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Chapter Text

Lily thought she was holding up well. She doubted anyone who happened to glance over at her and Severus’ table in the muggle cafe would ever suspect that she had cried herself sick multiple times over Severus’ lost friendship. Wouldn’t suspect she had been so desperately lonely her entire sixth year that she accepted a series of increasingly awful dates just to have people to talk to.

Agreeing to meet Severus for lunch at all was probably a mistake. But Severus kept showing up to the apothecary when she was working, even when he wasn’t sent by Master Belby begging to speak to her… And okay, admittedly her main reason for finally agreeing was because she wanted to rub her own success in his face.

“How have you been lately?” Snape seemed to have excised all traces of their Black Country accent from his own speech and adopted what Lily called Wizard’s English. It was a strange accent. She had spent her entire first year trying to place it, although the answer was that it was obviously its own thing. At times, it sounded a bit Scottish, a bit Yorkshire, and had a sing-songy quality that occasionally came off a bit Welsh. At first, she thought it sounded a bit silly, especially when she was supposed to think those who had it the heaviest were the most posh (but that might actually say more about what the BBC convinced her posh sounded like than anything).

“I’m good. Master Bobbin just offered to take me on as an apprentice. I’ll be starting next week,” she said.

“An apprenticeship? How on earth did you manage that?” Severus said. He wasn’t wrong that it was shocking. It was exceedingly rare for a muggleborn to be offered an apprenticeship, especially straight out of school. And an apprenticeship for a muggleborn woman was practically unheard of. 

Her parents didn’t get it. They never doubted she would get an apprenticeship so long it was something she wanted (although it caused her dad to wonder aloud just what century they were in again, and her mum quietly despaired that Lily intended to have a career at all). 

“Master Bobbin said he was impressed with my NEWTs and the work I’ve done around his shop,” she said. Perhaps the more honest answer was: ‘I killed a man.’ Bobbin clearly thought helping her was some way to honor Professor Slughorn’s memory. (She could feel conflicted about that enough in her own time. Now she was supposed to be crowing over her accomplishment).

Severus looked confused, unnerved almost. Then his face fell as he arrived at a conclusion, “Lily,” he said in a conciliatory tone that raised her hackles. “I think you should be careful. Master Bobbin is known for hiring attractive shop girls… I wouldn’t want you to …” he trailed off meaningfully,  “get hurt.”

Lily bit back an incredulous laugh. Of course now people would start to worry about this sort of thing. “He’s giving me the opportunity as a tribute to Professor Slughorn,” she admitted. God, what a farce. “It seems no one can guilt a man better than the dead.” 

But she had a sinking feeling that was the reasonable conclusion, wasn’t it? Well, there went her sense of triumph. Now all she had left was her conflicted guilt and the realization that everyone would think she spread her legs to become a Potions Master. Fortunately for her, the truth of the matter was that Bobbin didn’t seem remotely interested in her, or even women generally.

She could tell her explanation hadn’t persuaded Severus and, going by his tortured expression, this wasn’t a matter where she could convince him otherwise. “If something happens you can reach out to me,” Severus offered.

Yeah, not in a million years. “What did you want from me, Severus?” she asked, feeling defeated.

He gave a shy smile, “Things have changed, Lily. I won’t have to stay apart from you.”

She closed her eyes. How many times have they had this conversation? What hoop had he cleared for his grandfather this time? It was funny that he always assumed that as soon as he could speak openly to her again, she would welcome him with open arms. Then again, it was probably her fault for sending mixed signals. She always eventually caved and agreed to meet with him. She always worried he truly needed her help, a way out, or something this time, and felt like she couldn’t just ignore him.

“Severus,” Lily sighed and motioned around the room, “we’re meeting secretly in a muggle cafe. Nothing’s changed. Nothing important, anyway.”

“No,” he denied, “It's in writing now I will inherit the Prince name and heirship. After my apprenticeship officially started, Grandfather signed a contract that said it would happen upon the completion of my Mastery within 3 years.”

“That’s nice,” she said emptily. Master Damocles Belby seemed like a decent sort. What with his notable work focused on ensuring potions were safe for squibs and inventing ones that could help treat lycanthropy. She didn’t want to think he could be bought off by Lord Prince to delay Severus’ mastery, but people had disappointed her before. “I’m happy for you.”

“Since it’s in writing he can’t rescind it. Master Belby and I set up a plan to finish in 2 years. Once I do, it’ll be over. I will have what is mine by rights and Grandfather won’t have any say in who I can be with.”

Lily blinked. That was new. His by rights? Did he really think becoming a member of the wizard aristocracy was something he was owed? Just because he shared special blood with a man he hadn’t met until he was sixteen? 

She realized they had never explicitly talked about why he did all of it. Lily assumed that Severus did what he thought necessary to carve out a future for himself in this inhospitable world, and had deemed their friendship an acceptable sacrifice. She resented him for the betrayal, but she could wrap her head around it.

“Shouldn’t it be your mother’s first? If it went ‘by rights,’” she asked. His mother, of course, had run away from her father (for good reason, apparently), given up magic, and wound up a drunk in a doomed marriage. His mother probably couldn’t take on the role, even if she wanted to. But Lily wanted–no, needed–to dissect what exactly Severus meant by that.

Severus’ face twisted, “Grandfather had the right to disinherit her. She made her choices. She didn’t need to give up her magic or marry a muggle,” he spat the word, “But I can’t help that my father was one, and I have proven myself to Grandfather.”

Lily felt a shiver of fear. But that was stupid, Severus wasn’t a danger to her. “Right. Like I can’t help who my parents are?” she prompted.

“Yes, it isn’t our fault,” Severus said. “And you’ve adapted, just like me.”

Something within her cracked. Since when did he think about her like this? When had he changed into a blood purist?

With sinking dread, she realized that maybe he hadn’t changed. Severus always lied to her about these things. Before she even got her Hogwarts letter, she asked him whether being muggleborn made a difference and he lied and said it didn’t. She always assumed it was an infuriatingly ill-conceived attempt to shield her from the harsh reality of how awful wizards could be, but maybe it truly always mattered to him too. 

She suddenly recalled how Severus once encouraged her to try to trace her lineage to see if she had any magical relatives. Lily was so enchanted with the idea of discovering some secret fairy-tale heritage or finding a mysterious magical aunt who could teach her spells and take her on broom rides that she didn’t think about why Severus was so invested in it. Was he just bargaining? Trying to find something redeeming amongst the mud?

She ought to yell at him, throw her tea in his face, or storm out. Instead, she sat there paralyzed.

Severus chose that moment to reach across the table and grab her hand. She stared blankly at their joined hands. “Lily, you are marvelous. I know it is cruel of me to ask you to wait for me any longer, but I–I am devoted to you.”

Her head swam as she yanked her hand from his grasp, “I don’t understand.”

“I-I… I love you, Lily.”

“No,” she shook her head. He couldn’t possibly. He didn’t even know who she was. He thought she was the perfect little muggleborn who happily shed anything muggle to mold herself into the shape this prejudiced society could tolerate. She could have explained that. Perhaps it would have been better if she did. But the person she once considered her only true friend was now one of the people she had to perform for. If she told him, revealed herself to be closer to the stereotype of the mudblood upstart, one day that knowledge could come back to bite her. 

“Please give us a chance, Lily.”

She needed to leave. Her sentences tripped over each other in her haste to get them out, “I don’t feel like that about you. I’ve never been waiting for you. You were the one who ripped our friendship apart.” Maybe there was something in there that would make him stop this.

“I know I hurt you. But all I did, I did for us,” Severus said.

“For us,” she echoed incredulously, “You told me you didn’t want to talk to ‘a muggleborn like me’ in front of half our year ‘for us ?’” No, she needed to stop entertaining the mad things that came out of his mouth. She knew now there would be nothing worth hearing. She stood, “I’m leaving.”

Severus stood and followed after her, “Just give me a chance!” People in the cafe turned to stare.

“No!” What was it Patty said she did to get rid of the really persistent blokes? “Look, I'm… I’m dating someone anyway,” Lily lied.

Severus’ face twisted, “We’ll see how long this one lasts.”

Oh my fucking God. Then, ignoring every instinct begging her not to dig this hole any deeper, she said, “You will see because this time it's serious!”

“It’s Bobbin, is it?”

Who was this man? “No! God, you’re horrible. Goodbye, Snape.”

Chapter Text

Lily’s efforts to avoid thinking about her and Severus’ failed friendship were made much easier when she got a letter back from Tom Riddle congratulating her NEWTs and offering to meet up to buy her a drink. They had sent letters back and forth since the disastrous Beltane soiree, but neither had broached the topic of seeing each other in person before.

Lily practically buzzed out of her skin as she waited for him at the muggle pub. Had she imagined that Riddle looked like That in the madness of that night? If he graduated back in the forties, surely he couldn’t still look that young.

“Miss Evans.”

She turned to look at him. Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t imagined it. “I–I told you to call me Lily,” she said.

He wore a navy Nehru jacket over a cream turtleneck sweater. With the color combination, it almost looked priestly. It was very fashionable but it was less in the Mod style than what he wore to the soiree. She immediately felt self-conscious about her bright green shift dress that was very Mod. That’s what she gets for trying to match someone’s style, she scolded herself.

“So long as you call me Tom,” he replied. “What would you like? Pick your poison.”

“Uh, have they got Harp Lager?” That’s what her dad and great uncle favored. She thought it was alright. Drinkable, which is more than what she could say about some others she tried.

Tom came back with their drinks. He got a Guinness, which was one of those on her list filed in the undrinkable column.

“What was it, 9 NEWTs? What all did you get on them?” Tom asked.

“I got 5 Os, 3 EEs, and 1 A. I didn’t fail any I took,” she said proudly.

“Congratulations.” Tom said. Then, “Was the A in Transfiguration?” he teased.

Why’d he have to go focus on her worst one? “No, I managed an EE in it. The A was for Defense.” She was almost pleased with that A. She had really been convinced she’d failed it.

“In Defense?” going by his tone it seemed like he found that surprising, almost offensive.

She bristled, “It doesn’t come as easily to me as some of the others and it's hard to revise for it on your own.” Great, now she’d gone and revealed herself to be a friendless loser.

“You know, I applied for the Defense post right after I graduated. And just earlier this year.”

“You should have gotten it. Both times,” Lily said immediately. Although she tried not to think too closely about an alternate timeline where he was her professor.

He laughed. “Thanks, but you don’t even know if I’m qualified,” Tom said.

She waved him off. “Well, you could hardly be worse than Professor Urquart. He wouldn’t let the boys and girls practice spells together in class,” she rolled her eyes. “There were only two other girls in my NEWTs class and they refused to work with a muggleborn. Urquart didn’t make them.” Lily’s grades tanked quickly after Severus ditched her. She was just lucky they had already revised everything on the OWLs.

“A sexist, pureblood supremacist,” Tom said flatly, then gave a dark laugh. “I’m so glad they found someone more qualified for the job. So glad my time was better spent at a pawn shop. You know, the second time I applied, Dumbledore sent me back a letter that was like ‘You and I both know you want this job, Tom,’” he gave a remarkably good impression of the man. 

“What on earth did he mean by that?”

“Buggered if I know. That my true intentions were secretly and deeply sinister. Like corrupting the youth or tenured employment.” Tom said. “So anyway, when I came to the castle for the soiree I cursed the Defense position.”

“You what?!”

“Cursed it. Whoever gets the job will have a rough go of it.”

She laughed even though she knew she shouldn’t, “Well, good job proving Dumbledore wrong about you.”

“If you would still like to improve in Defense I could–” he cut himself off, “Well, we could duel or practice together.”

They were on their second round of drinks when Lily remembered she sent her letter right before she got the offer, “I have more news! After my NEWTs came in, Master Bobbin offered me an apprenticeship. I mean, it’s not as focused as others I’ve heard about. I’ll still work the shop like normal three days a week, but he’ll mentor me on the other days!”

“ How? –I mean, congratulations. That’s very impressive.” It was almost what Severus said, but far less accusatory. “Or should I offer you my condolences instead? Bobbin did seem insufferable.” 

Lily hesitated because while Tom was the only one who could understand it, he was also the only one who could fully judge her. 

Tom continued, “Or should I be reserving the condolence flowers for his next of kin?” He gave her a faux concerned look, “You need to slow down, Lily.”

