bhchapterV

Night fell quickly, and with that a banquet was spread, the traditional one with several deer the men had killed, lit with torchlight and sprinkled with jokes and laughter. Lily’s eyes sparkled almost dangerously, drunk with fire and an enchantment of existing in the greenwood’s atmosphere. The outlaw was braver than she had imagined, for usually legends and ballads were exaggerated profusely. He took a pleasure she also possessed in stepping underneath the noses of authorities and whisking away by the skin of his teeth. He told her tales about boarding a ship as a despised landsmen and saving that same boat when a pirating boat threatened to board it by the skill of his bow, stories about a lady he had managed to wed to her lover, despised by the girl’s father, sagas of his encounters with the Bishop of Hereford, a man as much out for his blood as the Sheriff of Nottingham was, accounts of a monk that had landed him in a stream, and the famous narrative of his meeting with his present right-had man—John Little, but baptized Little John by the band.
   Lily was captured by the prince of the men. He had no flaws at all that she could discern; gallantry, charm, appearance, air, carriage, voice, tact, wit…
   After dinner, she rose to her feet, and Robin did the same.
   “Hold—good lady. I wish to request something of thee.”
   She tilted her head sideways; smiled.
   “Thou hast dined expressly here, and payment is expected of thee,” he said, bowing. “I am sure we will relieve thee of some of thy simply virtual goods.”
   Lily laughed, throwing her hair and head back, relaxing her shoulders and letting a hand fall on the back of a chair.
   “You will rob us, then?”
   “It is the trademark of us, my lady—we are the robbers of Sherwood Forest.”
   Amused, she sat back down.
   “You won’t take anything from us. We’ve enough money to buy a farmhouse, but we’re wanted in London—in London and in a town next to it. If we show our faces there it’s our deaths.”
   Robin was curious. “Your deaths?”
   “We’re wanted for witches,” she said serenely. “We’re supposed to have been burned to death, and if we return to London, we’ll certainly be.”
   Robin raised his eyebrows. “It’s not many a lady comes in here and admits she carries money, let alone wanted by the law.” He laughed himself, and James glared at him fiercely, thought the effect was spoiled, as Robin wasn’t exactly paying any attention to James.
   “Thou hast spirit,” he said, admiringly. “What wouldst thou say to our setting thee up in a dwelling in the forest? We have passed a rich evening, and it is only meet I thank thee for it.”
   Lily half-smiled, though the real smile was threatening to burst out of the corners of her mouth. “No,” she said, laughter bouncing around her eyes. “No. I’ve got a better idea.”
   “Speak, then,” Robin smiled. “Be it not far-fetched, thy wish is our command.”
   Lily pushed her hair behind her ears. “I want to come with you and your men, and I want to do it when you’re almost positive you’ll meet the Sheriff or the Bishop.”
   The table fell silent almost instantly, and James started to his feet, grasping Lily’s wrist. She turned to him, catching the pleading of his eyes—telling her no, don’t! Don’t!. Hers smiled in return, and she turned back to the captain.
   “What do you say to that?”
   “I say,” Robin said, standing up and shaking her hand, “that thou hast proposed a fair treaty.”
   The men were looking at Lily with appreciation, and only James was downright disapproving of her imperious suggestion. He sank into his seat, burying his face in his hands, and didn’t move when Lily let a hand rest between his shoulderblades.
   The next morning, the faintest rings could be found around Lily’s eyes, but no one noticed it, not in the shadows of the forest. She wore a green cloak that Robin had given her, and, together with a company of three others—Little John, Will Scarlet—Robin’s cousin—and Arthur o’ the Bland, a masterful swinger of the quarterstaff—Robin, James, and she set out. Robin had maintained that she ride on the horse that carried spare weapons, and James wouldn’t hear of anything else. Giving in, they set out for a morning’s sport—shooting that dinner’s deer, but in full view of a tavern the Sheriff’s men frequented.
   The men took their stands, hidden by the brush, watching a clearing with a small brook. They knew deer came here habitually, and they were expecting interesting sport.
   Lily had dismounted, and she sat tailor-style on the grass, the green cloak drawn over her clothing so as to show nothing, not even her feet, and her hood was drawn up over her hair.
   James was standing next to her, leaning his head against a tree, not seeing anything through his closed eyelids, but obviously disapproving. Robin was sitting next to Lily, bow off of his shoulder, and an arrow lying next to it.
   Suddenly, a crackling in the brush parted to reveal a doe, tall and beautiful, and she slowly lowered her head and started to lap up water from the stream. Lily smiled to see the animal, and even more to see Robin and Little John leap alertly to their feet, shooting as an unspoken contest. Still, her smile was malicious and awaiting, awaiting a challenge.
   Two arrows flew simultaneously, and each hit their mark; Robin’s hit the heart of the deer; Little John’s several inches higher. Little John’s snort of disgust, however, was not heard among the clamour that ensued.
