Butterfly Seasons Chapter Five - Bonfire Plans
Title: Butterfly Seasons
Author: Laliath (aka
dancinggoldfish/Irelynne/Anya)
Rating: T/M (language, thematic elements later on)
Timeframe: MWPP
Summary: Lily Evans is a prefect who happens to have a lot on her plate: her sister's getting married to a jerk, James Potter won't leave her alone, and there are way too many rumors going around. Just one of those would be bad enough, two would be hell, but three is unimaginable torture. Good thing she's capable of holding her own, and perhaps things will turn out to not be as bad as she thinks.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, objects, spells, places, etc. belong to JKR. I just happen to be playing in her sandbox.
Notes: Multi-chapter fic. I am no longer using a beta, in the interests of getting chapters up sooner. Thank you to those who volunteered to help.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12
Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | TBA
*~*~*~*
Lily loved Hogsmeade. Even though she had added prefect duties, she saw these weekends as opportunities to kick back and relax – something she’d been finding exceedingly difficult within the walls of Hogwarts. The village’s energy and shops made it feel like a vacation from reality.
And strolling down the street with one of her closest friends? Pretty damn good , even if he was giving her a hard time.
“How’s the grand experiment?” Frank asked as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his brown coat.
“It’s alright,” Lily allowed reluctantly. “It’s certainly different than before.”
“Has he dyed your hair blue yet?”
Her glare lacked malice as she knocked his shoulder with her own. “No need to give him ideas, Longbottom. He certainly comes up with enough on his own!”
Frank tossed off an insolent salute. “Yes, ma’am!”
“You’re barking mad, did you know that?”
“You remind me of the fact every day,” he replied, slinging an arm across her shoulder before changing the route of the conversation. “I’m surprised you’re not hanging out with him right now.”
She pulled back to look him in the eye, and his arm fell off her shoulders. “Just what is that supposed to mean, Frank Longbottom?”
He shrugged, his hands going back into his pockets. “Nothing sinister, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just mean that in the week and a half since I told you to play nice with Potter, you’ve been with him an awful lot.”
“You told me to be mates with him and that’s what I’m doing,” she replied defensively.
Frank wagged his finger at her. “Oh, no you don’t,” he told her. “I told you to apologize to him and convince him to keep helping you with Transfiguration. This is all you.”
“What difference does it make?” Lily asked, throwing her hands up in protest. “So I’m friends with James Potter. It’s hardly like I’m in love with him.”
He laughed. “No one is saying you are,” Lily. But you have to admit, it’s certainly fascinating to witness the end of one of the biggest and longest feuds Hogwarts has ever seen.”
“I’m sure everyone would think the Head Boy being turned into a pig is fascinating, too,” she retorted tartly.
His arm went around her shoulders again as his laughter turned into a full-blown guffaw. “It’s a good thing I’m not in love with you, Lily Evans. You’re hell on my ego.”
“Just the way you like it,” she teased.
He pinched her side. “For that, I’m dragging you into Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at the new Cleansweep Six.”
“You’re a pain in the arse, you know that?” she complained, but nevertheless she let him drag her inside the store. The jangle of the bell with the opening door was lost in the sudden swell of excited noise coming at her from inside, and in an instant she had to yell to be heard. “This place is packed!”
“I know! Isn’t it great?” he shouted back. He said something else, but his words were lost in the loud buzz, and then he disappeared, swallowed by all the people in the store.
The mood in the store was exhilaration, with the crowd jostling back and forth until Lily was pressed against a counter. But even though the feeling was palpable against her skin, she couldn’t get into the excitement; she didn’t understand what made the Cleansweep Six different from the Cleansweep Five or the Nimbus 1000, and quite frankly, she didn’t care about Quidditch enough to try and find out. She was happy when Gryffindor won its matches, of course, but she wasn’t one to obsess over the intricacies of whether England would make the playoffs if Ireland did one thing and England racked up so many points – it was all bollocks in her mind.
So instead, se fiddled with the tiny figurines of famous Quidditch players that were jumbled in a basket on the counter and tried not to be horribly bored.
“Yeah, I’d like to put the new Cleansweep on order.” The familiar voice on the other side of her drew her attention and she spun around. Potter was leaning over the counter, gesturing to the brooms and filling out an order form.
“Hey, Potter,” she greeted, leaning her hip against the counter.
Potter jumped and spun around. “Evans! What are you doing here?”
“Frank dragged me in here to look at the new Cleansweep Six and then the crowd swallowed him up,” she replied. “You?”
He looked suspiciously nonchalant as he shrugged. “Just browsing.”
She opened her mouth to comment on the obvious falsehood but at that moment Black, who had appeared at his shoulder seconds before the comment, exclaimed, “Bloody hell, man, you were jumping for joy about the new Cleansweep! You said you were going to put one on order!”
“Well, but, um –”
Lily hid a smile behind her hand as Potter stuttered over his excuses, and then she cut in, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there’s nothing wrong with Quidditch, you know.”
Potter’s expression changed to sheepish. “I know,” he said. “I just thought – well, never mind. Want to get out of here?”
Lily caught Black’s eyeroll behind Potter, and she deliberately grinned as widely as possible. “Sure. Let me find Frank and then we can leave.”