“Tom,” she hissed, scandalized. “No it's– The thing is, Master Bobbin has convinced himself that taking me on as an apprentice would be,” she took a breath, “honoring Professor Slughorn’s dying wish.”

A beat, then Tom started wheezing with laughter. “His dying wish?” 

“It’s not that funny,” she said.

“Is too!” he gasped from where he nearly doubled over in his chair. “Look at you, you’re smiling.”

She was. “Oh, shut up.”

He raised his pint in a toast but broke back out in snickers before he could take a drink from it. “That is absolutely phenomenal.”

“It is a bit funny,” she admitted. It was also kind of awful. “But, it’s just… I don’t want to live my whole life feeling like I’m beholden to Slughorn. Like no matter how far I get, I’ll owe it all to him.”

“You don’t owe him a thing. Slughorn dangled opportunities over your head, but at a price. You refused to pay it, offed him, and now you're taking advantage of his chum’s best intentions.”

“Well, now I’m not sure if you’re trying to paint me as some sort of swindler in this.”

“What I’m saying is well done.” He clinked his pint against her own. “It's a con I’m not entirely sure I could top.” 

“I don’t really want to be a con-artist, though.” Although better a con-artist than sleeping her way up. (Actually, that could be just another type of con, she supposed).

“Why not? That’s my fallback now I can’t be a professor,” Tom said.

“You’re telling me you’re a full-time con-artist?” she asked in a flat tone.

“Well, I’m mostly just coasting, living off the earnings I made from dealing in artifacts abroad.”

Lily pieced together things he’d said artifacts abroad, warding’s useful, his whole Albanian story. She leaned forward, “Tom, are you a ‘traveling cursebreaker?’” she asked in quiet delight. She had learned the term traveling cursebreaker was a polite euphemism for professional thief, and had been a little enthralled by the idea ever since. It sounded thrilling, like a storybook adventurer.

“I suppose you might call it that.”

"Can you tell me another story from your travels, then?"

Lily felt pretty tipsy as she finished off her second pint. The pub had turned significantly louder too.

“Have you ever had firewhisky?” Tom asked.

“What?”

“Ever–” he stood to lean closer to her. Her stomach swooped as he drew closer. “Ever had firewhisky?”

“No, I’ve heard a lot about it. Is it any good?”

“Its–” he made a face, “You’ll have to see for yourself.”

“You’re really selling me on it,” she said sarcastically. 

“Don’t have to. I’m buying.”

“I wouldn’t make an unemployed man buy all my drinks,” Lily said, affecting a haughty tone. 

“Well then. Firewhisky is an unmatched drink that wizards of all classes never shut up about. It will be available at nearly any party you attend and seems to be worked into any cocktail they make.”

“‘Unmatched’ seems suspiciously value-neutral. But I suppose when in Rome… The Leaky Cauldron then?”

“There’s a place I go in Hogsmeade, the Hog’s Head. Less likely to run into posh ones.”

They walked out of the pub and made their way to a discrete alley they could apparate out of. “Wait, have you apparated after drinking before?” Tom asked.

She thought about it, “No,” she had only walked to her work friends’ flat after drinking at the Leaky before. The only other times she’d gotten drunk had been with her family or at a dorm party where didn’t have to transport herself much of anywhere.

“Want to side-along?” he offered his arm.

Lily hesitated. You could leave half your body behind apparating. It seemed like such a frightful thing, to trust someone with that. Or maybe she just needed perspective. A quick trip to Saint Mungo’s would set an accidental amputation to rights faster than a bruise healed on its own. “Alright then,” she said, taking his arm.

He pulled them through that accursed vortex. She staggered the landing. “Oh my God. That was so much worse than apparating on my own.”

“Have you never side-alonged before?”

“Not like I had anyone to take me,” she said.

“I didn’t have anyone either, but the instructor took anyone who hadn’t gone before on a short hop.” Tom said, “How on earth did you manage it without knowing what it was supposed to be like?”

“Well the first time, there was a solid second there where I was half sure I’d killed myself in some sort of magical void. But the rest of my mind doubled down focusing on my Determination to get to my Destination… and well, whatever the third D of Apparition is. Worked out in the end, didn’t even splinch myself.”

Lily shivered as a gust of wind blew through. Unsurprisingly, it was colder up in Hogsmeade than it had been in London. The chill brought her attention back to what she was wearing. She hadn’t thought this through. While her dress was perfectly fine to go somewhere in the muggle world, it would probably scandalize wizards. Not only in that it decidedly muggle, but it showed rather a lot more arm and leg than what was normally acceptable. She didn’t even have much to work with to transfigure. Certainly not working blind in the dark without a mirror. 

“Uh, I’m not dressed to go to a wizard pub,” she confessed. Theoretically, she could conjure a handkerchief and attempt to transfigure it into something, a shawl at least (although a shawl wouldn’t make her outfit that much better suited). She also assumed neither of them wanted to stand around waiting for her to complete some arts and crafts. Maybe they should head back to the muggle side?

“Oh… right. Do you want my jacket?”

She blinked, “Uh, sure.”

Tom unbuttoned his jacket and pulled it off. She nearly told him to put his jacket straight back on. Christ, his turtleneck was only short sleeved leaving his entire forearms on display. He looked indecent like that. She felt like some sort of scandalized Victorian maiden. She took the jacket. It was still warm from his body heat. ‘Pull yourself together.’ She had taken her wand out to transfigure the jacket before she realized that was the sort of thing she ought to ask about first. “Do you mind if I transfigure it?”

“So long as you can turn it back,” Tom said, dryly.

“Right.” Now would be the time she fucked up a basic transfiguration. She decided to only shorten the sleeves and lengthen the body to about mid-calf length. She pulled it on.

It was strange being in Hogsmeade over the summer, and after dark too. The Hog’s Head was down a street she hadn’t gone on before. The pub looked to be in a bit of ill-repair from the outside, but then so did the Leaky. She revised her opinion after they went inside. If she thought the Leaky had a dodgy atmosphere, the Hog’s Head truly put it to shame.

“Too bad the Ministry doesn’t have a Health and Safety division for drinking establishments,” Lily muttered lowly to Tom.

Tom snickered. “What all five of them? You should write the ministry a letter, though. I’m sure some of the old families have sons in need of a cushy job in a superfluous Ministry department.”

“Superfluous you say?” she asked, looking pointedly around the grime covered room.

“Less so than some of the others,” Tom allowed.

They approached the bar, which was manned by an older man with scruffy gray hair who looked at his customers with loathing. Lily worked in customer service now, she could relate. 

“We'll take two shots of firewhisky, please,” she told the bartender. 

He poured the shots into grungy glasses, looking like he would’ve preferred to saw his own arm off than help them. 

She and Tom threw back their shots.

They say whisky burns on the way down. Firewhisky went down like molten metal. Lily clawed at her chest, sputtered and gasped for air. The aftertaste left her and her sinuses feeling like she had just huffed ground cinnamon. She dabbed at her face, hoping her involuntary tears hadn't smeared her makeup.

“How was it?” Tom grinned at her. Bastard.

She glared back, “I’m glad I always talked my dad out of drinking at the Leaky. A shot of that could’ve killed him.”

The bell for the door rang and a group of men came in. They looked decidedly unlike the regular crowd in their posh robes that probably cost more Galleons than Lily would ever have at once. They carried themselves with the air of the truly entitled, and seemed rowdy as if they were well on their way to drunk already.

Tom’s shoulders went tense, “Fuck,” muttered. Lily quietly started to get out the money to cover their tab.

“Merlin’s beard, is that Riddle?”

Tom turned slowly to face them, “Malfoy.” He had returned to a relaxed posture and his tone sounded bored. Lily would almost believe he was unaffected if not for the tension in his jaw.

The man who had called out to them looked perhaps the most richly dressed among them. He had long white-blond hair. She thought he did look rather like that young Malfoy kid who was about second year or so, although she wouldn’t know how closely they were related. She didn’t know wizards well enough to pick out who any of the others might be. Were these Tom’s peers? It seemed absurd. While they were all forty, these men looked it.

“And here I’d thought you’d died,” Malfoy said. “Wishful thinking, I suppose. I guess you're still around trying to bully yourself into places you don’t belong.”

“You're the one going out of his way to talk to me. What on earth brought you here? Overdrawn your allowance?”

Malfoy looked a touch flustered. Holy shit, had he actually? 

“I don’t answer to you,” Malfoy said. He seemed to notice Lily for the first time, “Looks like you found yourself a girl,” he sneered, “At least you’ve stopped trying to sully your betters. You two little mud–” Malfoy choked on the word. He kept choking.

As the seconds crawled by, his face turned from pale to red. The other men were shouting, “Riddle!” and “Riddle, stop it!”

“Stop what?” Tom asked placidly. “I don’t even have me wand out.”

Malfoy still couldn’t draw breath, his face purple. The other men looked panicked, their hands twitched toward their wands but they seemed reluctant to actually draw them. God, she would be useless if this turned into a full pub brawl. She only got an A on her Defense NEWT!

“To the Broomsticks, then? Tom?” Lily asked with forced levity. 

Tom blinked. “Yeah, let’s go,” Tom said. A beat, then Malfoy was taking in desperate gasps.

They quickly darted out of the Hog’s Head. Tom pulled out a cigarette and lit up. Lily’s heart was beating a mile a minute. “Er, should we actually head to the Three Broomsticks?” Lily asked.

“Give me a second,” he said, tone dark.

“Alright.” They walked on in silence for a minute. Lily’s heart returned to normal. Tom seemed to be collecting himself. She vastly preferred the silence to how Severus would snap at her after his classmates had a go at him, especially when she tried to step in. 

She wasn’t sure whether they were walking anywhere in particular. The path they followed cut into a hill and a short retaining wall rose up alongside it. Lily followed it up and walked balancing along its edge. When it was about two feet up, she stumbled and wobbled precariously and had to reach out to her magic to right herself. She decided the firewhisky had hit her and made this too precarious. She hopped down to the path. She had to jog a few steps to catch back up to Tom.

“Not sure what those arseholes were doing at the Hog’s Head. Making some new game of slumming it?” Tom seemed to have returned to decent spirits, “You know, at Hogwarts I could’ve just cursed them straight into the infirmary. But then we go and graduate and suddenly they call it assault and battery.”

That startled a laugh out of Lily, “Not sure you can call that sudden; it always was that. Hogwarts just didn’t care. Or figured it was character building, I suppose.”

“Yeah, real Law of the Jungle-like. It was fantastic.”

“Fantastic?” She said. “Oh, I’m sure it looked very nice if you worked your way to the top, but for everyone else it's miserable. And just so wrong. But I guess it’s not like it's all that different out here, just a different side to the same coin. But instead of curses they use the laws and rules their grandfathers’ grandfathers’ grandfathers set up. It’s not right.”

“You actually care about all that,” Tom said, head tilted like he was reevaluating. “You care about the little people and,” he gestured vaguely, “making the world a better place. Don’t you?”

“Of course,” Lily said. Was that some sort of trick question?

“Why did you do it, then? Kill Slughorn that is.” Lily’s breath stuttered at the direct question. Tom continued, “See if it was me–and I’d certainly thought about it, planned to get to it sooner or later– if it was me, it would be because he wronged me, plain and simple. So why?”

“Geoff Morrison,” Lily said immediately.

“Who?”

“A fifth year student. See, at first I didn’t know it wasn’t just me. Figured I shouldn’t try to ruin everyone else’s chances to find work through the club just because Slughorn made me uncomfortable. But Morrison made me realize that there were probably other students before me and would be ones after.”

“So it wasn’t for revenge at all?”

She thought about it, “Maybe a bit, if I’m being fully honest,” she admitted, “But it didn’t even occur to me before I saw the bigger picture.”

At that point Tom seemed to be leading them toward the Three Broomsticks. Well, it was that or they’d wound up demonstrating that Hogsmeade was only so big and you wind up on the main road eventually.

“How do you square it then? Murder with being all good and moral?”

For a minute, Lily floundered for a way to explain. She landed on–of all things–something she remembered from Sunday school, “Do you remember the story of the Good Samaritan?” Tom didn’t say anything for a moment, she turned to look at him. He had stopped walking. “Tom?”

He looked flabbergasted. “I’m familiar. But I’ll warn you I have absolutely no idea where you’re going with this.” He started walking again.