   From the bracken near the tavern, a score of men had emerged, all armed, some with swords, some with arrows. They were in armour, and James narrowed his eyes to see them. Each of the six members of the party had sprung to their feet upon hearing the shouts of the Sheriff’s men, and James had grasped Lily’s arm tightly, trying to pull her under cover of the trees.
   High-handedly, though, to his dismay, she managed to shake him off, and, sn atching up a spare bow and arrow, she whipped her cloak to the side, showing the absence of the green velvet dress. James stared. She must have made some of it at least, and probably the tunic; it fitted her flawlessly, falling to her mid-thighs, though he shrewdly suspected that she had pinched the breeches. The girdle was the one of golden leaves that usually hung around the dress waist, but it fit this just as well. Her hair was pinned up, and only a few wisps blew out from underneath the hood.
   Robin was rather thrown off-guard by her appearance, and even more so by the fact that she didn’t shrink back into the distance; she didn’t shriek in a normally accepted ladylike fashion, but in the style of a fireball, she swept forward, catching up spare weapons, and took her stand, shooting calmly at the soldiers.
   James was impressed in spite of himself. She knew how to handle a bow and arrow better than he did, and he hadn’t known that she’d even bothered to learn. Lily hadn’t, really; she just commanded herself to do so, and not one of her arrows missed their marks. Three men had fallen, one with an arrow in his right shoulder, one wounded in his leg, and the other had an arrow cleanly pass into his side. She wasn’t shooting to kill; Robin might, but this was sport for her, and she wasn’t intending to kill anyone in sport.
   Lily pulled the string of the bow back and let the arrow fly, and one man had his sword knocked cleanly out of his hand while gaining the upper hand on Will Scarlet. Her smile lurked at the corners of her mouth again, and swiftly, eyes interested with the glory of battle, she had wrung James’ sword from its scabbard, the one they had bought in Egypt and that Lily insisted never leave him. Wielding it with the skill of the outlaws himself, she met two of the knights in combat.
   They had hardly met such an opponent before; almost more flexible than a blade of grass, she evaded their blows and parried them without losing an interested spark about her. They hadn’t seen her before; in fact, they mistook her for a new outlaw. It was easy to mistake her for a man; after all, no woman then let herself be seen in breeches.
   They put up a worthy fight; six against twenty, but finally the outlaws and their guests were forced to turn into the forest. The band knew every path and rut and creek of the wood, so they had an advantage over the Sheriff’s men, and by the time that the knights had advanced a few hundred yards, the six had regained the clearing.
   Will Scarlet had an arrow in his upper arm, and he immediately fell onto the grass. Lily dropped to her knees next to him, pulled out the chain on which hung the elf-nymph stone and the cordial, and poured a droplet of the liquid onto his arm, where it hissed angrily before dissolving into his bloodstream. As the men watched, in merely seconds, his wound closed up, and Lily calmly wiped off the blood from his arm with a wet handkerchief.
   Before anyone could say anything to her, she had left the circle of men and changed into her dress, and James followed her, replacing the green tunic and breeches he had been lent for the bliaut he had purchased in London. Both of them moved over to their horses, and they stood there, talking, holding the reins of their respective animals.
   “We can’t stay here any longer. We’ve managed to wound one of his men; we can’t stay.”
   “I know that, but I doubt if he’ll let us leave. For all I know, he’ll want to keep us as prisoners or something.”
   ”Don’t be silly,” Lily whispered, “he wouldn’t dare. He can’t. We can leave anytime, and we’re going to. Besides, there’s nothing to keep us here. He doesn’t really approve of me; he was practically disgusted when I started to fight.” Her eyes lingered on his face. “You, at least, don’t do that.”
   James smiled at her. “I married you partly for your spirit; I wouldn’t dare.” He grew serious. “Robin Hood’s walking towards us…”
   Lily swung herself onto her horse as the captain approached. He looked at her with a newfound sort of combination of respect, awe, and dislike.
   “I did not think thou wouldst dare to fight,” he said.
   “I told you I would,” she shrugged. “I don’t go back on what I say. Usually.”
   “If thou wert a man, thou wouldst have a place among my company.”
   “If,” she reminded him. “I do not take the place of a man, I stay who I am.” Lily pulled the last vine from her hair—she had pulled it up with ivy—, letting the mass of burgundy fall onto her back and flinging the used plant complacently away. It landed in front of Robin’s feet.
   “How didst thou heal Will?” he asked. “It was a deep wound.”
   Lily laughed. It was the last time the outlaws heard that sound, but as she ride swiftly out of the clearing, James beside her, they could hear the mocking, bell-like tones for minutes after they could no longer see her.
   Robin bent down and picked the ivy garland up, then let it drop in surprise as golden sparks flew from it. Instantly, it had transfigured itself into a sheet of parchment, and he picked it up, reading the small writing.
   A woman may break thy band, but another will sweep her restless sands away.
