him home in a reasonably decent condition.”
   “Will do!” Snapping to attention, Sirius bowed deeply. “Sir is being kidnapped. Come with Sirius, please, sir.”
   “What the-“
   “Sirius will not hurt sir; Sirius would never dream of hurting sir. Sir is good friend of Sirius; Sirius only means to mutilate sir. Come along, sir!”
   “Knock it off!” James grumbled, though in a slightly better mood, as he was pulled towards the hooks onto which he had thrown his cloak.
   “We’re toddling off to my flat. Come on!”
   “Have fun!” Lily shouted after them before two small pops announced their disappearance.