“Well there were those two blokes who passed the dying man before the Samaritan came and helped him. One was… a priest? Or something. Anyway, he was the one who was all like ‘Oh, no! I would help, but it would break these holy rules I need to follow, so it wouldn’t be right if I did.’“

“Uh, not sure I remember that part,” Tom said.

“Well, maybe my Sunday school teacher made it up.” Lily waved dismissively, “My point is, it’s like people use some rules as excuses for why they won’t do anything. Why things can never get better. Like ‘yes we all recognize this thing is wrong and someone ought to do something, but it couldn’t possibly be me who does it.’ Like, ‘Somebody ought to stop them from hexing muggleborn firsties but God–sorry, Merlin forbid I’m the one who is rude or offends them over it.” 

Lily continued, “So yeah. Killing is wrong, but Slughorn couldn’t be stopped any other way. He had to die, and even though people will say it's wrong, I decided I couldn’t be the type of person who just walks away. So I did it.”

Tom stared at her, shaking his head in disbelief, “I’m sure that Jesus bloke would be thrilled to know your main takeaway from his little story was,” Tom roughened his Cockney accent, “it’s alrigh’–no, it’s Good even–to get your hands dirty when someone needs a good killing.”

Lily flushed and hastily denied, “That’s not all I took away from it!” Tom just laughed. “I’m just trying to explain—I’m just saying some of the rules have to bend. Sometimes, that is,” Lily said.

“And here I thought ‘no killing’ was one of the 10 big ones.”

Lily regretted bringing religion into this. She blamed Tom and his stupid priestly Nehru jacket. “You know what? Just forget everything I said about the Good Samaritan.”

“Forget it? Lily, I would never,” Tom vowed, hand to his heart.

“Oh, shut up,” Lily said. 

He paused at the pub’s door. “Don’t you hate me?” Tom asked suddenly. “Since I didn’t do it?” he clarified at her frown. “More than two decades on from when I learned what Slughorn was like. If I had killed him then and there, then he couldn’t have hurt you.”

“No,” Lily denied, “It wasn’t your responsibility.”

Through his laughter, Tom asked, “Lily, then what are you even saying?"

And look, Lily wasn’t stupid. She could see the contradiction. She thought for a moment. “It wasn’t my responsibility,” she admitted, “But I took it on anyway.”

Tom huffed out a laugh and looked down with a wry smile, “Lily Evans, you are a goddamn delight.” He swung open the door and they entered the pub.

To her horror, Lily saw Severus Snape sitting at one of the tables. What were the odds? Christ, they should’ve just stayed at muggle pubs, wizarding Britain was far too small, and firewhisky far too disgusting for them to have made such a hash of the night for it.

Severus caught her eye, stood, and started cutting across the room toward them. Oh no.

Lily grasped Tom around the elbow and went on her toes to hastily whisper, “This is a date.”

“Oh?” Tom sounded amused.

“Lily,” Severus caught up to them.

“Ah.” Tom said flatly.

Chapter Text

“Lily, I’ve been looking for you,” Severus said quietly.

“You were… looking for me,” Lily repeated slowly. So running into him wasn’t an unfortunate coincidence. Severus had been, what? Lurking around wizarding pubs all week just in case she went on a date? You know, like a bona fide creep?

He looked her over, “Merlin, what are you wearing?”

“What do you want?” she said, refusing to entertain his question.

Severus glanced back over his shoulder around the pub, “Can we step outside?” 

Lily laughed at him–loud and rude–in sheer disbelief. Severus was following her around and ambushing her, but he was still afraid of people seeing them together. “Absolutely not. I don't want to talk to you right now, Severus,” she said, taking care in forming the words. 

“Lily, are you drunk?” Severus said.

“Are you?” Tom asked him.

“I don’t drink,” Severus said, sneering at Tom. And look, Lily knew that was a careful decision he made because of what drinking did to his parents, but did he have to sound like such a sanctimonious prick about it? 

“Oh? And here I was wondering what your excuse was,” Tom said, deceptively mild.

Severus glared at Tom before he pulled out his wand. Tom had put light pressure on Lily’s elbow, as if to convince her to move behind him. Lily stood her ground. Like she suspected, all Severus cast was, “Muffliato.” 

Lily ripped the ward straight back down, not bothering with the counter spell. “I’m not going to want to talk to you privately when I already said I didn’t want to talk now. Actually, I think–yeah, I don’t think I’ll want to talk to you ever again.”

“Who is he anyway?” Severus demanded. Had he even heard what Lily just said?

“Tom Riddle,” Lily said. “He’s…” she trailed off, finding it hard to put the lie to words.

“I’m Lily’s boyfriend,” Tom said before the pause went on too long. A jolt went through Lily. God, that sounded so weird to hear.

“Riddle,” Severus repeated with the tone and look she’d come to realize meant wizards were thumbing through their mental rolodex trying to find the name. Like with Evans, he would come up empty.

“Yeah, after my muggle father.”

Severus turned back to Lily, dismissing Tom. Arsehole. “Why are you doing all this, Lily?” He gestured expansively. “I’ve already said I was sorry.” 

“None of this is about you!,” Lily said (willfully ignoring how the whole fake dating thing was entirely to put him off). “But I’m telling you to piss off because,” she had an idea, “I don’t want to be friends with a blood purist like you,” she said in an echo of how he cut off their friendship.

Snape stared back at her uncomprehending. “What do you mean?” Severus said. He reached out a hand to her. “I’m not a–” Suddenly, he let out a short cry of pain and yanked his hand back, then cradling it like he’d touched a hot stove. “Lily,” he said, looking shocked. “Why would you–”

“Oh, that one was me, actually,” Tom said.

“Did you put her up to this?” Severus demanded, turning to him.

Lily cut in, “No. Unlike you I don’t end friendships just because some man told me to. And I only say it when I mean it. We’re done Snape.” 

Someone from one of the nearby tables let out a whistle. Their tablemates started snickering. Lily looked around and noticed how much of an audience they had attracted. 

Severus tilted his head forward so his hair obscured his face, but she could see the flush crawl up his neck. She hoped he’d feel at least a fraction of the humiliation and heartbreak she’d felt. Severus pushed past them and stormed out the door.

And that left Lily in the pub, arm linked with Tom. A Tom whom she’d just thoughtlessly conscripted to pose as her fake date, oh God. 

If he took this badly, this might wind up being the stupidest, most pointless thing she’d ever done. It might even beat out her not-date with Arthur Weasley in sixth year (the outing itself was annoying but not completely intolerable. The stupidity of it was not paying attention to who Molly Prewett’s latest fancy was. Her fairly cordial - if incredibly shallow - relationship with her roommates devolved into a cold war).

Why the hell had she done it? Who cared what Severus thought of her anymore? She certainly shouldn’t! But Lily did care what Tom thought of her. And making him pretend to be her boyfriend and back her up in a public row with my ex-best-friend seemed like a surefire way to make things awkward. 

She unhooked her arm from his. “I am so sorry. That was–” she couldn’t even come up with an excuse, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” At least he didn’t seem upset.

“I’ll buy you this round too!” she offered, “What would you like?”

As she waited for the bartender to fix their drinks, Lily promised herself she was going to be so incredibly normal when she sat back down. No more of her nonsense, just a nice, fun girl Tom would still want to be friends with. 

She carried the drinks to the table. “Cheers,” Tom said. “Say, what was that spell he cast?”

“Hmm? Oh, it's one he came up with at school so people couldn’t eavesdrop on us.”

“And how’d you take it down?”

“...Oh, just the counter,” she lied. People got weird about wandless magic, especially when she couldn’t identify what particular spell she used.

“Wandless and wordless?”

“Yeah. It’s really hard, though. So I can only do a few simple spells that way,” she claimed with insincere modesty. She’d found this was the best way to brush the questions off.

“Right.” Tom didn’t seem particularly convinced, but he didn’t press the topic. “Well if I’m going to be playing your boyfriend, I think you owe me some of the backstory.”

Lily flushed. “It was just a one time thing! We don’t have to keep pretending.” 

“And why were we pretending in the first place?”

“Well, I didn’t want to admit that I lied about dating someone or have him really think I was sleeping with Bobbin.” She realized that she probably ought to explain how she’d gotten to that point to begin with. “Earlier in the week I agreed to meet up with him. I wanted to show him that I was succeeding on my own,” that sounded a bit bad, “And to check if he’d finally come to his senses and was trying to escape his grandad or something. He wound up accusing me of sleeping with Bobbin to get the apprenticeship.” 

“Charming.”

“Right? Then, out of nowhere, he said he’s in love with me.”

“Out of nowhere? Oh, Lily,” he said, his tone almost pitying, his sincerity belied by his grin. “I could’ve told you that after seeing him for ten seconds at the party. After you didn’t give him the time of day, he stared longing after you like he fancied himself some sort of Byronic hero.”

“He did no–” Lily cut her instinctive denial short, realizing she honestly had no idea what Severus was like anymore.  “Ugh,” she wrinkled her nose. “He kept going on about how I should give him a chance–for what I’m not really sure, he’s still afraid of being seen with me. So, I pretended I was seeing someone already.” Actually, that was probably when the Bobbin thing came up. Oh well, she wasn’t going to backtrack to correct herself, it didn’t actually make what he said any better.

“But it doesn’t even make any sense! He’s a blood purist! And he seems to think I’m one too--or at least some sort of muggleborn who hates what I am. The person Severus thought I was–the person he thinks he’s in love with–is just some girl he made up! He thinks I’m ever so sorry for having the parents I’ve got, and oh so happy to get the chance to bow and scrape as I fold myself into whatever shape will best fit in. Probably thinks I’m like Minister Leach and that I think any muggleborn who can’t make it brought it on themself by being too foreign or uppity. ”

“When did you stop being friends?”

“Easter fifth year when his grandad crawled out the woodwork and started making demands if he wanted to be recognized as a Prince. I mean, I don’t think I’ve changed that much since then. I don’t know, maybe some of it was my fault for never having real conversations about things. Because, looking back, I feel like I had every clue in the world but I was just too thick to see it! Like he was trying to see if I could find some squib ancestor generations ago and I just thought ‘wouldn’t that be neat?’ Not like ‘Gee, it’s a little weird this bloke wants to go over my entire lineage with a fine-tooth comb.’” 

There was a momentary lull in the conversation where Lily started to worry she was being too whiny. “You know, I think my mum might have been a squib.” Tom said, “Not that it would make me better or worse or anything.”

“You think so? Didn’t she know?”

“Well, I’m sure she did. She died in childbirth so I never asked.”

Lily blanched, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Tom waved off her apology. “I was never attached, for obvious reasons. She went to the orphanage to give birth. So even if she survived, she probably would’ve given me up anyway. Nowadays, I realize it was probably her best option off a very short list of bad ones.”

“That’s awful.” Lily wasn’t entirely sure what else to say to that. “How’d you figure she might be a squib?”

Tom hesitated. “Could you put up that privacy ward?”

“Sure, not his though, since it's annoying.” She almost forgot to get out her wand. She had to go into her bag to get it. She cast her variation that made what they said sound indistinct rather than like a swarm of bees.

“Anyway my full name’s Tom Marvolo Riddle–”  Marvolo, that's a pretty awful one. Definitely sounded wizard though. “According to the orphanage, I’m apparently named after my father and my mum’s father. Turns out there were two families up in Yorkshire with those names and my mother’s family kept getting in trouble with the ministry for muggle baiting the Riddle family. And I have some other magical traits in common with the wizard one.”

“What sort of traits?”

“Are you familiar with what they call family gifts?” She shook her head. “Well, there are some traits that run in families. Like the Crouches with omniglots and Blacks with metamorphmagi.”

“Metamorphmagi?”

“It allows them to easily self-transfigure themselves.”

“That’s brilliant,” Lily said, quickly imagining different applications for it.

“Instead of one of those, I have this frankly kind of shitty inheritable magical talent that lets me talk to snakes.”

“Oh?” Lily said.

“It’s useless, really. Snakes hardly do anything and all they do is complain about being cold and hungry.”

“Wait, hold up. The snakes talk back?”

He looked at her, “Yes, they talk back. What did you think I was saying?”

“Like a princess?” she said, trying to wrap her head around it. Then hastily, before he got too offended, “Like er Cinderella from that animated film. She had these mice she talked to and she got them to make her ballroom dress. Actually, wasn't that the fairy godmother?” She couldn’t remember. “The mice definitely made her a dress at some point.”