Potter reached out and grasped her sleeve, starting to pull her towards the door. “Don’t worry about Longbottom. He can take care of himself.”
“I know that, but –”
“Come on, Evans. Where’s your sense of adventure?” he cajoled.
“I must have forgotten to put it on my plate at breakfast,” she retorted as they got close to the door.
Black snorted. “As if that’s anything new.”
Instead of slugging him, which was her first reaction, Lily just tossed her hair, making sure to hit him in the face with the tail end of it. “Get over yourself, Black.” His hand snapped out and caught hold of her hair, pulling it with a sharp yank that brought tears to her eyes. “Ow!” she cried out. “Fuck, Black, that hurt.”
He just grinned at her, a quick flashing of teeth that was in no way friendly or kind. Lily looked away, biting her lip as she tried to blink away the moisture in her eyes. In the easiness of the day, she’d half forgotten the enmity that existed between her and Black, one that outshone her former relationship with Potter in both scope and degree.
“Lily, hold on for a second. I need to talk to Sirius.” Potter didn’t give her, and by the looks of it, Black, a choice as he dragged his friend off. She turned to watch them, the wide arm gestures, and the angry mutters as the two disagreed. Finally, Black shoved Potter’s shoulder, hard enough to push the lean black-haired boy backward a few steps, then left, calling loudly for Lupin and Pettigrew to wait up as the two left the Quidditch store.
“What was that all about?” Lily asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“Bloke stuff,” he replied noncommittally, effectively shutting down the issue. She didn’t press. “So what do you want to do now?” he asked at last.
“Well, I could drag you over to Gladrags to ooh and ahh over the latest fashions,” she teased. He took a step back, an exaggeratedly wide-eyed and frightened expression stealing over his face. “Relax, Potter,” she said with a grin. “I have more in my head than clothes, unlike McEnroy.” She nodded toward the brunette who was presently dragging two equally fashion-crazy friends into the store.
“Why don’t we do something safe like Honeydukes?” Potter suggested.
“Sounds good. Lead on!” She tensed as he slung an easy arm across her shoulder, but then forced to relax. Friends don’t freak out when friends touch them, she reminded himself.
*~*~*~*
For once, Lily arrived at the library before Potter, her furious strides eating up the distance away from the prefect meeting. She settled herself in, trying her best not to slam things around. She grimaced as her fingers got caught under a book against the table, and popped the offended appendages in her mouth.
“May I inquire what your fingers ever did you?”
She looked up to glare at Potter’s laughing eyes. “It’s not my fingers, it’s the stupid bloody bonfire.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“What’s not wrong with it?” she exclaimed. “The board of trustees is being a royal pain! We can’t hold it anywhere near the Forbidden Forest, which means we have to find another location, and we’re trying to hold it on All Hollow’s Eve, which is only a week away, and nothing works! Not Hogsmeade, not near the lake, Diggory is about to pitch a fit if we consider the Quidditch pitch – ”
“Not the Quidditch pitch!” Potter yelped in protest.
“Keep it down, will you? Getting kicked out of the library would be the perfect cap to my so far terrible day,” she hissed.
He whimpered. “But the Quidditch pitch – ”
“Oh, hush. You don’t actually play on the bloody pitch, you fly over it,” she snapped, cranky as hell.
He shook his head. “Oh, Lily, how naïve you are.”
She had been opening her notes, preparing to get down to work, but at his comment, she slowly raised her head and fixed him with an icy glare. “I beg your pardon?”
Perhaps Potter should have noted her mood. But he continued in the ignorant bliss that had tempered their relationship prior to the beginning of their friendship, an attitude that had gotten him slapped more than once. “Even if we don’t actually play on the pitch, its pristineness is required for the beauty of the game! How many games have you seen where the pitch is a wreck? We dive towards it, we fall on it, we walk it before a game. It’s not a playground for little children.”
“I’ve only seen the school games, Potter.” The last sentence caught her attention, and she demanded, “Little children?” The words nearly broke her teeth as she gritted them out.
It was only then that he realized how precarious his position was. “Well, the first years at least.”
She was no longer in the mood to be rational. “What’s wrong with first years?” she demanded.
He backpedaled even more. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong with them.”
“Well, then, what’s your problem with the Quidditch pitch?”
“Uh, well, you’re talking about burning stuff on it!”
“Oh, pish osh. Are we wizards or not? We can fix any damage that might be caused,” she retorted.
“But that’s disrespectful!”
“Towards what?” she demanded with a raised eyebrow.
“Quidditch!”
“Not everyone’s Quidditch-mad like – ” She was cut off as he pressed his hand over her mouth. “Mmf!”
“Shut up, Lily, okay? I don’t want to argue with you.”
Her fingers reached out, grasped a piece of skin on his bared arm, and yanked. He let go of her with a yelp, and she bared her teeth. “Go to hell, Potter.”
“Oh, come on, Lily, you’re being irrational,” he protested.
“I’m irrational?” she practically screeched the words.
Madam Pince was over there in a second. ‘Out!”
“I blame you,” she hissed as she gathered her books.
“You’re the one who screeched,” he retorted, a grin splitting his face as he held out a quill and a book.