   He frowned—what the meaning of that was, he couldn’t tell. The first part of it, he had no doubt, applied to her—a few of his men were standing around Will, talking of following her, possibly bringing her back, but the second part he was in doubt about. But slowly, as the fiery mist he remembered as the auburn-headed tempestuous girl faded, the face of a more familiar lady kept creeping into his mind, pushed by the words of the scroll. A lady with dark brown curls, and one he had once sworn would carry his ring. Lady Marian, the daughter of Sir Peter.
   Lily was smiling slightly to herself as their horses galloped along. James, a bit worried, leaned over and pulled on her reins. They both stopped by the side of the road.
   “Lily?”
   “Hm?”
   He was nervously picking dirt out from underneath his nails. “Do you wish you’d stayed?”
   She ran a hand through her hair. “Yes—and no.”
   “Yes?” James placed an arm through hers. “Why—why yes?”
   “I don’t like many of the men,” she said thoughtfully, but with a firmness that relieved him more than a trace “If I’d stayed there, I’d have been run out of Sherwood Forest. They don’t much like danger; they’d rather lie around and laze their days away, shooting deer. They don’t like skirmishes with the Sheriff. Robin—“
   “Yes?” James asked anxiously. Her gaze fell on his face, and she laughed.
   “Robin’s better than the rest of them, but not much. He’d want me to stay at home and mend torn clothing all the time, and in times of need maybe fire an arrow. He fully expected me to squeal and drop my bow when the Sheriff’s men attacked us; the last thing he anticipated was for me to not only pick up a bow and quiver, but steal your sword and start fighting—and fighting well. He’s handsome, yes—“ James snorted—“and he’s smart and witty and one of the bravest men they have, and a wonderful shot—but he’d want to fit me to an image. I don’t do images well.”
   She let her head fall against James’ shoulder. “At least you like me for myself, and you don’t care how well I can fight or how smart I am.”
   “Or how humble you are.”
   “Hush.” Lily hit his knee lightly. “Well, you don’t.”
   “I don’t,” he agreed. “I think it’s the greatest honor ever to have a smart, beautiful Amazon as a wife, and I don’t care that much about public opinion as to throw you over when you do something that amuses you.”
   She laughed again, taking her reins from his hand. “So, what are we doing now? We’ve only been in England for—for about four days or so—but if you want to leave—“
“We’re not leaving,” James said, “until we’ve got something for everyone back home. Besides, I want you to have a wardrobe full of this kind of clothing.” He looked her up and down. “It looks very good on you.”
   “Where are we going, then?” she inquired. “We can’t go to London.”
   “Oh, can’t we?” he asked. “Why not?”
   Her eyes widened, and her mouth widened in an appreciative grin. Taking that for an answer, James turned their horses westward, and they soon vanished from view of the forest in a cloud of dust.
   Lily had purposely let her long hair fall down onto her back—there were not many people dressed like she was, with the same shade of hair. They had only visited four shops, however, before they were recognized immediately by one of the people that had attended their trial, a woman that by no stretch of the imagination could be called ‘big boned’, and she immediately let out a screech to wake a snake.
   Both of them swung themselves and their packages onto their horses, and, galloping through streets, marketplaces, small gardens, and alleyways, they led five guards, two dogs, several townspeople and a rabble of children a race through London. Lily caught sight of the island on which Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre was later to be built, and she caught sight of a palace on a balcony of which a lady with dark braids hanging to her knees was leaning on the rails, interested in the chase. Lily caught the gleam of her golden crown as they flashed by, and she had to drop behind James to avoid a hanging beam that was protruding from a building that was being torn down.
   They left London when they had tired of the chase, and from there they rode lingeringly through the town in which their old boardinghouse was. Lily found it almost immediately, and she dismounted at the door.
   “Lily,” James asked, “what’re you doing?”
   “I want to get our things. I’ve a feeling she hasn’t messed with them, since we’re a witch and wizard, and my sketchbook’s among what we left there. I’ve got things from the ancient world in there that I’m only parting with over your dead body.”
   “Over mine?” he grinned. “Is that more or less important than yours?”
   She wrinkled her nose at him, laughing, and vanished inside the door. James only had to wait about three minutes before a scream floated onto the streets, and Lily reappeared seconds afterwards, laughing gleefully, like a child after its first ride on a roller coaster.
   Lily flung herself onto the horse’s back, throwing the cauldron over to James. “Go!”
   In a lazy run, the two swerved through the town, the woman’s cries of “Witches!” multiplying through the crowd, as more people caught her shrieks.
   For the next three weeks, the couple wreaked havoc through England, taking posts in a bishop’s house only to escape the next night with a silver tankard filled with coins that they tossed to a swarm of small children playing at a fountain, drawing pictures of people for a few pennies alongside the road while dressed in the most expensive clothes they could find, sending up twentieth-century fireworks over the thirteenth-century sky and watching and listening to the yelps of joy from the younger people and the frightened groans from the elderly, convinced that the Day of Judgment was at hand.