“Now I feel like you’re just trying to make me jealous. Talking to mice sounds far more useful. Could’ve set up a little mouse sweatshop.”

“A sweatshop? she laughed. “Tom, that’s terrible.”

“Snakes are useless. They don’t even have arms, Lily.”

She laughed. “So that’s why Slytherins iconography is all snakes. Wait, could Gryffindor talk to cats?”

“What? No.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. Someone being able to talk to her cat would’ve been neat. 

“What I’m saying is—what was I saying? What I’m saying is I’m the son of a maybe-squib from an old family that fancied themselves the Heir of Slytherin and his alleged pureblood supremacy and world purging plans.”

Lily grimaced. “Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have associated myself with that heritage either.”

Tom paused. “Well, I’m running a bit of a con where I pretend to buy into the whole thing.”

Lily wasn’t thrilled with the idea of him even pretending to believe in any of it. Although she supposed it was better if he conned them than people who were already screwed over in this world. “What, like the Spanish Prisoner con?” Lily asked. 

“What’s that?”

Lily put on her most outrageous interpretation of a posh wizard’s accent, “‘My dear father is the Heir of Slytherin and he is being held against his will by his creditors in–some place so prestigious and foreign you wouldn’t have even heard of.” Her accent had started sounding a bit French, she tried to pull it back around. “You want proof of my ancestry? Ahem, ‘hiss slither hiss hiss.’”

Tom shook with silent laughter.

“What? Oh of course my father and I will be purging our great wizarding world from the filthy muggleborns ‘round about uh… presently. But first–and this part’s important–you must send me 10,000 Galleons.”

“See, you get it!” he laughed, “Don’t short-change me. Ask for at least 15.”

She broke down into laughter too. She still didn’t really like him actually doing it. “But at the end, you steal all their money and prove them wrong, right?” she asked hopefully.

‘Well, I’ll take their money but I think the latter would be as unwise as it is impossible,” Tom said. “If I do some big reveal, it would be as good as turning myself in to the aurors. As for proving them wrong, the thing about it–as I’m sure you’ve run into–blood supremacy isn’t reasonable. It’s not a rational position. They’ll never really listen to you argue against it, even if you had all the evidence in the world. I was top of my class, every class, all seven years, but they’d still mutter under their breath about what a stupid, untalented mudblood I was. It wasn’t oh Riddle doesn’t match up with what I’ve heard about muggleborns, time to go reevaluate my entire ideology.”

She didn’t fully agree. She thought people could change, that they could realize what their families taught them was wrong and come around. But she supposed that was mostly true for a lot of the worst supremacists.

“I can apparate you back,” Tom said.

He’d had more to drink than her. “I like my limbs attached, thanks.”

“I mean your parents’ place isn’t hooked up to the floo, is it?”

“No.” She then had a terrible idea, but who was the Knight Bus for if not the drunk and stranded? And what better revenge was out there for the firewhisky? “Have you ever taken the Knight Bus? Knight with a K, it's enchanted.” 

“I haven’t.”

She couldn’t help the grin that split her face. Tom looked appropriately wary. “We should take it! I think it's 3 sickles a ride. They say they can get you from Falmouth to Inverness within the hour.”

He frowned, “How the hell–?”

“I don’t rightly know! Don’t you want to see for yourself, huh? It’s a truly unmatched mode of transport.”

“I already regret it, but alright then, let’s take the Knight Bus.”

“Well it’s past midnight, so I think it’ll be the Night Knight now.”

Tom’s face quickly cycled through several expressions, landing at resignation. “The Night-Night then.”

“Hmm not sure I heard you pronounce the silent ‘K’ on the second one there,” she said as she took out her wand to hail the bus.”

Lily flinched as the violently purple, triple-decker bus appeared with a deafening BANG.

“Jesus,” Tom said, stumbling back.

A middle-aged man with thick horn-rimmed glasses opened the bus door, “ ‘Lo, good evening. Welcome to the Knight Bus. Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Only stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. I’m Ernie Prang, your conductor this evening. Where are we headed?”

“Cokeworth, me. Tom?” She didn’t know exactly how they divined the directions for the bus. The first time she rode it with Severus she tried to explain how near it was to Birmingham by cardinal directions and street names until Mr. Prang cut her off. It took you where you needed to go. Somehow. 

“London, The Leaky Cauldron.” 

“Three sickles apiece.” 

They paid their fare and boarded the bus. Once on, Lily stopped so abruptly Tom ran into her. The seats had all been replaced with beds. That, combined wooden paneling and the candle lighting gave the bus a rather… suggestive air.

“Where are the armchairs?” she asked, tone pitching up in her panic.

“It’s past midnight, innit?” said Prang.

“This is the Night Knight after all, Lily,” Tom drawled. 

God, how had he turned this around on her already? 

“I see how it is,” he continued, teasing, “I was wondering why you were twisting my arm to get me on the bus. Trying to get me in bed, Miss Evans?” 

Lily’s face felt like it was on fire. “Shut up.”

“The beds are for sleeping only.” Prang said, “No funny business.” 

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Prang. We get it,” she said, dearly wishing she could say ‘Shut the fuck up, Ernie.’

They started over to the beds. She should get her own, right? Or was it weirder to make a big deal out of it? Although, it was clear both of them were well aware of the possible suggestive interpretation.

Tom plopped himself down on one of the beds and looked expectantly at her, amused and waiting for her to decide where to sit. Lily took slow, begrudging steps toward him. Slowing more the nearer she got. Maybe she should just sit on another bed.

The Knight Bus waited for no woman. With another bang, the bus took off through whatever space it travels, launching Lily straight forward toward Tom.

Lily had this trick, see. Ever since she was little she would jump off trees, swings, once–memorably–the roof (her mum nearly lost her head then). She could slow her fall and basically float down. It worked when she tripped too. She can’t remember ever falling hard enough to scrape her knee. It was all well and good to catch herself falling to the ground, but the trick did not seem to work well when being launched from stationary to high speed, through whatever dubious physics the bus followed. 

The result was Lily rammed into Tom like a high speed projectile, her shoulders jarring painfully where they collided. Tom reached out and clasped her by the arms. The bus jolted to the side and Lily spun out wildly. Instead of floating down slowly, Lily bounced about suspended nearly horizontal to the floor. It reminded her of flying on a broom in the worst ways. (No matter how cool in concept, the reality of it went against her every instinct, and she had to constantly suppress the urge to fight the broom to stabilize herself). 

Wait, no it wasn’t just the bus doing weird physics, Tom was doing something. “Let go!” she said. He loosened his hold until Lily caught his forearms back in a vice grip. 

“Not physically! Just whatever you're doing with your magic.”

The magic she’d been fighting let up and she was able to float herself down until she was seated next to him. “Oh God, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” She rubbed at her shoulders where they’d rammed into him, already feeling the forming bruises. 

Tom stared at her looking gobsmacked. “Did you just fly?” he asked. 

“No!” 

“Then what was that?” The bus took a sharp turn and Tom had to catch himself on his arms to avoid tipping over.

“Well… it's more floating really. Never figured out how to go up.”

“Is flying one of those little spells that are oh so hard to do wandlessly?”

“Okay, I might’ve fibbed a bit about that.”

“I gathered,” Tom said.

“Please don’t be weird about it,” she said.

“Me? Why would I be weird about it?

“I don’t know! People seem to really hate wandless magic for all they say it's great. They seem to think it's different when like Dumbledore’s doing it or someone else old and powerful.”

“Yeah, because they’re idiots,” he said. “You’ve seen me do wandless magic tonight.” Oh, right she had.

The bus gave another sharp turn. Lily had figured out how to adjust to stabilize herself with her magic, but Tom tipped backwards and to the side, catching himself from landing on his back by his forearms, “Fucking hell.” The end result was Tom kind of looking like he was lounging out on a bed, holding her gaze. Lily quickly averted her eyes, once again uncomfortably aware of the whole bed situation.

Eventually, they reached Cokeworth. “Well, this is my stop. Good old Cokeworth.” She turned to look at Tom, “Alright then.”

“Right,” he stared back at her.

“Bye.”

“I’ll see you.” 

“... Are you getting off here, Miss?” Prang asked.

She blinked. “Yes! Sorry, Mr. Prang! Thanks for the ride.” She hurried toward the door. “See you soon,” she said, looking back at Tom. 

She didn’t realize until she got home that she’d run off still wearing his jacket.

Chapter Text

Lily’s shift at the apothecary didn’t start until 8:00 a.m., but she had to wake up at an ungodly hour to catch the bus to Birmingham to keep up the elaborate pretense that she was working for a chemist in the city. She supposed it was sweet that her parents wanted to brag about her, even if they had to lie about parts of it, but it was hard to remember to be charitable getting up before the sun day after day. The pretense didn’t end with the bus ride. Lily had to dress for work twice. Once in what she assumed a muggle working at a chemist would wear and again into her work robes once she apparated to Diagon. She was hoping to pretend to scale back her hours at the chemist and just pretend to be a shut in on the other days.

Lily had to carefully maneuver around the furniture in the sewing room/guest bedroom to get ready. Two weeks prior, Lily had fully moved into the cramped room. And although she was living out of her trunk and had to cede use of it whenever her mum needed the sewing machine, it was still preferable to sharing her old bedroom with Petunia. (She wasn’t sure if her mum had finally realized that shoving the two of them together wouldn’t force them to work things out or if she was just planning a new route of attack. Or maybe Dad put his foot down after all the pre-dawn shouting).

She nearly tripped over Chester who had sprawled out from where he must have been pressed up against the door. “I’m sorry, boy.” She reached down to pick the cat up. Chester curled himself deeper into her arms and purred. She decided she ought to keep her door cracked open so he could come in to cuddle at night. While Chester had started out as the family’s cat, he was more just Lily’s nowadays. Her parents let her bring Chester along to Hogwarts. Which was… well, Lily can understand why Petunia was so mad about that one. She carried him downstairs, at which point he leapt out of her arms and ran off into the living room, leaving Lily feeling a bit like she’d been conned into acting as the lazy boy's chauffeur. She banished the fur that stuck to her clothes.

“Morning,” she greeted her parents. 

“Good morning, love.” Her mum, Rosemary, started dishing out a plate for her. Pete Evans sat in his chair, arms crossed and his eyes closed, looking half asleep (but he would notice if you tried to change the radio station).

“Can I have some more money for the bus? I’ve run out of tickets.” Even though she had a job, sometimes it felt like she was only being paid in monopoly money. Most of her life still was in the muggle world where things cost real money–pounds sterling, that is. So she just got money from her parents when she needed it. (The exchange fees for people without Gringotts accounts were downright extortionate. Although, a benefit of the wizarding world she’d eventually be able to open an account in her own right, once she saved up). 

Her mum set the plate down in front of Lily, dried her hands on her apron, and went and fetched a coin pouch for her. “Yesterday evening, Petunia mentioned that Vernon would like to take us all out to treat us to dinner on Sunday. Are you busy?” he mum asked.

Thank God Lily was. “Oh no, I already have plans. With Miriam and Patty,” she added. Her mum was ecstatic when Lily finally found girl friends among her coworkers. “And we haven’t all been off work at the same time in ages.”

“Well, it was rather late notice for them to only ask us yesterday,” her mum allowed. Lily breathed a sigh of relief.

“Can’t we all take a raincheck on Sunday?” her dad muttered, eyes half opening.

“Oh, be nice,” her mum scolded. “He makes Petunia happy. And it’s a little late for your doubts, don’t you think?” her mum said pointedly.

Lily didn’t understand until–oh no, no, no . Please tell her that didn’t mean Vernon had asked permission to ask Petunia to marry him. He was a dreadful man. No matter her faults, Lily firmly believed Petunia could do better. “Is it a really important dinner?” she asked in dread.

“Shouldn’t be,” her dad said.

“No, no. Not yet,” her mum said. “Now, don’t go saying anything to your sister either!”

“I promise I won’t.” Lily didn't need to play with fire.

Lily finished up her breakfast and needed to leave right away unless she wanted to run to the bus stop. She pulled out her wand and performed a copying spell on the newspaper. With the long bus trips, Lily had started reading the paper for something to pass the time. She had never been so well informed about the contemporary world.

“Not at the table, Lily,” her mum said.