She stared at him, then snatched the items out of his hands. “You incited me.”
“I incited you? Come off it, Lily. You needed someone to rip into, and I happened to be available,” he answered, ignoring Madam Pince’s repeated demands of “out!”
“That’s not true!”
“Oh, get off your high horse, Lily-flower.” She blinked at the juxtaposition of criticism and endearment, but he had already continued. “You were in a piss-poor mood when I sat down, and you are hardly sweetness and light right now, Ray of Sunshine?”
She blinked again. “Ray of Sunshine?”
He opened his eyes wide. “Do you not like it, my Titian-haired angel?”
She rolled her own eyes, refusing to allow herself to grin. “You sound utterly ridiculous, Potter.”
He flung an arm around her shoulders. “Nothing wrong with that in my book, green-eyed siren.”
Her anger and frustration had slipped away, leaving her with a hollow pit in her stomach and an irrepressible urge to laugh. “I’m not your angel or siren or flower or whatever poetic drivel you get into your head to call me next,” she said, trying to sound firm, and of course failing around aborted giggles.
“Very well, my sweet-tongued beauty,” he replied, his grin firmly in place.
“Potter!” Her laughter was strangled.
“My golden-hearted rainbow.” This time her laugh was full bellied, and his grin slipped into an easy smile. “Feeling better?” he finally asked, puling her tighter against him, her shoulders tucked under his arm, pressing her body full length against his.
“A little bit, thank you,” she said, smiling easily up at him.
“Always glad to help, my fiery-topped flower,” he replied. “So do you want to talk about it?”
She was about to refuse him, but then she looked up at him, at a bright-hearted, sweet talking boy who had helped her laugh away her anger. “What do you want to know?” she found herself asking.
“Anything and everything, O sweet-voiced beauty,” he answered, taking her hand and bowing extravagantly over it.
“Well, see, we’re trying to put on the bonfire, but no one can agree on anything and…”
*~*~*~*
“Hey, Evans.”
Lily froze on her way to Potions at the sound of the Head Girl’s voice. “What do you want?” she asked shortly as she turned around.
“Some respect would be nice, Evans,” Maloney said, frowning. Lily said nothing, just rolled her eyes. “I need to talk to you,” the Head Girl continued. “When are you free?”
“Not now obviously,” Lily retorted. “I have class.”
“Which one?” Maloney asked impatiently.
“Potions.”
“Alright.” The Head Girl took off down the hallway, then looked over her shoulder at the unmoving redhead and demanded, “Hurry up, Evans.”
With a foreboding feeling, Lily followed. It only increased when Maloney stuck her head in the classroom. “Professor Slughorn?”
Lily stuck her head around Maloney’s just in time to see the Potions professor move his rotund bulk from around the desk. “What can I do for you, Miss Maloney? Ah, Miss Evans, there you are.”
“I was wondering if I could borrow her for a little while,” the Head Girl said, wrapping her arm around Lily’s shoulders and preventing the redhead’s efforts to inch away. “She is indispensable to a project the Heads are working on. I know that she is an outstanding Potions student and will have only a little trouble catching up on the work she missed, especially under your excellent guidance.”
That sense of foreboding had turned into a fist clenching around Lily’s stomach with each of Maloney’s effusive compliments and she frowned. Professor Slughorn, on the other hand, smiled at Maloney’s compliments to one of his favored students. “Of course, Miss Maloney. Miss Evans, I expect to see you in my office tonight to catch up on your work.”
There was little Lily could do but agree. The words were barely out of her mouth when Maloney began tugging her down the hall towards the stairs. “So what was that all about, Maloney?” Lily asked, trying not to be irritated at the Head Girl’s highhandedness.
Maloney just fixed her with a glance and continued striding down the halls. She didn’t speak until they were situated in the Heads’ office, Lily taking a seat opposite the blonde’s desk. “There are two things I wish to discuss with you. First of all, it has come to my attention that three of the second years in your House are in danger of flunking out of Transfiguration. Explain to me what is being done to deal with the problem.”
Lily stuttered. She hadn’t heard of the problem before that very moment and so there was no way she could speak intelligently on what steps were being taken to fix it. So, instead, she went on the offensive. “This was the pressing matter that required me to miss Potions today?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest, leaning back in her chair, and raising her eyebrows in affected disbelief.
“Evans,” Maloney growled.
The redhead rolled her eyes, then forced herself to admit,” Um, I’m not really sure.”
The Head Girl frowned. “Have tutors been found for the three students?”
“I’m not sure.”
Maloney eyed her for a minute, then said, “Evans, trust me that I’m just saying this to help. We don’t need incompetent or lazy prefects at this time and quite frankly, you’ve been falling behind in your duties.”
Lily flushed at the reminder of Frank’s lecture and said softly, “I’m not incompetent or lazy. I was just,” she grasped for the word, “distracted. I’m getting back on track now, I promise.”
She received another one of those long, measuring looks that so many people seemed fond of giving her. “That’s what Longbottom says,” the Head Girl finally answered. “Talk to Lupin and the lower prefect, Elizabeth Cook. She’s been handling the situation, but we really need tutors. Any ideas?”