   Lily caught old England in the pages of her sketchbook; the lady that kept their first boardinghouse, the shop in London, the lord and lady that mistook them for someone else, the manor with the mannerless guests, their horses and the pier they docked at, the countryside, a tavern and a minstrel singing at the centre of attention, Robin Hood himself, the clearing he lived in and the banquet that had been held.
   She caught the fight scene between the six outlaws and the Sheriff’s men, the queen in London leaning on the rail, a look of surprise captured on her face, an alley with laundry hanging above their heads, an English shore, the cabinet of the bishop’s house with all his silver plates present, and many more scenes she was afraid to forget. She re-captured Cleopatra VII’s face on another page, and was delighted to find that it hardly differed from the one she had done one afternoon in Egypt, sitting with her back to a palm tree at an oasis.
   From England they left for Germany; from there to China, to India, to Japan, to South America to see the Inca tribe, to North America in the beginning of the 1600s to see the famous Indian princess. They saw her a month before the white settlers came to the Chesapeake Bay, and Pocahontas herself had introduced the two to her father, Lily and James carrying offerings of pebbled jewels wrapped in corn husks for the elderly chief.
   The Indian princess herself had only just turned twelve, and she was still a girl, almost Cleopatra’s age. But even though it was over fifteen hundred years later, Lily could see a resemblance between the two princesses—the dark, deep, glowing eyes and her hair—it wasn’t the shade of the Egyptians’; it was black, so dark that when she stood in the sun it glistened a faint blue—but it had the same thickness and it was just as healthy, falling to the middle of her back.
   They left before the white settlers arrived; Lily had no wish to be mistaken for one of them and be thrown out of the village with spears—as yet they were welcomed, but when the settlers started to attack the tribe, they’d be considered as part of the group from the ship.
   They brought back husks of dried corn, pouches of yellow kernels of salt, a beaver cloak for James and a deerskin dress for Lily, two dozen eagle feathers, and four carved wooden spoons and bowls. An entire room on the galleon was devoted to gifts and souvenirs they were bringing back; Lily had even insisted on a couch from Turkey, a divan from Greece, and pillows from Egypt; a table inlaid with ivory from India and a palm-leaf fan an elderly man had made for them. Their horses were stabled below deck at night, but every day they were brought out onto the deck, where they would sit next to each other, holding their noses into the wind.
   James and Lily returned to their own time seven months after they had left it, and three days later they were galloping towards James’ parents’ mansion, laughing and talking. They had unanimously agreed not to give any warning of their coming, and they hadn’t wanted to Apparate; they wanted to ride.
   James was dressed in an English bliaut; brown with gold trimmings, it hung to his knees, which were encased in white. Lily, on the other hand, was dressed in a Japanese ritual kimono, red satin with gold and white flowers. Her hair was pulled up and piled on her head, bound with a red silk scarf.
   Talking animatedly of the surprise of his parents, they mounted the hill that hid the manor from view. James was laughing at something she had said, and then they looked down at the hollow. Both of them fell silent.
   James dismounted quickly, almost sliding off of the horse and not bothering to grab its reins. Instantly, Lily slid off of her own horse, landing next to him, and he instinctively put an arm out for her shoulder, which she offered him quickly, putting an arm around his waist.
   “Tell—me—“ he said, sounding terribly parched—“that you don’t see this.”
   Lily took the reins from his hand and looped them around a convenient tree branch, tying her horse’s reins to them. He took a few halting steps forward, then stopped.
   “Lily—“ he almost whined. “Lily!—“
   “Ssh,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, and his eyes started to blink quickly.
   “I—I don’t—I don’t believe it—“
   Lily let her eyes rove over the site. Where a pentagon of one of the most beautiful, elegant, and expensive houses had once stood, there now lay a pile of scattered grey rubble, with scorched masses of black in between, and some glints of smoked gold and scarlet. The lawns were completely gone; the fresh green grass had been replaced with dry dust. Statues had fallen over and broken; some had disintegrated. The swimming pool—one side had caved in, and there was hardly any water in it, and the sides and surface of the water were black and grey with smoke and dirt. There was one wall left of the Versailles wing, and it was dark and almost unrecognizable. The passageways covered with the crystal arches had crashed to the ground, and broken shards covered the ground for yards. Paintings, almost unrecognizable, had broken in half, and scorched trophies were flung where they had fallen. Tables were thrown onto their sides, the bindings of several books were all that was left of a once magnificent library, and pieces of cloth littered every major wreckage site. The plants and bushes and trees in the gardens were nothing but arid black stalks and twigs; no sign of the once beautiful and flourishing flowers remained.
   James stepped down the hill again, but Lily pulled him back quickly. “No.”
   “No?” He stared up at her, almost in shock. “No?”
   “The Ministry’ll know. I’m not having you go down there—God knows what you might find,” she whispered, tears threatening to escape. “Besides—they might know where your parents are—where they’re staying.”
   Numbly, he let himself be pulled back up the hill, and, forgetting for the moment about their horses, they Apparated the the Ministry of Magic.