“Sorry,” Lily replied. What does she expect Lily to do? Slide the paper out from under her dad’s arm and run off to the other room to copy it?

“Don’t forget your lunch,” her mum said.

“Ta,” Lily grabbed the lunch pail. “See you later!”

It was just her and Miriam Jones working the shop that day. Miriam was the younger half-sister of Master Bobbin’s wife Lowrie (although Miriam said they didn’t have much of a traditional marriage and only really wed so they could get on their own things without their families trying to marry them off to anybody else). Miriam wouldn’t have been able to guess the relation as the sisters bore only the slightest resemblance to each other. Lowrie was tall and curvy where Miriam had a petite build. Lowrie wore her brown hair short where Miriam’s was most often in long, black box braids.

"Lily, would it be alright if I mainly worked the back today? I'll come out if you need me, but its the Harpies and Falcons game today," Miriam asked. 

"Sure, no problem!" They finished up the pre-opening housekeeping tasks in a comfortable silence and officially opened up the shop at 8.

“I have extra tickets to Rhys’ game on Sunday, if you know anyone who might be interested.” Her cousin, Rhys Jones played keeper for the Caerphilly Catapults. “No one else from the family is coming.”

“Any particular reason? If you don't mind me asking,” Lily asked, hoping there wasn’t some other family event Miriam was being snubbed from. As far as Lily could gather, things were pretty tense with parts of her family, although Miriam insisted she was far luckier than a lot of other squibs (but that didn't seem to say much).

“They’re playing the Cannons,” Miriam said. It sounded like she thought that was an answer in itself.

“I do have someone I could ask,” Lily said before she thought better of it–probably because she was so pathetically proud of herself for having three whole friends. But on second thought, she couldn’t remember quidditch ever coming up in any conversation or letters with Tom. She didn’t care much about the sport herself.

“Are we finally gonna meet this mysterious Tom?” Miriam grinned.

Lily flushed, “No. Maybe. He’s probably busy anyway.” She resolved herself to actually ask him. If he wasn’t busy and didn’t want to come, he could always just pretend he was or decline outright.

The bell to the shop door rang and Lord Fleamont Potter entered. Lily bit back a groan when she saw he’d brought his tiny terror along again. The pair looked more like a grandad and grandson than the father and son they were. Both the Potters had shocks of wild hair, gray for Lord Potter and black for the kid. Lord Potter was rail-thin to an extent he almost looked a bit unwell. The kid (James, she thinks) looked around 7 and might’ve been a cute kid if he wasn’t one of those nightmarish brats that convinced Lily that children were terrible, actually, and she should never have any. If the gossip was to be believed, the Potters had all but given up on having any children until he came along and it seemed like they spoilt him horribly for it. In the two months she worked there, the boy had always managed to break something or destroy ingredients every time he accompanied his father into the shop. She had yet to see the Lord Potter do much to scold the boy. Lord Potter always paid for whatever his son damaged, but Lily thought that was the bare minimum (he certainly didn’t pay the shop girls any extra to set the shop back to rights).

“Good morning, Lord Potter. How can I help you today?”

“Please Lily, I've told you to call me Monty.”

Lily laughed politely with no intention to do so. Sure, Lord Potter might even mean it, but she was pretty sure other people seeing her call a lord by his given name would piss some people off, scandalize them, or both (her boss was chief among them). If truly pressed, she might be willing to call him Master Potter, even though his lord title outranked his potions mastery.

“Just my usual order today,” Potter said.

“I’ll get that right away, sir.” She stepped into the back where Miriam was already gathering up his package. Lily took it out and started ringing up the order. The interaction felt needlessly stressful as she tried to look like she was giving Lord Potter her full attention, while covertly keeping a weather eye on his son's reckless path through the shop’s aisles.

“Say, are you the Lily that Bobbin is taking on as his new apprentice?” Lord Potter said, peering closely at her.

“Yes, that’s me,” she said. Should she add more? “I’m so honored he’s giving me the opportunity.”

“Yes, congratulations,” he said, distractedly. “What are your plans for your mastery project?”

Was this something she was already supposed to have planned out? It hadn’t even been two full weeks since the impossible offer. “I’m in the very early stages, so I don’t have anything set in stone yet.”

“Hmm,” Lord Potter said, nodding to himself. He sounded horribly judgmental. It made Lily vividly imagine how after he left, he’d go tell all his potions master friends that they were right and that Lily girl was just some hack sleeping her way into an apprenticeship. And then she'd forever be known as that one muggleborn seductress.

Lily mentally scrambled for an idea for a passable project idea she could offer up. She went with a half-baked idea that had been on the back of her mind ever since the first outbreak during her first year. “My initial idea–and I’m still researching if it's at all feasible–is a preventative treatment for Dragon Pox.” 

When she read about the first outbreak, she cornered Severus in a minor panic worrying she might’ve missed her wizard inoculations. She hadn’t, and as far as she could tell, no such thing for any of the wizarding illness yet. Severus told her not to worry about it since they’d invented a treatment for it ages ago and she’d be fine. When Lily pointed out the article was about how someone had died of it, he’d brushed it off as something that she wouldn’t need to be concerned about for decades since it was usually only fatal for old people who were already weakened. Lily thought that only meant the treatment missed the people it most needed to help. It was as if when they announced the polio vaccine they had to add the caveat that it worked, except on children. 

“A preventative treatment?”

“The current treatment is too demanding on the ill person’s when the disease is already going after it. My idea would be for a potion that trains the magic in the body to fight off the disease before it can fully take root when they are exposed to it later on.” She felt strangely more like she was trying to explain vaccines to a time traveling medieval peasant than a modern expert in their field. She hid her shaking hands under the counter.

“Hmm, interesting. Creative. Keep me posted on your progress,”

"Thank you, sir," she said, her heart unclenching. She felt a bit guilty about presenting the idea like she’d made it all up on her own. If you knew about vaccines, it was utterly unimaginative. Literally something a first year with a month of schooling thought up. But she had avoided mentioning that it was inspired by muggle innovation because she didn’t want to be dismissed as one of those muggleborn who looks around and says, ‘Should be more muggle.’ 

“It is good you’re looking into that," Potter continued after a pause. "Euphemia and I do worry about being there for–” as he spoke his eyes sought out his son. He blanched in horror, “James!”

Lily followed his gaze over to see that the Potter boy had climbed up on one of the shelves, which teetered precariously. The moment seemed to hang still as the shelf tilted past the point where gravity took it tipping over. 

Lily vaulted over the front register as she reached out with her magic to prop up the shelf. The boy fell off, landing heavily on his back. The loose products and ingredients slid off the shelf. But before any hit him, a soft blue bubble formed around him, bouncing the ingredients off and away from him. 

Lord Potter went down to his knees and embraced James who’d started crying. He gave Lily a wide-eyed look. “Was that you?” Lord Potter asked. 

Lily panicked, horrified that he might think she’s to blame for this. “I wasn’t watching him. I’m sorry,” she said, but immediately thought twice of it. Was saying sorry admitting she was at fault here? Would Bobbin be upset with her? (What was the state of civil lawsuits in wizarding Britain?)

“No, no. I mean how the shelf stopped falling and the shield around him. Did you do that?”

“I stopped the shelf but I think the shield was him.”

“James. James, did you hear that?” he asked, wiping away the boys’ tears. “You did it! You did magic!”

“I did?” the boy asked, tears slowing down.

“Yes, James. We both saw it.”

James looked at her skeptically, “You did?”

Lily almost felt startled. She didn’t know how to talk to kids. She hadn’t been very good at it even when she’d been one herself. She thought it would be too demeaning to talk to them like she would to her cat. She wound up trying to address the kid like she would an adult. “Yes, I did. It looked like a blue bubble and that was all you.”

He turned triumphantly to his father, a huge grin on his face, “I did it!’ he flung his arms around his dad. Even before today she had thought that if there was anything admirable about how Lord Potter treated his son, it was the open and demonstrative affection he shared. Lily’s dad wasn’t much for even simple hugs on Christmas. 

The shop door rang and a new family entered and stopped at the entryway after taking in the disarray. "Merlin!" the man said.

"Hi sorry I'll be right with-" Lily started.

“Everything alright, Monty?”

“Yes, of course, Roger. Just a bit of accidental magic spicing up the morning!” Lord Potter said, looking pleased as punch.

“Oh wow!” The family started making appreciative sounds and cheers.

For Lily the whole thing had turned from heart-warming to utterly bizarre. The boy had almost pulled a shelf down atop himself and they’re all clapping?

All the noise had brought Miriam out from the back room. She too offered up a sincere, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Lord Potter said. Then he seemed to do a double-take and looked awkwardly away from Miriam. “Thanks,” he repeated quietly.

After a few more minutes, all the customers were sorted out and the Potters left with copious promises of parties and ice cream. Lily and Miriam got to work clearing up the shop.

“Do you know what all that was about?” Lily asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Why were they making such a big deal about it?”

“It seems like this might’ve been the first time James did accidental magic” Miriam said, “I actually hadn’t heard any rumors that he was late to show. They must’ve kept pretty mum about it.”

Oh right. Obvious really. Since not having magic, being a squib, was so stigmatized she saw how it made sense that people treated accidental magic like such a big deal. It was just so very different from her experience with magic around her family. Hers had just left them blinking, disbelieving, and trying to talk themselves out of what they saw with their own eyes. Looking a bit unnerved or just thanking whatever powers that be that Lily hadn’t managed to hurt herself when she really ought to have.

Late in the afternoon, Miriam came rushing into the main room ashen-faced and holding the wireless “Someone tried to assassinate the Minister!”

Maybe it was the shock of it, but all Lily managed was, “Again?”

Miriam dialed in to the right channel. The broadcaster was mid-sentence“--and gold dragonhide boots.  If you have further information, floo-call the auror department immediately…” Lily listened, hand clasped over her mouth. “If you're just tuning in, there was an assassination attempt on Minister Leach at approximately three this afternoon during a teatime charity event at Saint Mungo’s. Early reports say the Minister appeared to have escaped without injury due to the timely intervention of his auror guard. Witnesses say one auror was rushed away for treatment.” 

“While there are conflicting reports on the appearance of the attacker, they are described as wearing a hooded silver robe with a golden mask and gold dragonhide boots.”

Lily couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh. That someone tried to assassinate him at all was terrible, obviously. But there was something extra sick about the person dressing up in a dumb little costume to do it. Some stupidly rich bloke too, by the sound of it. Poor Minister Leach. Well, don’t get her wrong, the man’s politics were reprehensible, but if this was the same person or group trying to kill him as before, they were targeting because of his blood status.

The radio continued, “Initial reports that included further details and descriptions of the attacker are, as of yet, unsubstantiated and this station will await further information. If you have further information…”

Chapter Text

The year 1966 had left Lily feeling rather unpatriotic in her indifference to sport, what with considering how England won the World Cup–the football one–and wizarding Britain hosting the Quidditch World Cup. Her vague guilt didn’t translate into her developing a deeper appreciation for either sport, but she had certainly tried.

She had been nervous when she’d gone to the first game with Miriam and Patty. But while Miriam stayed very much focused on the game, Patty seemed to go primarily to socialize. It almost reminded her of how people seemed to sit through Sunday services primarily for the social gathering afterwards or maybe how her dad went down to the pub to watch weekend games even for the football clubs he didn’t really care about. There was probably an op-Ed waiting to be written that went ‘something, something sport replacing the role of religion in modern Britain’ (actually, that critique was probably a few centuries too late on the wizarding side).

Lily nervously wore a light green summer robe that her mum had made by pulling apart one of her old school robes to work out a sewing pattern. Once at her mum’s request, she asked Severus whether they sold robe sewing patterns. Severus had seemed so incredulous and horrified by the very idea that she figured there must be something special wizards did when they sewed things that made it better to wear them threadbare than made on a muggle sewing machine. Now she figured it was probably just because he was a bigot.  The most muggle part of the robes was the sunflower embroidery patches on the front pockets. (Truthfully, the robe looked shockingly hippie for something that her mum made). It was her first time wearing it out. She thought Tom wouldn’t mind it and, if nothing else, she would at least be able to plead she wore it to match the green in the Catapults’ team colors. 

“Patty,” Lily called out, “Patty-Mac!’ 

Patty looked up, smiled and waved. Patty MacNamara was a conventional sort of blonde beauty who wouldn’t look out of place on the silver screen. She cut through the crowd to meet up with Lily where she stood in the queue. “Lily! Good morning. So, is he coming?”