“I’m rubbish at Transfiguration. I’d probably bugger the poor kids up even worse than they already are. But I do know someone who might do it,” Lily said hesitantly.
“Who?”
“Potter.”
“Potter? As in James Potter? You actually think you can convince James Potter to tutor a bunch of second years?” Maloney said, once she’d recovered from her dropped jaw.
“We’re mates,” Lily said defensively.
“So the rumors are true!”
“What rumors?”
“Never mind that.” Maloney waved the matter away, doing nothing to assuage Lily’s concerns about Hogwarts’ gossip mill. “And he’s brilliant at Transfiguration,” she mused to herself before focusing back on the redhead. “Alright, ask him and arrange it. Keep me informed. Next thing. We’ve decided to hold the bonfire on the Quidditch pitch.” Lily winced as she thought of Potter’s unnatural attachment to the grassy field, and the Head Girl continued. “You’re in charge of decoration for the bonfire.”
“What? Me?” Lily couldn’t believe her ears.
“Are you deaf? Yes, you. Rosier will be working with you, and I expect you to keep him in line,” Maloney said, ignoring the redhead’s grimace. “I’ll give you a list of what sort of decorations Longbottom and I want. Feel free to be inventive within those guidelines.”
“Will Hagrid be available to help out?”
“Of course. Make sure there’s seating and some place for food. Any other questions?” Maloney asked impatiently.
“I don’t think so,” Lily said, just before she fled.
*~*~*~*
It wasn’t necessarily that she was avoiding Potter. She simply found herself with her hands full trying to get the Quidditch pitch ready for the bonfire in less than a week. Rosier wasn’t quite less than useless, but he certainly dragged her to the end of her rope in frustration. More than once, she asked Frank to come out and keep him in line. The Slytherin didn’t dare spout off anti-Muggle and anti-Muggleborn philosophy in the presence of the burly Head Boy.
But Frank was in Charms class at the moment, and Lily was alone on the Quidditch pitch with Rosier. She was trying to be friendly and polite – Frank’s words reverberating in her head notwithstanding, they did still have three days until the bonfire and she had no wish to deal with a pissed off Rosier. Unfortunately, it seemed like the Slytherin was itching for a fight.
“Do you think it will rain Friday night?” she asked as she brought wood planks together to create a structure where tables for food and drink would be.
“Why does that matter?” Rosier snarled. His pieces of wood crashed together like thunder as he built his part of the structure.
“If it rains, the bonfire will be a miserable failure.”
“It will be, with Muggle lovers and Mudbloods organizing it.”
“No one’s asking you to go,” she retorted, trying desperate to hold on to her temper. Rosier had the unfortunately ability of humiliating her when she was thinking with anger. Besides, she had promised Frank.
“No, they’re just ordering it and shoving the Muggle-loving agenda down our throats.”
“Go fuck yourself, Rosier. Or does Voldemort do that for you?” she shot back as her control over her temper snapped. He went for his wand, but she had a second’s headstart and had hers pointed straight at his head – at the spot between his eyes – before he got his past his elbow.
“I don’t work for Voldemort, you Mudblood bitch!” He didn’t make a move towards her, Lily was relieved to note. Her hand was slippery with sweat around her wand and her fingers were cramping, she was holding it so tightly.
“No, you just spout off his ideology like the mindless bastard that you are,” she snarled.
“Oh, like you don’t follow our fearless Headmaster’s without a thought of your own,” his lips curled in the self-assured manner of those who look down on all those around them.
“Professor Dumbledore’s a good man, a far better man than you could ever hope to be,” she spat, her fingers grasping her wand so tightly she was worried she might break it.
“Dumbledore is a tottering old fool whose senility passes for wisdom these days,” he shouted back.
“Um, Lily, is everything alright?”
She looked over to right to see Potter hovering above the ground on his broom. “What are you – oh, Quidditch practice,” she said, answering her own question. “How did it go?”
“It went alright. Do you need any help?” he asked, nodding towards Rosier.
“Not with him, but would you mind helping us with the decorations?” Lily said, making the decision quickly as she glanced between the two boys. “I’d appreciate the company.”
Potter didn’t answer verbally, just hopped off his broom and carefully lay it on the ground. “What do you need help with?”
Lily gave him the directions required and they quickly settled into a routine where he did most of the Transfiguration and she handled the Charms side of things. “Are you reconciled to the idea of holding the bonfire on the Quidditch pitch?” she finally asked, grinning up at him.
He didn’t answer for a moment, instead concentrating on finishing the spell required to turn planks of wood into a sturdy, freestanding structure that would have a tent cloth over it Friday night for the bonfire. “I can’t say that I like the idea very much, but I suppose I’ll have to live with it. I am looking forward to the bonfire itself.”
“I should hope so, given the amount of work I’ve been putting into my side of things,” Lily teased.
“I’ve noticed that you’ve been pretty busy. You’ve missed two of our study sessions,” Potter commented, his face bland.
She blushed. “It wasn’t as if I meant to. There’s a lot of work that still has to be done.”
He grinned at her. “Hopefully less, now that I’m helping out?”
“That is true.”
There was a snort from the other side of the structure. “Will you two lift the damned beam?” Rosier demanded exasperatedly.