   Neither of them waited for one of the pompous guards at the doors to let them in; they crashed through the swiveling entrance and, James leading, swept through a series of maze-like passageways that Lily had already lost herself in after five minutes, but James had almost grown up here. At a door with a plaque upon which was engraved Cornelius Fudge, Head of Accidental Magic Use and Misuse, James barreled through without knocking and stopped, breathless, in front of a pudgy man in a bowler hat, sitting at a desk.
   “Oh, Mr. James, what a pleasure, I’m sure—and this is your bride—how nice to see you—“ The man stopped to take of his glasses, but James interrupted.
   “Cornelius, what happened to my house?”
   “Er.” Cornelius Fudge started wiping his glasses nervously.   “Er—well, it was a terrible accident, I’m sure. We don’t know exactly how it happened—there must have been some crazy house-elves messing around with wands—but the whole place was burning at exactly the same time, as if five someones had started it on purpose—but this was around two in the morning, and—“
“Damn it,” James almost yelled, “what happened to my parents?”
   “Er,” Cornelius restated. “They—they—“
   Lily took James’ hand again, knowing ahead what the answer would be, as she had known ever since they set eyes on what had formerly been his home.
   “They’re dead, James. In the fire—we couldn’t get inside or extinguish anything—the only thing we could say for sure was that there was an humongous green skull with a snake coming out of its mouth against the sky—must have been an accidental spell, when an elf picked up a wand…”
   Swaying slightly, James turned around, walking towards the door in a daze. Lily followed him outside swiftly, and he banged the door behind them, sinking onto the floor against the corridor’s hallway.
   “Oh, God, Lily…”
   He buried his face in his hands, and she knelt down beside him quickly, taking his arms from around his knees and slipping hers underneath them, around his back, letting him cry into her shoulder. Crying hysterically, like a child, but with more intensity and more despair.
   “Lily…”
   Wiping away her own tears into his hair, falling at the memory of the beautiful, graceful, good-humoured lady with the violet eyes, she pulled him halfway onto her lap, not saying anything, simply crying along with him.
   “They’re dead, Lily! My mother—my father! Everything! They’re gone!” He took her by the shoulders and started shaking her almost violently. “They’re dead, damn it! Dead! Gone—oh, God, Lily, I’m sorry!” He caught her up in his arms and held onto her, hard, shaking, his head dropping onto his chest, crying, weeping, bawling...
   Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and her head spun around. She drew her breath in quickly.
   “Sirius!”
   He was crying, too. “I came in to deliver some forms next door to Fudge for a job…Lily, he’s already seen it?”
   She bowed her head over his again, soaking his hair. “What do you think?” she said harshly. “Of course he has.”
   Sirius knelt down to them. “Lily—this isn’t a moment to be practical-but where’ll you go now?”
   Lily looked around. “You’re right—this isn’t a moment to be crying—“ she shook heavily—“in the middle of a Ministry corridor.” She lifted James’ chin up slightly. “James—we’re going to my father’s house.”
   He almost stopped crying. “But—I thought you said—“
   “This isn’t about my not liking him—James, you can’t stay here. I’ve got to get you somewhere—somewhere else.”
   Completely dazed, he stood up, shaking his head as if that would clear it of his newly-gained knowledge, his eyes following her every movement blindly. Lily winced slightly of the weight of his hand upon hers, but she pulled herself together harshly.
   “Sirius—we’ve got our things arriving at his manor about now. Get them for me, please—but drop James at your place first—is Remus or someone there?”
   Sirius nodded. “He’s sharing a room with me, and he’s studying for a teacher’s certificate…We’ve been expecting this, to be honest.”
   Lily nodded. “Take him with you, please. I can’t trust my father with one of his tantrums—and James isn’t any condition to Apparate.”
   “Are you sure you are?” Sirus questioned, worried.
   “I’m sure,” she sighed. “I’ve got to be.”
   Sirius nodded. Sharply, he slipped a folder underneath the door next to Cornelius’ and put a steadying arm around James.
   “I’m taking you to stay with Remus for about thirty minutes—Lily’ll be there shortly.”
   “Lily—“ James groped for her hand. “Lil—“
   She kissed it quickly. “Go with Sirius.”
   Lily felt a sharp twitch at her heart at his tear-stained face nodding dumb agreement, and, her mind partly reverting to a normal state, Apparated to her father’s house after she watched them disappear out of sight around a corner in the corridor.
   She landed in front of the house, and Lily reached out with a shaking hand for the doorbell and pressed it twice. Numbed, she heard heavy footsteps march towards the door, fling back the bolt, and open it curiously.
   Her father started. “Lily?”
   She wasn’t looking her best, to put it nicely; the mass of red hair that she had bound up in the red silk scarf was falling down in bits and pieces; her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks and nose were pink, and streams of tears were visible on her face. Her robes were wrinkled at one shoulder and on her back, where James had clutched her tightly while he was crying. Immediately, she dried her eyes.