“Yeah. Tom’s going to meet us here.”

“Excellent.” Patty rubbed her hands together and seemed a little too pleased.

“Please don’t scare him off! We’re just friends.”

“Right,” Patty said. “But are you shagging?”

Lily went bright red. “NO! Why would you–no!”

“Oh, don’t be a prude,” Patty said. Lily hoped she hadn’t offended her. Patty had a couple guys she let take her on dates and buy her nice things. Lily didn’t mean to sound like a scold, but if Patty said anything like that to Tom, Lily would just die. “You’re even dressed like you’re all about that free love! Did you make those robes yourself?” Patty sounded charmed.

“No, my mum did,” Lily said. “Certainly not her usual style.”

“Well, they’re just darling, even if they look a bit different than she intended.” For a while, Lily had sort of waited for the other shoe to drop. Patty had almost seemed too kind to be real, like one of those Hufflepuffs in her year that gave the appearance of kindness but were truly very clannish and two-faced to everyone else. Apparently Patty hadn’t got along very well with her own dorm mates at Hogwarts. Some of that seemed to be because they thought Patty was too muggle. Patty was considered a half-blood or a muggleborn, depending who you asked. Her mother was a muggle and her father a wizard, but since he was muggleborn some people didn’t think he counted.

“Is Miriam already here?” The two were roommates and shared a small flat near Knockturn. They would’ve been in the same year at Hogwarts if Miriam could have attended. Patty graduated when Lily was in third year.

Patty gave a long-suffering sigh, “Yeah, God knows how long she was up before she woke me banging around. She always comes early to watch the warmups.” They had made it into the stadium. Patty bought a copy of the Prophet she tucked under her arm. Their conversation petered off as they trekked up the many levels of stairs to their seats.

They found their seats next to Miriam who was dressed in robes that mimicked the Catapults’ game kit. “Hey, Miriam! How are they looking today?”

Miriam sent Lily a distracted smile. “Pretty good. They’ve got Li warming up instead of Davies so his injury must still be bothering him.”

“Oh no!” Lily said, trying to remember what position Davies played.

“One of the chasers,” Patty murmured. 

“Li’s pretty good too. She may even be better than Davies if less tested. A Cannons game is a safer one for her to start in.”

The scoreboard showed there was only 5 minutes until kickoff (tipoff? whatever it's called). The teams formed up into their pregame huddles. The game didn’t seem to be as well attended as the others she’d been to. She didn’t know if that was because of the attack on the minister or some other reason.

Lily saw Tom enter the stands. Someday, she hoped she’d be able to see him without it stealing her breath. He was also wearing a robe. It had an open front, looking a bit like a smoking jacket or a morning robe. Underneath he wore fitted brown trousers and a waistcoat. She waved to catch his attention. Tom saw her and gave a short wave back as he headed toward them.

Patty clasped Lily by the arm, “Oh my God ,” she whispered.

He made his way to them, “Hi, I’m Tom Riddle,” Tom said.

“Patty MacNamara,” Patty said, sounding a bit starstruck.

“Miriam Jones.”

“Are you all cheering for the Catapults today?” Tom asked.

“Yep! Miriam’s cousin Rhys is their keeper,” Lily said.

“Are they your team?”

“No, I support the Tornados,” Lily said. Although maybe she should stop saying that. She’d only picked a team because it was the thing to do, and she’d only picked the Tornados because Tutshill was the closest to Cokeworth. She hadn’t been to any Tornados games but this was her third Catapults one. “What about you?”

“I don’t really follow any team. I usually just pick one for each game. For this one…Well, in a battle of siege weapons, I feel like a cannon should beat out a catapult, but I don’t suppose the Cannons are any better than they were two decades ago, are they?”

Miriam scoffed, “They’re worse.”

“I’m for the Catapults then.”

“Just ‘cause they’ll win?” Lily said.

“Well, I’d like to support Rhys too, of course,” Tom said, as if he knew Rhys from Adam.

The whistle blew and the game started.  The Catapults quickly became the first to score. After a few more times back and forth, they got the chance to cheer for Rhys as he saved a shot from the left side ring.

After a while, Patty started skimming through the Prophet. “Oh no, that auror who saved the minister passed away.”

“God, that’s awful,” Lily said. He had been in critical condition all of yesterday, which was apparently even more dire news for a wizard than a muggle. People hadn’t been too hopeful he would recover. “That means it's officially a murder investigation, right?”

“Yeah,” Patty said. “I wonder if the investigation has stalled out. They’re still asking people to contact the aurors with information.”

“What I want to know,” Lily said, “Is why the broadcasts keep emphasizing how the details they reported earlier aren’t corroborated. And what those details were.”

“Phillip Abbott said his great aunt was listening to the wireless when they first reported the attack,” Patty said. Phillip Abbott was one of Patty’s dates, although Patty seemed a bit more fond of him than the rest. “They first said the attacker’s hood was knocked loose and that the man looked to be middle-aged and had long, straight, white-blonde hair.” 

Tom let out a delighted laugh, grinning like Christmas had come early., “But that’s Abraxas Malfoy!”

“That’s what Phillip’s aunt thought too! Well she didn’t know which Malfoy, but Abraxas was the only one that’s the right age. But the Malfoys must have gagged the press real quick. Saturday’s Prophet also had an article in the Society pages that showed Abraxas Malfoy leaving his social club about the same time.”

Tom waved his hand dismissively, “They teach us three different ways you can make a false alibi on the NEWTs curriculum alone. All that just makes it more obvious it was him.” He broke back out into snickers. “God, that’s just like him, isn’t it?” 

“Trying to kill the Minister for Magic is just like him?” Lily asked.

“Well, when he’s muggleborn, I suppose,” he said casually as if that didn’t have obvious, horrifying implications about what the man got up to at Hogwarts, “I was talking more about the costume. Gold dragonhide boots! What a theatrical buffoon. It’s so beautifully dumb.”

“It does seem extra sick to put on fancy dress to carry out a political assassination.” 

“Lily. Lily, do you think he and his mates went to the dodgy pub specifically to plot their high crimes?”

God was that it? Why they ran into him at the pub Tom apparently went to avoid them? It was so stupid it was almost scarier thinking that the masterminds behind three attempts on the minister’s life were going about it in such a painfully obvious way, and still hadn’t been caught. What were the aurors investigating the case even going? Were the Malfoys and his friends’ families just that untouchable?

“What have I been doing? Wasting my damn time,” Tom said, sounding half  wry, half despairing. “I should just play to the lowest common denominator. Less Spanish Prisoner and more Bram Stoker’s Count Dracula.” 

“They ran a page on the auror who died,” Patty said. After skimming through it for a while, she continued, “Oh no, he’d just announced his retirement. He was going to take on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts.”

Lily whipped her head around to give Tom a wide eye stare. His eyes darted away as he tried to suppress his laughter. She leaned over to whisper, “Tom, was that your curse? 

He shrugged, grinning, “Maybe?”

Oh my God. She flicked her wrist to set up her modified privacy ward. “You just killed the Defense professor?”

“I mean, it's only a ‘maybe.’ We can’t know for sure it was related to the curse. He dove in front of a lethal hex aimed at the minister, which was kind of his job at the time.”

“What exactly is your curse supposed to do?”

“Well, it's a bit open. Primarily, it makes the people who takes on the job more likely to take risks and more likely to have bad luck.”

But that sounded– “Like one of those ancient Sumerian or Egyptian curses?” she asked skeptically.

Tom looked pleased, “Modeled off those, yeah.”

“But those are more myth than fact. There aren’t any surviving records or proof about how they even worked.” 

“You flatter me.” 

“But aren't the stories about them generally about how they were unstable, unpredictable, and prone to killing far too many people?”

“Mine’s stable. It's not even specifically designed to be that dangerous. If it did affect him, all it did was just encourage him to take the risk of flinging himself in the way of the spell. Lily, the minister might’ve died if he didn’t do that. If you really think about it, if he only did it because of my curse, they ought to be giving me a medal.”

She fought back a disbelieving laugh. “By saving him you mean making another man dive in front of a lethal spell?!”

“Yes, yes, God forbid I curse a man to do his job.”

“You’re awful.” That curse sounded like a fiendishly tricky bit of spellwork, though. “I want to see the specifications on this curse to judge it for myself,” Lily said. 

“I’ll show you, so long as you show me what you did to Slughorn,” he grinned. Well that took the wind out the sails of her righteous indignation.

“What are you two whispering in each others’ ears?” Patty asked. 

Lily pulled down the ward. “Nothing!”

“You're whispering sweet nothings in each others’ ears?” Patty gasped as she fanned herself theatrically.

“No! That’s not–Oh, shut up, Patty.”

The game paused again after one of the referees blew his whistle. Desperate for a distraction Lily asked, “Oh, why have they stopped now?”

“Blurting,” Miriam said.

“Blurting.” Lily repeated in disbelief. “You’re just having me on now, are you?”

“No, Podmore locked his broom with Li to pull her off course.”

She shot a glance toward Tom. “There are 700 fouls in quidditch,” he shrugged. 

“Oh and you can name them, can you?” 

“Well, there's,” he paused, “blurting, to start.” He didn’t continue any further. 

A young woman Lily didn’t recognize approached Miriam and they chatted quietly for a few minutes. Lily was a little surprised to see Miriam let herself be distracted from the game for so long. After she left, Lily asked, “Who was that?”

“Oh, just one of my friends from the squib rights group. We’re organizing an event later this month.”

“I’d be happy to come to support, if any meetings or events are open to the general public. Or whatever would be helpful!” Lily said.

“I’ll let you know…” Miriam said.

Some time later, Tom noted, “Say, they're already up 160 points. The Cannons could actually catch the snitch and still lose.”

“Really, isn’t that super rare?” It had never happened at any of the Hogwarts games she went to, but she had heard people talk about it happening in professional leagues.

“It is.” Miriam said. “It happens in less than 5 percent of games in the British and Irish League. Although the longer the game goes on the more likely it gets. It’s less than 1 percent of games that last under three hours, around 2 percent of those three to six hours, 8 percent of those six to twelve, nearly 15 percent for those twelve to twenty-four, and I think it's when you eventually hit around forty-eight hours it's about one in four.”

Like all sports statistics, the percentages had pretty much gone in one of Lily’s ears and out the other, but good God those time frames. What is this, cricket without the breaks? Obviously she'd have to leave so she could sleep before work tomorrow, but she didn’t want to be out here the rest of the day! “I hope it’s the shortest one,” Lily said. Then realizing that might be rude to say in front of Miriam, “Because it's so rare!”

Tom snorted, “Smooth.”

“Have you ever seen the losing team catch the snitch, Tom?” she said to distract him.

“No. It happened at some game in my fifth year, though. People didn’t seem capable of talking about anything else for two months.”

That sounded miserable. Nothing so dramatic happened while Lily was there but there were a few weeks when some twist or move happened at a game that people obsessed over.

Around noon Lily offered to go buy lunch for their group and bring it back to their seats. Tom came along with her. Lily was deliberating between types of Cornish pasties when Tom spoke.

“No. You have got to be joking,” Tom said, looking to their right in mild horror.

Lily looked and saw Professor Dumbledore making his way toward them. He was dressed in robes that–well the only way Lily could explain it is it seemed Dumbledore didn’t want to pick sides for the game. Instead his robes were an unholy combination of both the teams’ colors in light green, red, and bright orange.

“Hello Tom,” Dumbledore said.

“Hello Professor, fancy seeing you here,” Tom said in a hammed up smarmy tone.

“Yes, I'm making use of season tickets Mr. Davies gifted my dearly departed friend, Horace,” Dumbledore said in a meaningful tone.

Lily was filled with the competing urges to hide away, afraid Dumbledore knew something and laugh because, God, were they all just living off of the freebies and connections left over from Slughorn?

“And you came over to talk to little old me?” Tom said, barely contained violence underpinning the question. 

“I know what you did,” Dumbledore said. Going by his tone, the man seemed to think of himself as something of an avenging angel. “My brother informed me he saw you meeting with your friends Avery, Lestrange, Nott, Mulciber, Rosier, and Malfoy last weekend. Just a few days later someone attempted to assassinate our minister.”

“Your…brother?” Tom said, caught up on that part. 