Lily and Potter laughed, rolling their eyes, but they did as he asked good-naturedly.
*~*~*~*
Please leave reviews. They make me happy.
Author: Laliath (aka
dancinggoldfish/Irelynne/Anya)Rating: T/M (language, thematic elements later on)
Timeframe: MWPP
Summary: Lily Evans is a prefect who happens to have a lot on her plate: her sister's getting married to a jerk, James Potter won't leave her alone, and there are way too many rumors going around. Just one of those would be bad enough, two would be hell, but three is unimaginable torture. Good thing she's capable of holding her own, and perhaps things will turn out to not be as bad as she thinks.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, objects, spells, places, etc. belong to JKR. I just happen to be playing in her sandbox.
Notes: Multi-chapter fic. I am no longer using a beta, in the interests of getting chapters up sooner. Thank you to those who volunteered to help.
Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12
Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | TBA
*~*~*~*
Lily loved Hogsmeade. Even though she had added prefect duties, she saw these weekends as opportunities to kick back and relax – something she’d been finding exceedingly difficult within the walls of Hogwarts. The village’s energy and shops made it feel like a vacation from reality.
And strolling down the street with one of her closest friends? Pretty damn good , even if he was giving her a hard time.
“How’s the grand experiment?” Frank asked as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his brown coat.
“It’s alright,” Lily allowed reluctantly. “It’s certainly different than before.”
“Has he dyed your hair blue yet?”
Her glare lacked malice as she knocked his shoulder with her own. “No need to give him ideas, Longbottom. He certainly comes up with enough on his own!”
Frank tossed off an insolent salute. “Yes, ma’am!”
“You’re barking mad, did you know that?”
“You remind me of the fact every day,” he replied, slinging an arm across her shoulder before changing the route of the conversation. “I’m surprised you’re not hanging out with him right now.”
She pulled back to look him in the eye, and his arm fell off her shoulders. “Just what is that supposed to mean, Frank Longbottom?”
He shrugged, his hands going back into his pockets. “Nothing sinister, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just mean that in the week and a half since I told you to play nice with Potter, you’ve been with him an awful lot.”
“You told me to be mates with him and that’s what I’m doing,” she replied defensively.
Frank wagged his finger at her. “Oh, no you don’t,” he told her. “I told you to apologize to him and convince him to keep helping you with Transfiguration. This is all you.”
“What difference does it make?” Lily asked, throwing her hands up in protest. “So I’m friends with James Potter. It’s hardly like I’m in love with him.”
He laughed. “No one is saying you are,” Lily. But you have to admit, it’s certainly fascinating to witness the end of one of the biggest and longest feuds Hogwarts has ever seen.”
“I’m sure everyone would think the Head Boy being turned into a pig is fascinating, too,” she retorted tartly.
His arm went around her shoulders again as his laughter turned into a full-blown guffaw. “It’s a good thing I’m not in love with you, Lily Evans. You’re hell on my ego.”
“Just the way you like it,” she teased.
He pinched her side. “For that, I’m dragging you into Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at the new Cleansweep Six.”
“You’re a pain in the arse, you know that?” she complained, but nevertheless she let him drag her inside the store. The jangle of the bell with the opening door was lost in the sudden swell of excited noise coming at her from inside, and in an instant she had to yell to be heard. “This place is packed!”
“I know! Isn’t it great?” he shouted back. He said something else, but his words were lost in the loud buzz, and then he disappeared, swallowed by all the people in the store.
The mood in the store was exhilaration, with the crowd jostling back and forth until Lily was pressed against a counter. But even though the feeling was palpable against her skin, she couldn’t get into the excitement; she didn’t understand what made the Cleansweep Six different from the Cleansweep Five or the Nimbus 1000, and quite frankly, she didn’t care about Quidditch enough to try and find out. She was happy when Gryffindor won its matches, of course, but she wasn’t one to obsess over the intricacies of whether England would make the playoffs if Ireland did one thing and England racked up so many points – it was all bollocks in her mind.
So instead, se fiddled with the tiny figurines of famous Quidditch players that were jumbled in a basket on the counter and tried not to be horribly bored.
“Yeah, I’d like to put the new Cleansweep on order.” The familiar voice on the other side of her drew her attention and she spun around. Potter was leaning over the counter, gesturing to the brooms and filling out an order form.
“Hey, Potter,” she greeted, leaning her hip against the counter.
Potter jumped and spun around. “Evans! What are you doing here?”
“Frank dragged me in here to look at the new Cleansweep Six and then the crowd swallowed him up,” she replied. “You?”
He looked suspiciously nonchalant as he shrugged. “Just browsing.”
She opened her mouth to comment on the obvious falsehood but at that moment Black, who had appeared at his shoulder seconds before the comment, exclaimed, “Bloody hell, man, you were jumping for joy about the new Cleansweep! You said you were going to put one on order!”
“Well, but, um –”
Lily hid a smile behind her hand as Potter stuttered over his excuses, and then she cut in, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there’s nothing wrong with Quidditch, you know.”
Potter’s expression changed to sheepish. “I know,” he said. “I just thought – well, never mind. Want to get out of here?”
Lily caught Black’s eyeroll behind Potter, and she deliberately grinned as widely as possible. “Sure. Let me find Frank and then we can leave.”
