#lily002

Rounds were frequent for the Head Boy and Girl. Consistent patrolling for both of them, having to ensure safety in the school, rules were being upheld, and late walks alone. It was how it had happened last time, how they fell into some sort of stoop, where there was more talking and far less yelling. That he had listened, made her laugh. He could hear the ringing in his ears, that dawning on him: they could be friends. In the likelihood that hell had frozen over, that she was softening to a side of James that had always existed. Maybe not in so many ways. But he had stopped acting like a total arse, dismissed the ideals of arrogance to favour something more gentle.

It was where it aligned with him being offered the Head Boy position. He was doing his best, trying his hardest. He wanted to say it wasn’t going half-bad, but the opinion of James Potter in Lily Evans mind had been such a mess, fiddling with kids to idiot teenagers (more so him than her) and now… well, he wasn’t sure to pinpoint what he was. Entitlement had come easily to James at one point in his life, but now… Now that he was leaving school, preparing for a world that his parents had never entered. One that was dark.

What a twisted life it was to lead the ones they had.

Looking up to the empty staircase, as he stood in the Gryffindor Common Room. Mended pants from the other night, as the ghost of a smile lingered on his lips. While his mind racked to the other night, the girl who he had finally concluded wasn’t Florence still stuck on his mind. The memory was so vivid, James had to squeeze his eyes shut just to push it out.

—Flashback—

James stood, staring at the space that was now empty. Someone had been in here, kissed him—and

“What’re you doing?”

The familiar tone of—“What the fuck, Florence?” James snapped, wondering if it was some game to her. “Why’d you push me?”

But James, in the seconds of his accusations, saw the confused look on her face. “I didn’t.” She said, entering the closet, the light from his wand illuminating the space that had once been dark. “I just got here.”

James starred at her for a second, mind so muddled by the evening. Lily—this peculiar moment—as Florence wrapped her arms around his neck. “If you wanted it dirty, you didn’t need to roll around in the buckets first, love—“

—Flashback—

Any more in his mind, he might get stuck there, say the wrong thing to the wrong person. But no matter. Leaning against the back of the couch, she finally came into view. “Ready to go?” James ask, standing to full height.

Do you ever look at the same person twice? Marlene McKinnon had considered for a while, she was a void of emotion, some pit of despair hidden within a woman crying out, begging someone to save her. Asking the world to throw her a hand and say ‘hold on’. Someone to hold onto. At one time, her heart felt safest with Theo, but the intrusive fears of being discovered on one half of the couple had ended something good for Marlene. She couldn’t blame Theo. It was good. It was magic, an eye-opening experience. She didn’t lie for her attraction to both sexes was there. Theo was her first love, in many ways, and in many more, a very close friend. Someone who understood those inner workings of Marlene’s mind.

But it still stalled. She stared up at the ceiling of her four-poster bed. Gideon Prewett was supposed to be a good shag, and nothing more. Nothing more than a silly distraction from the weight of war, of classes, not that he could be something else. Not thatthat there was some ideal that—Marlene sat up. Gideon couldn’t be more than a good shag. End of. It went right against everything within her mind. Sitting heavy on her chest, adjusting the pillows in her bed, as she turned on the lamp with a wordless wave of her wand, pulling her Defense Against the Dark Arts book onto her lap. The door opened to the dormitory, only occupied by Marlene who was awake. Mary’s quick and slow stalls of slumber were soothing enough, and the Wench of Gryffindor, Florence, had walked out nearly twenty minutes ago.

Marlene watched in silence, for the first time. “Lily,” Marlene whispered, as the girl moved into the light, a happy daze almost settled on her eyes. “Lily.” Marlene said a bit louder, skeptical of the situation. She hadn’t seen her best friend look like that… well, ever. “Evans, would you snap out of it—“ But the redhead had sauntered off to the bathroom, light flashing. A grumble, pushing her own thoughts to the side, she tossed the sheets over her legs. Barefoot, padding the space, as she pulled on the small knob, entering the bathroom, as she spotted Lily. “Oi—“ that brogue Scottish accent broke through. “Have you gone a wee bit insane or just ignoring me for the time being?” Marlene asked, moving to lean against the counter. “Where’re you been?” Marlene was more curious than anything else. “And why do you look like you’ve smoked enough weed to choke a hippogriff?”