“Yes, you may know him better as the proprietor of Hog’s Head, Aberforth,” he said, acting like he’d just pulled out some sort of trump card.

“Your brother runs the Hog’s Head,” Tom repeated flatly. “God, of course he does. Why would I expect anything different?” Tom seemed a bit hysterical. 

“So you won’t even deny it?” Dumbledore asked.

“What? Oh, I hardly spoke to them. Lily and I,” Tom motioned to Lily, “were just dropping by the pub. No, if you're looking for the,” his lips twitched, “mastermind behind that scheme, you’ll have to look elsewhere. I don’t know, maybe you could direct your attention toward the man clearly getting away with murder.”

“I heard you were just stopping by while on your ‘date.’” Dumbledore said skeptically, “Do you take me for a fool? Do you honestly expect me to believe you were on a date with a muggleborn woman?” It was a weird thing for Dumbledore to say, and he said it in an even weirder tone. If Lily thought Abraxas sounded like a two-bit villain when he talked to Tom, the man had nothing on Dumbledore.

What did he even mean by that? Wait, wait, was Dumbledore implying Tom was, you know, bent? Like Bobbin, not interested in women? The suggestion felt unexpectedly devastating, which was probably an awful sort of thing for her to feel. But no, it was for the best. Lily didn’t want to ruin their friendship with something so volatile as romance.

“I don’t care if you believe it, it's the truth,” Tom said. Which it wasn’t really but if Lily were Tom she wouldn’t want to have to admit Dumbledore was right about anything either. “We’re lovers.”

Lily choked on her own spit, going a bit lightheaded as blood quickly rushed to her face.

“Is that really something you expect me to believe you're capable of?” Dumbledore asked, condescension dripping off the words. Christ, what’s this guy’s problem? Was he really prejudiced against homosexuals or something? 

“Hi, I’m Lily Evans. You know, the woman you’re talking about. And you don’t know what Tom’s capable of.” She tried to steer her thoughts away from the implications of that. Was she implying she and Tom were shagging? That he was (oh God) really good at it?

“Yes, I know who you are, Miss Evans,” which was funny because she was pretty sure that was the first thing he’d ever said to her. “And I dare say I know what Tom is capable of far more than anyone else alive.” Dumbeldore sounded grim, officious, batshit. “He is a dangerous man, Miss Evans. I would be skeptical of any of his professions of his so-called love. Ending this relationship would be in your best interest.” 

“Oi, holdup! You need to back off, sir,” Lily said. “You’re being unbelievably rude right now!”

He looked at her sadly, “If you ever change your mind or need help, feel free to reach out to me.” Then he swanned off dramatically. 

What was that? Lily thought Tom meant that Dumbledore had it out for him in the sense that he blamed him when things went wrong, not whatever… the hell that was! Not following him around and trying to undermine his relationships. Not making cryptic and dire proclamations about Tom’s nature. As if he thought Tom was some sort of demonic changeling masquerading among humans and only he was clever enough to see it 

“Un-fucking-believable,” Tom said. He’d took out a cigarette to smoke.

The stadium shook with commotion and cheers for the game. From what the announcer was saying, the Cannons’ seeker caught the snitch, and the Catapults won. But Lily couldn’t bring herself to be excited about it.

Chapter Text

There was something deeply unsettling about the dim, winding hallways of the Oblique Street Flats. The narrow halls were cluttered with far too many doors, all set only a few inches apart. Each door led to individual flats that, while small, weren’t the shoe-boxes they appeared from the outside. It was unnaturally silent with how dense people must be packed in. 

Lily startled badly as one of the apartment doors opened and the noise of a party spilled out. She shivered as the noise cut off just as abruptly when the man shut it behind him, leaving the hall as silent as a mausoleum. Someone could be screaming bloody murder in any of these apartments and she wouldn't be able to hear it.

The door to Tom’s flat was a few down from the party. Lily's knock sounded thunderous amidst the quiet. Tom's door opened without warning, Lily flinched back. “Find the place alright?” he asked, stepping back from the door to let her in. That evening, he was wearing white rolled up shirtsleeves and straight-cut plaid trousers. Unlike some of his others, this wasn't a particularly stylish outfit. Of course he still looked as intimidatingly beautiful as always in it.

She found her voice. “Yeah. Funnily enough, Miriam and Patty actually live down on the ground floor.” Their apartment didn't feel as scary to get to, if only because she usually walked with them and there was less of a walk to get to their door.

“Really? I mean that’s probably not as big of a coincidence as you’d think. If you need cheap housing in wizarding Britain, you're pretty much looking at it," he said. "Would you like anything to drink? I've got butterbeer, wine, Earl Grey, and water.”

“Sure, wine please,” Lily said. Tom disappeared back to the kitchen cold-box. His apartment seemed to be in almost a different world than the hallway. Cozy and warmly lit, if a bit impersonally decorated. She itched to walk around the flat and examine his bookshelves, but she wasn’t that rude. She should say something–maybe about that accident Miriam told her about? No, that would be ruder than snooping. “Did you hear that the aurors are going to interview Malfoy?” 

“At his house. On his terms,” Tom said. He brought the wine glasses over. Ooh good, it was white wine.

“Well, at least they’re doing something, I suppose.”

“But it’s almost worse they’re doing this. Now Malfoy will get to pretend there was a real investigation that exonerated him.”

“Well, I know nothing will come of it, but at least the paper and radio are acknowledging there’s enough there to investigate.” Saying it out loud made her realize just how pitiful of an achievement that was. “Miriam said that she thought the Fawleys must be throwing their weight around for Leach."

"She's probably right," Tom said. "What do you think of those rumors?

"Which ones?"

"The ones that say Leach is some sort of squib descendant or bastard of the Fawleys, and not really muggleborn."

"I kind of hate them. Especially, if it would mean the 'first muggleborn' prime minister never really was one. And they can comfort themselves with the thought that we truly aren't that capable. But I suppose it doesn't really matter too much, one way or the other,” Lily said. “I mean, whether he truly shares blood with them or they just decided to as good as adopt him out of love or some unfathomable commitment to the long-game. Either way, they treat him like one of their own, and he got where he is because of their nepotism.”

"Yeah. I slightly prefer the ones that say he and that Fawley from his year, Bernard or something, are long time lovers. Not for any real reason, just the drama of it all," Tom said.

That was... well, the sort of thing she would expect a bent man to say. Again, she internally lectured herself for feeling disappointed. "I hadn't heard that one. I thought he was supposed to be the wife's lover."

Tom shrugged, "Well, there's no reason he can't be both."

A traitorous feeling of hope swelled in her. Right, that was a thing they said could happen! Like Lord Byron... Christ, one would hope it was actually very little like Lord Byron. Just alike in that important way. And then-and then-what Dumbledore said was even more messed up! Or at least equally messed up but for a new reason.

"Didn't mean to break your brain over it," Tom said, lightly.

Oh no, she had just fallen silent for an oddly long time hadn't she? "You didn't break it! I just was thinking about--I mean, I got distracted."

His eyes widened, and he looked almost incredulous, as if she had confessed something especially scandalous. She frantically went back over what she said. "Well, I suppose if that's what does it for you... there's really no accounting for taste..." he said, in a put upon mournful tone. And through his suppressed laughter.

Lily flushed bright red. "I wasn't thinking about them!"

"Oh?" If anything, he looked even more intrigued.

There was absolutely no way to explain this away that she was willing to say out loud. She put her hands on her hips, "Shouldn't we get to the reason we're here? You know, your murderous curse," she blustered.

"Alright, alright. Yours too, of course." He went over to one of the bookshelves and picked up a notebook. "I wasn't the one distracted, though," he murmured, teasing.

She told herself she was actually being the bigger person by pretending she couldn't hear that part. 

She pulled out her own notebook and they sat down at his dining table. Lily pushed the candle to the side to give them more space to work with. She handed over her book, “I think what I used was either this one or that one,” Lily said. 

“You can’t remember?”

“Well, I destroyed any note I ever made about it, of course. Like I will these. But when I was revising for my NEWT I kept thinking of things I could have done better and I can’t quite remember which of these was the one I used.”

Tom pressed a hand to his mouth “… You couldn’t stay focused on your revisions…because you kept thinking of ways you could’ve killed him more efficiently.”

And look, it sounded terrible and absurd if you said it like that. “Not more efficiently,” she pretty well had that covered, “just safer! Like anyone could’ve been in that room with him and I could’ve hurt them! And I wasn’t that distracted, I still got an O in Runes.”

He shook his head, laughing and handed over his notebook. Lily skimmed through the pages–and there were a lot for his curse–then started reading. Now this , this was proper magic.

They read in companionable silence for a few minutes. “Brilliant,” Tom said. 

And Lily couldn’t help feeling a bit chuffed that the man who created this curse thought her own work was brilliant. “Yours too. I still have a bit to go.”

She finished the pages. But that couldn’t be all! She flipped back through, then in the other pages looking for it. Her dread growing every second she couldn't find it. “Where’s your limiter? Are you missing a page?”

“No, all of it's there. I didn’t think it needed one.”

“Didn’t need one?” she asked, horrified. Even if you didn’t want to substantially reduce instances of occurrence–which this certainly required–it was just poor practice not to have one at all! “Sure one or even a dozen instances of high risk behavior or bad luck wouldn’t be that risky. But again and again for however many years they work there. No starting as soon as they accept the job! I’d be surprised if anyone lasts 5–no, 3 years before they have to retire or die ! You have to fix it.”

He didn’t look terribly persuaded. She tried a different track, “You haven’t invented an improved version of those ancient curses. You’ve just recreated them, with all their faults! Uncontrollable, unpredictable overkill. Any cursebreaker will take a look at what you did and think you’re an idiot!”

He gave her an amused look, and she realized he saw straight through that tactic. Well, it always worked with Severus! “You have to go back and fix it!” she insisted.

“Oh, I dunno. The aurors were so cross the last time I went there,” he said in a put upon tone. “You really think I have to go back?”

“Am I telling you to do some light trespassing to fix your uncontrollable murder weapon?” she said mockingly. “Yeah, actually. The sooner the better!” Or, and she really ought to have started with this: “You could also just go and take it down entirely!”

"Fine. I'll fix it. If you insist,” he said. 

“I do insist.”

“So, how would you add the limiter?” he asked.

Lily opened up a new page in her notebook.

At some point later, they migrated over to the loveseat in the living room. The wine must have loosened her tongue because she found herself bringing up the topic she swore she wouldn't. “You know, there was an accident a few decades ago in the flats like these when the expansion wards failed. A bunch of people wound up dead.“ Christ, what a thing to bring up! Hey, do you ever think about how you might be crushed to death any minute now?

“Yeah, that happened in early ‘41. February, I think. It killed 34 people.”

“You must know the story better than me. I’m rubbish at remembering numbers.”

“Well this was a special case. For a while there, I was convinced the Ministry was covering up the truth that the flat was hit in the Blitz. I was cutting out newspaper articles, improvising a pin board, and everything.”

Oh God, she’d forgotten about the Blitz. Well, not forgotten, forgotten. Just hadn’t put it together with the year. “Was it a coverup?” She had found it very odd that wizards seemed to have hardly noticed the second World War, especially when all the main wizarding districts were in the heavily bombed London.

“Almost certainly not,” Tom said. “Unless it was a coverup carried out with a level of competence the ministry never pulled off before or since.” 

“Did they avoid the Blitz entirely? They don’t really mention the war in the books I’ve seen. Just that a big muggle war was happening, and some sort of collusion might’ve happened with Grindelwald.”

“Seems like the ministry was secretly going around improving wards but not wanting to alarm people. They deafened the Alley to air raid sirens. But they didn’t really change anything outwardly. The wards didn’t even let light out, or at least made it unnoticeable, so they didn’t have to black out at night.”

God, that was… and they did it so easily most people didn’t even notice. “And they just kept it to themselves then?” Lily said. “Tens of thousands dead just blocks away, and they just kept on their daily business on their side.” It was bleak to an extent she struggled to wrap her mind around.

She had never quite asked where his orphanage was, but he had a Cockney accent. “Were you there for any of it?”

“Not the Blitz proper, I was at Hogwarts then. But we were hardly sure the Germans were done and wouldn’t start up again any day.” 

She frowned, “Didn’t they mostly evacuate children, though?”

“Yeah. I was away for that and neither the Ministry nor the orphanage were fussed to notify me where I was supposed to go. 