   “I need your help.”
   Looking concerned but somewhat suspicious, he ushered her into the house, staring distrustfully at the red silk kimono she was wearing. They moved into the living room, where her father pointed her to a chair and handed her a glass of ice water, sitting down on the sofa across from her.
   “Tell me what happened.”
   Lily couldn’t for a few minutes; she kept gulping down more of the ice and water till she’d hiccup crazily, and then her tears would start streaming again. She finally got somewhat of a control over herself back, and, hiccupping slightly every now and then, she succinctly told him what she needed.
   “I know I was terribly rude to you when I stormed out of the house, but I need to ask you something. I—James’ parents just died—they were in a fire. He was out of control—he’s broken down almost completely. His home is nothing more than ashes; we saw it when we rode to it to greet his parents. He’s got to have somewhere to stay—and I do, too. I want—I’d like to ask you if we could stay here, just till we find somewhere to stay.”
   Lily drew a deep breath and gazed at her father squarely, and was amused to see she could read the thoughts flashing across his mind. For all he knew, James had done something to her, and he’d have two wizards in the house if he said yes. On the other hand, this was his daughter, and nothing could really get around that.
   But there was one thought Lily hadn’t guessed. If he managed to make James appear in a bad enough light, there was a chance that she wouldn’t marry him after all—and then there was always Richard Walden, that rich young man he knew would marry Lily with a little prodding. He hadn’t any idea Lily was married to James—she hadn’t sent him any word or said so.
   “All right,” he sighed, “you two can stay here. He can have the guest room; I’ve just got to get your bed out of the attic.”
   Lily breathed a sigh of relief, fresh tears running down her face. “Thank—you—“
   “No matter. I’ll show you the rooms—we’ve taken some of your things and stored them in the attic, but otherwise…”
   They walked upstairs, and Lily nodded briefly when she pushed open the door to her room. It was an office now, but if one moved a desk aside, there would be room for the bed. She nodded.
   “Thanks, Dad—this’ll be just fine for us. I’ll Summon the bed down here; it’ll be easier for both of us.” She pulled out her wand and mumbled “Accio,” after moving the desk out of the way, and, seconds later she was prodding her bed into its old position.
   “We’ll be fine here,” she sighed. “Where’s Petunia?’
   “She should be coming home any minute now. She’s got a job at a bookstore,” her father rumbled conversationally, but then he froze.
   “We as in you and that wizard will be fine here?”
   Lily shot him a rather odd look. “I would expect so, yes.”
   “Er…” He hedged a bit. “I would have thought you’d prefer something in the area of separate rooms.”
   She was rather confused. “Dad—that’s not really necessary.”
   “I’d prefer for you to wait until you’re married to someone before you share a room. He’ll have the other one.”
   “Oh.” Lily’s face cleared, then darkened again. “You mean you don’t know?”
   “Know what, precisely?” Her father was starting to grow a bit more dangerous by the minute.
   “Er…Dad, I married James on the thirtieth of June.” She pulled up her left sleeve. “See ring?”
   His eyes widened at the sight of the expensive black and grey pearls set in the white-gold. After a few seconds, he shook himself, and he looked up at her, suddenly dangerous.
   “You—you married him without my consent?”
   “I did,” she stated, starting to get slightly nervous. It wasn’t like her at all to be afraid, but she was now—afraid of her father, of all people.
   He stepped towards her, and she sharply took a few steps backwards. “You dared to marry that wizarding trash against my direct orders!”
   “He is not trash!” Lily snapped in spite of herself.
   “Young lady,” he whispered perilously, “I would watch your mouth if I were you.” He stopped. “Have you regretted it?”
   “No,” she said firmly. “No.”
   His eyes narrowed. “You are to divorce him,” he ordered domineeringly, “without any further ado.”
   Lily’s eyes flew open. “What?” she gasped, shocked.
   “You are to divorce him,” he repeated, “instantly.”
   “No.” Against her will, her eyes grew pink, but she was regaining confidence—at least she knew where she stood. “I am not. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and I’m certainly not divorcing him—especially not when he’s just lost his parents,” she said logically. “He’d have a complete breakdown.”
   “I do not care about the state of his mind or body. You are, as I have expected you to for the past few years, to marry Richard Walden, and if you disobey me—“
   “Marry Richard?” Lily’s face started to grow hot. “I’m not standing for this! I’m not a child anymore, and you’re not controlling me! You’ve no right to make me divorce anyone—no right at all. Good Lord, I’m happy with James; can’t you understand that?” Hot tears were running down her face as her breast started to heave with shaking sobs that she tried to keep subdued. “I love him, you idealistic mercenary prat!”
   She had backed up to the wall by now, and she was supporting herself on a bookshelf, while her father’s eyes grew more narrow and precarious by the moment. The only thought that was whirling around in her mind was that she wasn’t letting her father win this one; everything else was blocked out, such as the safety of her wand.