Petunia was sour at first, but then she had learned her company consisted of a muggle duke who was as disgusted with magic as she was and she quickly warmed to their company. The friendship between Petunia and Ted’s father was instantaneous and Ted was shocked to see how openly his father spoke with Petunia Evans as the two lamented all of the horrible things they had experienced in the castle thus far. Ted listened to them complain for what felt like hours, doodling on napkins with a pen he happened to have in his pocket to keep himself sane and his mouth shut. It turned out to be a dull evening after all but at least the two muggles were staying put. He couldn’t help the relief that flooded through him at the sight of Lily pushing her way through the crowd toward their table. “Hey! Having a fun evening?” He asked turning in his chair so he wouldn’t interrupt his father and Petunia in their lengthy discussion about the inconveniences of having a witch or wizard in your immediate family.

After getting Narcissa out of the chaos, Mary decided to apparate back to headquarters rather than re-enter the fray. Everyone in the Order knew to find her there if there was an injury of some sort, and she would serve them all better that way rather than stay to wreak havoc on the Black house -- she was fairly certain that between Marlene and Sirius, that job would be done well enough. Mary sat at a table, drumming her fingers on the surface, trying not to feel anxious as time wound on and no one appeared.

Mary knew that her friends needed to fight, and she would stand alongside them happily, but that didn’t stop her from worrying about them when they went out on a mission. Mary always particularly worried about Lily (which was ridiculous, really. She was an Auror, for Merlin’s sake, she was trained better than the rest of them for this kind of madness), but knew that her tendency to be a mother hen wasn’t welcome in times when Lily needed to maintain herself as the head of the Order. They had long ago come to the agreement that after a mission, Lily would let Mary check her over as soon as she was able, and Mary wouldn’t seek her out or fuss over her.

Thinking about the fact that they had even needed such an arrangement, Mary snorted to herself. Marlene was right - she kind of was a pain in the ass with her need to (s)mother everyone. Lily was stronger even than Mary, and the young witch knew that she needed to let her friends learn to stand on their own without her help and support. Mary was interrupted from her train of thoughts by the sound of a door opening and closing. “Lily?” 

"Watch it!” a painting scolded as James’ shoulder knocked against the ornate frame.

“Terribly sorry,” he whispered, moving right along. If one were to take a stroll down the third floor corridor at approximately 10:01 on Saturday night, they would’ve witnessed something most unusual. James Potter’s head floated along the rows of paintings, a carefully lit wand held against an odd piece of parchment. Luckily for the seventh year, no one was around to witness such a sight. Even if there were, he had nearly perfected the art of Sneaking. His numerous exploits into the subject had allowed him to improve exponentially.

He stalked through the castle, winding around stairwells and tricky doorknobs that he knew like the back of his own hand, all the while his mind completely absent. He could picture em, standing out their on the quidditch pitch, waiting for him. This, however, would be quite the miracle, seeing as the Lily Evans he knew would probably never end up showing. And he didn’t quite blame em. He had been vying for eir attention for years, hoping to Merlin that someday she might return his feelings.

He had known he was in love with her since second year, when she kicked him in the shin and he felt an overwhelming and incredibly odd sense of gratitude. It had been like that ever since, more or less. He tried his hardest to be in eir life, ey tried eir hardest to push him out. It was a painful game of tug of war and it was starting to give him rope burn. But that didn’t stop him from trying. He had finally shaken her down far enough to agree to actually sneak out with him, a sight he thought he’d sooner see of Minerva McGonagall. It was exhilarating.

The quidditch pitch was dark and vaguely damp when James removed his cloak to make sure he was seeing clearly. She wasn’t there. He sighed, let his shoulders slump, and figured he’d give it a minute as he discarded his things on the ground. He twirled his wand between nimble fingers, taking advantage of the darkness to test out a new charm he’d heard about. “Lumos Numerosa,” he said quickly, swishing his wand through the air. Orbs of light danced around him, fluctuating in size and brightness, lighting up the night around him. He smiled brightly despite himself, interacting with them softly. So what if she doesn’t show? James thought, I have my light orbs.