Potter reached out and grasped her sleeve, starting to pull her towards the door. “Don’t worry about Longbottom. He can take care of himself.”
“I know that, but –”
“Come on, Evans. Where’s your sense of adventure?” he cajoled.
“I must have forgotten to put it on my plate at breakfast,” she retorted as they got close to the door.
Black snorted. “As if that’s anything new.”
Instead of slugging him, which was her first reaction, Lily just tossed her hair, making sure to hit him in the face with the tail end of it. “Get over yourself, Black.” His hand snapped out and caught hold of her hair, pulling it with a sharp yank that brought tears to her eyes. “Ow!” she cried out. “Fuck, Black, that hurt.”
He just grinned at her, a quick flashing of teeth that was in no way friendly or kind. Lily looked away, biting her lip as she tried to blink away the moisture in her eyes. In the easiness of the day, she’d half forgotten the enmity that existed between her and Black, one that outshone her former relationship with Potter in both scope and degree.
“Lily, hold on for a second. I need to talk to Sirius.” Potter didn’t give her, and by the looks of it, Black, a choice as he dragged his friend off. She turned to watch them, the wide arm gestures, and the angry mutters as the two disagreed. Finally, Black shoved Potter’s shoulder, hard enough to push the lean black-haired boy backward a few steps, then left, calling loudly for Lupin and Pettigrew to wait up as the two left the Quidditch store.
“What was that all about?” Lily asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“Bloke stuff,” he replied noncommittally, effectively shutting down the issue. She didn’t press. “So what do you want to do now?” he asked at last.
“Well, I could drag you over to Gladrags to ooh and ahh over the latest fashions,” she teased. He took a step back, an exaggeratedly wide-eyed and frightened expression stealing over his face. “Relax, Potter,” she said with a grin. “I have more in my head than clothes, unlike McEnroy.” She nodded toward the brunette who was presently dragging two equally fashion-crazy friends into the store.
“Why don’t we do something safe like Honeydukes?” Potter suggested.
“Sounds good. Lead on!” She tensed as he slung an easy arm across her shoulder, but then forced to relax. Friends don’t freak out when friends touch them, she reminded himself.
For once, Lily arrived at the library before Potter, her furious strides eating up the distance away from the prefect meeting. She settled herself in, trying her best not to slam things around. She grimaced as her fingers got caught under a book against the table, and popped the offended appendages in her mouth.
“May I inquire what your fingers ever did you?”
She looked up to glare at Potter’s laughing eyes. “It’s not my fingers, it’s the stupid bloody bonfire.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“What’s not wrong with it?” she exclaimed. “The board of trustees is being a royal pain! We can’t hold it anywhere near the Forbidden Forest, which means we have to find another location, and we’re trying to hold it on All Hollow’s Eve, which is only a week away, and nothing works! Not Hogsmeade, not near the lake, Diggory is about to pitch a fit if we consider the Quidditch pitch – ”
“Not the Quidditch pitch!” Potter yelped in protest.
“Keep it down, will you? Getting kicked out of the library would be the perfect cap to my so far terrible day,” she hissed.
He whimpered. “But the Quidditch pitch – ”
“Oh, hush. You don’t actually play on the bloody pitch, you fly over it,” she snapped, cranky as hell.
He shook his head. “Oh, Lily, how naïve you are.”
She had been opening her notes, preparing to get down to work, but at his comment, she slowly raised her head and fixed him with an icy glare. “I beg your pardon?”
Perhaps Potter should have noted her mood. But he continued in the ignorant bliss that had tempered their relationship prior to the beginning of their friendship, an attitude that had gotten him slapped more than once. “Even if we don’t actually play on the pitch, its pristineness is required for the beauty of the game! How many games have you seen where the pitch is a wreck? We dive towards it, we fall on it, we walk it before a game. It’s not a playground for little children.”
“I’ve only seen the school games, Potter.” The last sentence caught her attention, and she demanded, “Little children?” The words nearly broke her teeth as she gritted them out.
It was only then that he realized how precarious his position was. “Well, the first years at least.”
She was no longer in the mood to be rational. “What’s wrong with first years?” she demanded.
He backpedaled even more. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong with them.”
“Well, then, what’s your problem with the Quidditch pitch?”
“Uh, well, you’re talking about burning stuff on it!”
“Oh, pish osh. Are we wizards or not? We can fix any damage that might be caused,” she retorted.
“But that’s disrespectful!”
“Towards what?” she demanded with a raised eyebrow.
“Quidditch!”
“Not everyone’s Quidditch-mad like – ” She was cut off as he pressed his hand over her mouth. “Mmf!”
“Shut up, Lily, okay? I don’t want to argue with you.”
Her fingers reached out, grasped a piece of skin on his bared arm, and yanked. He let go of her with a yelp, and she bared her teeth. “Go to hell, Potter.”
“Oh, come on, Lily, you’re being irrational,” he protested.
“I’m irrational?” she practically screeched the words.
Madam Pince was over there in a second. ‘Out!”
“I blame you,” she hissed as she gathered her books.
“You’re the one who screeched,” he retorted, a grin splitting his face as he held out a quill and a book.