   Mr. Evans recognized that, and he wasted no time taking advantage of it. Snatching at the dangling piece of wood, he endeavored to wrench it out of her fingers. He almost succeeded, but his quick movement startled her, and she grasped at it just as he did. Her pupils dilated as she realized what was going on, and she leaned backwards, trying to keep her wand from slipping out of her grip.
   They struggled for moments, but by no means in silence—her sobs and his bellowings of “Hand it to me!” shook the house. Lily sank to her knees, gripping onto the slim piece of wood for dear life—she knew he’d break it if he were ever in complete possession of it for only a few seconds. He was stooping over her, trying to pinch her fingers away, hitting her hands, her wrists, elbowing her arms heedlessly of anything else. He was mad, Lily thought, completely and utterly—he’d finally gone over the edge. She knew he’d never try anything like this if he were sane—he’d shout and yell, but never attack her—
   She heard the faint click of metal, but she couldn’t place it for the moment. Then her mind registered the sound of a key, and she started to scream as loudly as she could.
   “Please—help! Help, someone! Anyone, help me! Help!”
   She heard the person drop his or her keys and start tumbling up the stairs—she recognized the footsteps. Petunia.
   “Petunia, help!” she cried one last time before her father’s hand covered her mouth. He felt her grow weaker, and in a moment of triumph, reached for the wand.
   As he whisked it out of her fingers, however, one of her nails caught a splinter of the wood, and they cut a slit no larger than the width of about a dozen hairs away from the wand, but as her father’s hand caught it in his skin, he ripped part of the wood away from the wand. The inevitable happened—it started to malfunction badly. He’d touched the inner core of her wand, and that was mortally dangerous to anyone that did so, besides a trained wand-repairer. Lily’s eyes snapped open, and then she buried her head in her hands just in time to see Petunia throw open the door and the look of panic enter her father’s eyes as a blueish-gold mist enveloped him from the wand and started to dissolve into his skin.
   Both girls screamed shrilly as they heard a heavy thud, and Petunia didn’t stop—shrieking, screeching, it sounded to Lily like the end of the world.
   She didn’t even stop when James Apparated into the room—for all James mattered, she hadn’t noticed him at all.
   “Oh, my God! Lily, what have you done! You’ve killed him! You killer! You murderess—you slaughterer—you—you—“
   James paid no attention to her likewise; he knelt down next to Lily. He’d somehow sensed something wouldn’t go well, and he’d hurried to her—well, it hadn’t gone well. She leaned into his shoulder, crying uncontrollably as she kneaded her robes with his fists. He pulled her onto his knees, and she started sobbing into his shoulder.
   “I killed him! I killed him! I couldn’t—I didn’t mean—oh, God, I killed him! I—“
   James scooped her up in his arms; she was pounding his chest with her fists madly. He knew he’d have bruises there the next morning, but by now he didn’t care. He didn’t see Petunia screech one last time and fling herself out of the front door when he stepped towards the doorway of the bedroom; the only thing he was concentrating on was getting Lily somewhere—anywhere.
   He carried her inside the living room, where he pulled a packet of green powder, borrowed from Sirius, out of his robes. James set Lily down gently at his feet, pulled his own wand out, and conjured up a blueish fire in the fireplace, ignoring the pokers that were placed every which way inside the fireplace. He reached inside the packet, took a pinch, and shouted, “Adiumentum Circle 81,” watching grimly as the blue flames turned an acid shade of green.
   James slid an arm underneath Lily’s knees and another underneath her back, stepping into the fire quickly. He placed a protecting hand over her eyes just before the soot started whirling around him, and he buried his own head into her hair and the scarf that was tangled up in it as he clenched his own eyes shut tightly.
   They landed in a medium-sized, but well-furnished apartment, and for once in his life, James didn’t fall when he stepped out of the fireplace. The room was painted a warm goldenrod, and several plushy chairs were placed here and there, piled high with papers, books, dirty dishes, and the odd broomstick.
   James pushed a pile of books out of a sofa and set Lily on it, which wasn’t that easy to do; she was clutching his robes so tightly she was coming close to strangling him, and her nails were digging into her eyebrow, marking it inevitably. His face contracted, and he detached her nails from her face; she shuddered and buried her head in the sofa cushions.
   A step behind them made James look up.
   “Sirius!” he sighed in relief. “Bloody hell, I didn’t know what to do. She’s practically out of her mind—I think her father might have snapped and done something to her wand—it killed him, all right. Lily’s blaming herself for it, though, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave her alone.”
   Sirius nodded grimly. “You two go through too much. First her mom, then your parents, then her dad—“ He shook his head. “I’ll inform the Ministry. They’ll probably be at her house—they know that some sort of accidental magic was performed, I’m betting. I’ll meet them there and get them to send someone over.”
   James nodded, letting his head sink into Lily’s hair. “Thanks, Padfoot…don’t know what we’d do without you.”
   Sirius cast a last glance at the two, then Disapparated, and James let himself relax. He groaned in despair, hugging Lily, who was still sobbing brokenly.
   “What did we do to deserve this?” he moaned.
   Several hours later, Lily opened her eyes to see a blurry green image. She blinked a couple of times before the room around her came into focus, and then the first thing she noticed was the figure kneeling beside her.
   “James?” she whispered weakly. “What—what happened?”
   James sighed. “This is a Ministry-provided apartment. We’ve got permission to stay here for six months. Sirius managed it for us.”
   Lily shook her head. “No. Is—is—“
   He met her eyes and saw the question in them. Reluctantly, he answered.
   “Yes, he’s dead. They couldn’t do anything else; he was gone before we left, they said.”
    Lily turned over and buried her face in her pillows, letting the linen soak up her tears, and James wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
   “Lily—we’ll be okay. We will. I know we will. We’ve just got to give it time…” His own voice faded away, and he let his head sink into her hair, remembering his own parents.
   Two weeks later, their life had regained somewhat of a normal quality. The apartment they were staying in was in a building just next to the Ministry; it was about the size of Sirius’ and Remus’. A kitchen and living room combined into a whole, with a large window letting so much sunlight in that they didn’t need artificial light during the daytime.
   There was one bathroom and two bedrooms, but the couple had transformed one of the bedrooms into a library and souvenir collection room, using only the other. The bedroom was painted a pale green, with the curtains and the sheets and linens a dark green colour. The pillows were patterned dark green and ivory, though there weren’t too many of them; Lily had had to pull out some of the pillows from Turkey to make up for the difference.
   There had been a plain vanity table in the room, which they replaced with a beautifully decorated Egyptian mirror and a Grecian chair. Their bathroom was a permissible pale blue patterned wallpaper, with a nicely lighted mirror and white rugs—not first class, but then again, they weren’t paying rent for this apartment.
   The living room was a comfortable cornsilk pale gold, and two sofas and an armchair, a table, and a footstool made up the furniture in it, besides a bookshelf. They pulled out more pillows, stacking the couches almost to bursting with them, and they spent a pleasant day making curtains out of the silks from Japan they had brought home.
   Their closets were rammed to bursting with clothing, none of which belonged to this time period, and one room was almost useless, crammed as it was with cloth, furniture, tokens, coins, clothing that couldn’t fit into the closets, cushions, and many other things Lily could hardly count.
   Lily grew into the new way of life, though she’d break down into tears every time she remembered the family she looked forward to having, her new family. But often, she’d have to put every thought of herself aside and turn to James, who’d look into a mirror and spot his father’s hair, and then break down.
   Still, as they got used to the apartment, they quietly accepted it as their home. Lily started to enjoy herself—she was happy mornings, when she’d slip out of bed, throw on a kimono, and make her way towards the kitchen, where bread was rising in the oven. The sight of James’ eager, expectant face when he smelled breakfast was something that made her laugh as nothing else ever had, and by the time Eva and Frank dropped by their apartment a month after they returned, with excitement at her good news as yet unknown to Lily shining out of Eva’s ears, Lily finally began to hope that she was destined for a long, happy, life with her husband.
   James was sitting in bed with a headache and a nasty cough, and Lily was standing at the stove with boiling water in a pot for a hot water-bottle—it was the last week in January, and it had been snowing hard lately.   Whenever Lily looked out of their window in the living room, she could see heaps of white fluffy housetops when their curtains were drawn. She couldn’t see much of the city, to her delight; they were on the seventeenth floor of the apartment building, so she could see more sky than she would have in a house.
   Suddenly, in their fireplace, a small tornado of soot started to form, and, moments later, Eva fell out of the fireplace. She hadn’t seen her friend since the wedding, and Lily rushed towards her.
   “Eva—where’ve you been? I’ve missed you…” They hugged each other tightly, and Lily pushed her friend onto a couch.
   “Sit. Anything to drink—tea, coffee—I’ve got some very good Turkish coffee left over from this morning. It’s very good. And I made a cake when I was tired…have some?” She was rushing around the small kitchen like a maelstrom, sn atching plates and mugs out of cabinets and whisking napkins out. Eva laughed loudly.
   “No, that’s okay! I just…well, I actually came to say congratulations, and welcome back—and I’m sorry for what happened.”
   Lily sank onto a stool, almost letting go of a plate. “Thank you, I guess.”
   “So—what’re you two going to be doing now?”
   “I don’t know,” she shrugged, “but as soon as James is up to doing anything, we’re looking for a house. He’s got a cold and a headache,” she explained, “which is what the hot water’s for.”
   “Oh, he’s here?” Eva’s eyes lit up. “I want to see him, too!”
   Just at that minute, James’ voice drifted into the living room. “Lil, who’s that?”
   “It’s Eva,” Lily laughed. “We’ll be right in.”
   She poured some coffee into a mug and picked up the hot water bottle, turning off the stove. Eva, relieving her of the coffee, followed her into the bedroom.

Beyond Hogwarts: Chapter V

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