She stared at him, then snatched the items out of his hands. “You incited me.”
“I incited you? Come off it, Lily. You needed someone to rip into, and I happened to be available,” he answered, ignoring Madam Pince’s repeated demands of “out!”
“That’s not true!”
“Oh, get off your high horse, Lily-flower.” She blinked at the juxtaposition of criticism and endearment, but he had already continued. “You were in a piss-poor mood when I sat down, and you are hardly sweetness and light right now, Ray of Sunshine?”
She blinked again. “Ray of Sunshine?”
He opened his eyes wide. “Do you not like it, my Titian-haired angel?”
She rolled her own eyes, refusing to allow herself to grin. “You sound utterly ridiculous, Potter.”
He flung an arm around her shoulders. “Nothing wrong with that in my book, green-eyed siren.”
Her anger and frustration had slipped away, leaving her with a hollow pit in her stomach and an irrepressible urge to laugh. “I’m not your angel or siren or flower or whatever poetic drivel you get into your head to call me next,” she said, trying to sound firm, and of course failing around aborted giggles.
“Very well, my sweet-tongued beauty,” he replied, his grin firmly in place.
“Potter!” Her laughter was strangled.
“My golden-hearted rainbow.” This time her laugh was full bellied, and his grin slipped into an easy smile. “Feeling better?” he finally asked, puling her tighter against him, her shoulders tucked under his arm, pressing her body full length against his.
“A little bit, thank you,” she said, smiling easily up at him.
“Always glad to help, my fiery-topped flower,” he replied. “So do you want to talk about it?”
She was about to refuse him, but then she looked up at him, at a bright-hearted, sweet talking boy who had helped her laugh away her anger. “What do you want to know?” she found herself asking.
“Anything and everything, O sweet-voiced beauty,” he answered, taking her hand and bowing extravagantly over it.
“Well, see, we’re trying to put on the bonfire, but no one can agree on anything and…”
“Hey, Evans.”
Lily froze on her way to Potions at the sound of the Head Girl’s voice. “What do you want?” she asked shortly as she turned around.
“Some respect would be nice, Evans,” Maloney said, frowning. Lily said nothing, just rolled her eyes. “I need to talk to you,” the Head Girl continued. “When are you free?”
“Not now obviously,” Lily retorted. “I have class.”
“Which one?” Maloney asked impatiently.
“Potions.”
“Alright.” The Head Girl took off down the hallway, then looked over her shoulder at the unmoving redhead and demanded, “Hurry up, Evans.”
With a foreboding feeling, Lily followed. It only increased when Maloney stuck her head in the classroom. “Professor Slughorn?”
Lily stuck her head around Maloney’s just in time to see the Potions professor move his rotund bulk from around the desk. “What can I do for you, Miss Maloney? Ah, Miss Evans, there you are.”
“I was wondering if I could borrow her for a little while,” the Head Girl said, wrapping her arm around Lily’s shoulders and preventing the redhead’s efforts to inch away. “She is indispensable to a project the Heads are working on. I know that she is an outstanding Potions student and will have only a little trouble catching up on the work she missed, especially under your excellent guidance.”
That sense of foreboding had turned into a fist clenching around Lily’s stomach with each of Maloney’s effusive compliments and she frowned. Professor Slughorn, on the other hand, smiled at Maloney’s compliments to one of his favored students. “Of course, Miss Maloney. Miss Evans, I expect to see you in my office tonight to catch up on your work.”
There was little Lily could do but agree. The words were barely out of her mouth when Maloney began tugging her down the hall towards the stairs. “So what was that all about, Maloney?” Lily asked, trying not to be irritated at the Head Girl’s highhandedness.
Maloney just fixed her with a glance and continued striding down the halls. She didn’t speak until they were situated in the Heads’ office, Lily taking a seat opposite the blonde’s desk. “There are two things I wish to discuss with you. First of all, it has come to my attention that three of the second years in your House are in danger of flunking out of Transfiguration. Explain to me what is being done to deal with the problem.”
Lily stuttered. She hadn’t heard of the problem before that very moment and so there was no way she could speak intelligently on what steps were being taken to fix it. So, instead, she went on the offensive. “This was the pressing matter that required me to miss Potions today?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest, leaning back in her chair, and raising her eyebrows in affected disbelief.
“Evans,” Maloney growled.
The redhead rolled her eyes, then forced herself to admit,” Um, I’m not really sure.”
The Head Girl frowned. “Have tutors been found for the three students?”
“I’m not sure.”
Maloney eyed her for a minute, then said, “Evans, trust me that I’m just saying this to help. We don’t need incompetent or lazy prefects at this time and quite frankly, you’ve been falling behind in your duties.”
Lily flushed at the reminder of Frank’s lecture and said softly, “I’m not incompetent or lazy. I was just,” she grasped for the word, “distracted. I’m getting back on track now, I promise.”
She received another one of those long, measuring looks that so many people seemed fond of giving her. “That’s what Longbottom says,” the Head Girl finally answered. “Talk to Lupin and the lower prefect, Elizabeth Cook. She’s been handling the situation, but we really need tutors. Any ideas?”
“I’m rubbish at Transfiguration. I’d probably bugger the poor kids up even worse than they already are. But I do know someone who might do it,” Lily said hesitantly.
“Who?”
“Potter.”
“Potter? As in James Potter? You actually think you can convince James Potter to tutor a bunch of second years?” Maloney said, once she’d recovered from her dropped jaw.
“We’re mates,” Lily said defensively.
“So the rumors are true!”
“What rumors?”
“Never mind that.” Maloney waved the matter away, doing nothing to assuage Lily’s concerns about Hogwarts’ gossip mill. “And he’s brilliant at Transfiguration,” she mused to herself before focusing back on the redhead. “Alright, ask him and arrange it. Keep me informed. Next thing. We’ve decided to hold the bonfire on the Quidditch pitch.” Lily winced as she thought of Potter’s unnatural attachment to the grassy field, and the Head Girl continued. “You’re in charge of decoration for the bonfire.”
“What? Me?” Lily couldn’t believe her ears.
“Are you deaf? Yes, you. Rosier will be working with you, and I expect you to keep him in line,” Maloney said, ignoring the redhead’s grimace. “I’ll give you a list of what sort of decorations Longbottom and I want. Feel free to be inventive within those guidelines.”
“Will Hagrid be available to help out?”
“Of course. Make sure there’s seating and some place for food. Any other questions?” Maloney asked impatiently.
“I don’t think so,” Lily said, just before she fled.
It wasn’t necessarily that she was avoiding Potter. She simply found herself with her hands full trying to get the Quidditch pitch ready for the bonfire in less than a week. Rosier wasn’t quite less than useless, but he certainly dragged her to the end of her rope in frustration. More than once, she asked Frank to come out and keep him in line. The Slytherin didn’t dare spout off anti-Muggle and anti-Muggleborn philosophy in the presence of the burly Head Boy.
But Frank was in Charms class at the moment, and Lily was alone on the Quidditch pitch with Rosier. She was trying to be friendly and polite – Frank’s words reverberating in her head notwithstanding, they did still have three days until the bonfire and she had no wish to deal with a pissed off Rosier. Unfortunately, it seemed like the Slytherin was itching for a fight.
“Do you think it will rain Friday night?” she asked as she brought wood planks together to create a structure where tables for food and drink would be.
“Why does that matter?” Rosier snarled. His pieces of wood crashed together like thunder as he built his part of the structure.
“If it rains, the bonfire will be a miserable failure.”
“It will be, with Muggle lovers and Mudbloods organizing it.”
“No one’s asking you to go,” she retorted, trying desperate to hold on to her temper. Rosier had the unfortunately ability of humiliating her when she was thinking with anger. Besides, she had promised Frank.
“No, they’re just ordering it and shoving the Muggle-loving agenda down our throats.”
“Go fuck yourself, Rosier. Or does Voldemort do that for you?” she shot back as her control over her temper snapped. He went for his wand, but she had a second’s headstart and had hers pointed straight at his head – at the spot between his eyes – before he got his past his elbow.
“I don’t work for Voldemort, you Mudblood bitch!” He didn’t make a move towards her, Lily was relieved to note. Her hand was slippery with sweat around her wand and her fingers were cramping, she was holding it so tightly.
“No, you just spout off his ideology like the mindless bastard that you are,” she snarled.
“Oh, like you don’t follow our fearless Headmaster’s without a thought of your own,” his lips curled in the self-assured manner of those who look down on all those around them.
“Professor Dumbledore’s a good man, a far better man than you could ever hope to be,” she spat, her fingers grasping her wand so tightly she was worried she might break it.
“Dumbledore is a tottering old fool whose senility passes for wisdom these days,” he shouted back.
“Um, Lily, is everything alright?”
She looked over to right to see Potter hovering above the ground on his broom. “What are you – oh, Quidditch practice,” she said, answering her own question. “How did it go?”
“It went alright. Do you need any help?” he asked, nodding towards Rosier.
“Not with him, but would you mind helping us with the decorations?” Lily said, making the decision quickly as she glanced between the two boys. “I’d appreciate the company.”
Potter didn’t answer verbally, just hopped off his broom and carefully lay it on the ground. “What do you need help with?”
Lily gave him the directions required and they quickly settled into a routine where he did most of the Transfiguration and she handled the Charms side of things. “Are you reconciled to the idea of holding the bonfire on the Quidditch pitch?” she finally asked, grinning up at him.
He didn’t answer for a moment, instead concentrating on finishing the spell required to turn planks of wood into a sturdy, freestanding structure that would have a tent cloth over it Friday night for the bonfire. “I can’t say that I like the idea very much, but I suppose I’ll have to live with it. I am looking forward to the bonfire itself.”
“I should hope so, given the amount of work I’ve been putting into my side of things,” Lily teased.
“I’ve noticed that you’ve been pretty busy. You’ve missed two of our study sessions,” Potter commented, his face bland.
She blushed. “It wasn’t as if I meant to. There’s a lot of work that still has to be done.”
He grinned at her. “Hopefully less, now that I’m helping out?”
“That is true.”
There was a snort from the other side of the structure. “Will you two lift the damned beam?” Rosier demanded exasperatedly.
Lily and Potter laughed, rolling their eyes, but they did as he asked good-naturedly.
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