“They just left you there?”

“Well charitably, the orphanage might have thought my boarding school would let me stay on. More likely they didn’t care one way or the other. I’m pretty sure Cole–the matron–would have smiled if I got killed.”

That was horrifying, “How old were you?”

“Uh, I would’ve been … 14 that year.” That was so young! (But also pretty old in another way. Her dad was 23 when he was conscripted. In 1940).

“How did you get by?” She realized she had just nudged closer to him. That was probably weird and very obvious of her, but it would also draw more attention to it if she scooted back. 

“I mostly lived in Knockturn that summer, then the country the next years. I ended up doctoring some papers to get rations. I’m almost surprised with my luck that I wasn’t called up over them.”

“If you were, would you have taken Leach up on his draft dodging programme?”

“Yes. I mean they probably would have figured out I had bad papers and wasn’t really old enough, but mostly just because I didn’t want to die.”

Lily knew her dad really wouldn’t like that, but Lily wasn’t sure she could’ve blamed Tom, even if he’d been of age. Well, she did blame that cunt, the not-yet minister Leach. God, the way he talked about it–not joining those savage muggles fighting with stones and fists.

“Do you want anything else?” Tom changed the topic. “Same drinks as before. I think I might have some biscuits and the like.”

“No, I still have my water.” Lily took a sip, as if she thought she had to prove it or something.

“Smoke?” he offered, holding out his pack of Woodbines.

“No, thanks. It’s not for me,” Lily said. Tom’s hand hesitated on the box. “I don’t mind being around it, though,” she said. Lily thought Tom actually looked pretty cool with it, like some sort of a film star. 

He lit up wandlessly. And wow, he really did have a pretty mouth. His mouth moved. Crap, he must’ve said something.

“Sorry?” Lily said. 

“Are you free next Saturday?”

“Y–No, unfortunately. I’m off work, but I have a family dinner thing. I’m pretty sure my sister’s awful boyfriend is going to propose.”

“Petunia, right?”

“Yeah. Her boyfriend is named Vernon Dursley,” she said.

“What’s the problem with him?”

“He–” how should she describe it? It wasn’t any one thing. “He went to some sort of public school. Nowhere near as prestigious as Eton, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by listening to him go on about it.” That sounded a bit classist. “He puts on airs, is what I’m saying. And acts like he thinks my dad’s a bit simple because he’s an electrician with not much schooling. He thinks the music and drugs are corrupting the youth, like he’s not still a young himself. And his big dream is moving to Surrey.”

“Sounds like a fun dinner. And a fun every family gathering you’ll have for years and years if they marry.” Oh God, she could just see the years of torturous events spanning out ahead of her.

“But, will your dad allow him to marry her?” Tom asked. “He sounds like the type who would insist he does things ‘properly.’”

“My dad already said yes,” Lily said, glum.

“He did? So the proposal is just a formality and it's all settled already?”

“Well, I don’t think Petunia knows. Unless she already talked to Vernon about it. She’s almost certainly going to say yes, though.”

Tom frowned, “Then how do you know?”

“Er, my parents might’ve let it slip. Now don’t you go telling her either,” she told him, mockingly.

“Oh, how is it? Being the favorite.”

“I’m not the favorite! They love us equally.”

“Hmm, that really sounds like something the favorite child would say.”

“Well, not this time!” How dare he? “They’re great parents! They might baby me a little, but that doesn’t mean I’m favored.”

“We can check what Petunia would say…” Tom trailed off.

Petunia seemed angry with everyone. Even Vernon, every once and a while. She would probably lie about it. “... let’s not.”

Tom laughed. 

“Oh hush,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his. Then she suddenly felt very aware of how close they were sitting to each other. Their arms were still brushing, her left knee was against his leg. Even where they sat apart, it was like she could feel every millimeter between them like a weight.

She looked back up at him. His eyes looked very dark. Lily swallowed.

Then suddenly, it felt all too much. She stood abruptly. “I should probably go,” she said. An expression flashed over his face, but was gone before she recognized it. Was he, her heart skipped, disappointed? She was just standing there. What was she saying? “Work tomorrow. I’ll see you Saturday. I mean soon. Maybe next Saturday. If dinner’s not too long or something especially funny happens.” God, was she just inviting herself over?

“I’ll see you then. Or soon after,” Tom said.

Lily retreated.

Chapter Text

Lily decided to wear that unflattering dress she bought on Petunia’s recommendation, in one of her great sacrifices to keep the peace between them. It was a pink paisley shirtwaist dress that certainly didn't do her any favors. And if that was the real reason Petunia recommended it, at least she wouldn’t accuse Lily of trying to upstage her today.

Petunia herself was done up in one of her most expensive dress, a powder blue number with matching kitten heels. She was self-conscious about how tall she was, although it only seemed to annoy her when Lily once mentioned she’d be happy if she could trade those few centimeters. Petunia seemed to have some sort of complex about their respective looks. Lily didn’t really get it, apart from their coloring they didn’t look that different. They were both a bit too skinny and taller than average, although Lily seemed to have lost the coltishness to her limbs her sister still had. And okay, Lily would privately admit that some of the features on her own face might come together in a way people say is more conventionally pretty than on Petunia’s (she thought it was something in the definition of her jawline) but Petunia still looked nice! Lily never was all that enamored of her own looks anyway. Maybe that would be different if she suffered one or two less comments at Hogwarts about how they were all she had going for her.

Lily joined the rest of the family in the living room when it was nearly time for Dursley to arrive. Chester hopped up onto her lap.

“Oh, can you put him up away in your room?” Petunia asked.

“What.” Lily said, clutching him protectively. Put him away? Like he’s some ugly old china?

“Vernon doesn’t like cats.”

“Dump him.” Lily was dead serious.

Petunia visibly tried to rein in her temper. She stuck her nose up, “Don’t be jealous”

“Jealous?” she was genuinely confused before she realized, “Of him? That cat hating pillock?”

“Girls,” Mum scolded. “Lily, can you take Chester upstairs?”

“Mum!” Lily said, betrayed.

“Just for tonight.” She put extra emphasis on the word. Every single one of them obviously knew tonight was special. But for some reason they were all going around pretending it was any other night that they just so happened to decide to spend days and days preparing for.

“Fine,” Lily said, bitterly. She gathered Chester up in her arms and carried him upstairs. All the while muttering aspersions against Petunia and Dursley’s characters into his ginger fur. She sulked in her room to cuddle him for as long as she could justify. At her door, she turned back to apologize to Chester again, but he was lounged out on the bed, blissfully unaware of his unjust imprisonment.

Back in the living room, Petunia directed them on where to stand, moving them about by the shoulders when it wasn't quite right. It reminded Lily of the setups for the elaborate stories her sister used to stage with her dolls. 

“And Dad, if you could please avoid bringing up politics...”

“Me?” Dad said. “Well, I won’t if he doesn’t.”

Petunia pursed her lips. “Fine. Everyone just… be normal, okay?” 

Lily bristled. Petunia could say whatever she liked about Lily, but how dare she talk down to their parents! 

When the doorbell rang Petunia did one last check in the entryway mirror before she answered it. 

“Vernon, darling.” Vernon Dursley was a twenty-five year old man with bright yellow-blond hair that looked unfortunate with his ruddy complexion. She assumed his three-piece suit was once tailor fit, but he seemed to have put on some weight around the middle from how the buttons now strained.

“Petunia, my rose. I’ve brought this for you,” Dursley said, holding out a bouquet of petunias. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Thank you, Vernon,” Petunia simpered.

Oh come on! Peonies were her actual favorite. Lily sent her mum a telling look. Mum just sent back one of warning 

“And a bottle of wine for dinner! It’s an excellent vintage, if I do say so myself.”

Vernon was apparently some sort of important accountant from the city who met Petunia while he was in Cokeworth working on some sort of acquisition or something with the drill factory. Lily knew he’d just love to remind them of the details of it if asked, but she couldn’t care less. He somehow managed to make his work stories sound even more boring than you would expect. 

Dursley brought up the by-election within 10 minutes. Lily was almost disappointed when her mum redirected the conversation. When Dursley started talking about cars, Lily tried to tune out completely. She wished he would just propose before dinner so they didn’t all have to sit around making idle chit-chat, and pretending this was any other night. She’d rather listen to Petunia talk about the wedding plans she’s been drafting since she was 8, than Dursley’s dreams of someday buying an Aston Martin.

Her mum went to check on the roast the second time within fifteen minutes.

“Need any help?” Lily asked. Her mum demurred, which kind of annoyed Lily because she was certain her mum was just checking to avoid the conversation too. The roast still ought to have about thirty minutes left (oh God).

There was a tapping at the window. Lily looked over and, thank God. Or rather, oh no who could have possibly been so rude as to send her a letter now?

“Sorry, I need to check on something in the kitchen.” Lily excused herself, fleeing Petunia’s glare through the kitchen and out to the back garden. The owl swooped around and landed nearby. But when Lily reached for the letter the owl snipped at her fingers. Lily craned her neck to see who it was addressed to. “Pet-” Petunia? Wait no, “Peter Evans.” That didn’t make any more sense. Why on earth would anyone be owling her dad? 

“Er, stay here?” Lily told the owl. She went back inside and poked her head back into the living room. “Dad, could I borrow you for a minute?”

Her dad was on his feet before she even finished the question. “Of course, Lily.”

Once the kitchen door closed behind them, Lily told him, “Someone sent you an owl.”

“An owl? …Oh, you mean like your post.” 

In the garden, the owl tried to land on her dad. He dodged it. “Bloody hell!” 

“It’s trying to land on your arm. Stick it out like this.”

“You’re joking.” She tried to talk him around. “You know your great uncle Ed used to keep chickens. That nasty old rooster nearly gored me once.” 

Lily had heard that story more times than she could count. “Well, they train post owls to be gentle.” Also to flee or attack when people tried to steal post that wasn’t theirs, but that would hardly help her dad feel more comfortable.

Eventually her dad flinchingly took his letter. “Can you get rid of it?” he asked, but the owl already took off.

Her dad unfolded the letter and squinted at the page, holding it closer to, then further from, his face. He patted his breast pocket but didn’t find his glasses. “Read it out for me,” he told Lily.

She took the letter, her eyes skipping down to the signature: ‘Albus Dumbledore.’ Her stomach sunk in a pit of horror. Why the hell was Dumbledore writing her dad?

“What is it?” her dad said.

“It’s from my old headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.”

“What’s he writing me for?”

“Er he says, ‘Dear Mr. Peter Evans, I have something I must discuss with you. I will drop by at 8:30 this evening–’”

“He’s inviting himself here? Today?” Dad said, incredulous. “Well, he’s not getting through our door! Who the hell does he think he is?”

It was almost unbelievably rude, but he was Albus Dumbledore. “Dad, I don’t think he meant it poorly. He’s… well, he’s an important man, the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot.”

“...Are those words supposed to mean something?”

“He’s like the Lord Speaker of the wizard’s House of Lords.”

Her dad’s face turned in disgust, “All the more reason not to let him in. Bloody lords.” Oh right, her dad wanted them to abolish that.

“He defeated Grindelwald.” Her dad stared back, uncomprehending. “Grindelwald was a dark lord. Like Wizard Hitler!”

That made him pause, “Wizard Hitler? But why does he want to talk to me?”

Lily tried to skim ahead for the answer. Oh. my. God. How dare he? “Well, Dad,” she said. “First of all, I want you to remember that none of it is true!”’

Dad started looking suspicious, “Lily.”

“Okay fine! But remember what I said. Dumbledore writes ‘I need to speak with you about Tom Riddle. I do not wish to alarm you, but I believe your daughter is being–’ Again, Dad, remember that this is not even a little bit true–”

“Who’s Tom Riddle?”

“He’s just a friend! And I am not being ‘taken in’ by him.”

The kitchen door opened, revealing her mum. “Please, keep your voices down.”

“Rosemary, Lily is seeing some boy,” Dad said, only a touch quieter.

“Oh, Tom?” Mum said.

Her dad gaped. “‘Oh Tom ?’ what do you mean ‘oh Tom’? What do you know about this boy?”

“Well, Lily said he’s an older boy she met last spring. She visited him last Tuesday to work on a... runes project, I think she said.”

“Yes, Mum, that’s right!” Lily said.

Dad stared at Mum in disbelief. “You have to tell me these things, Rosemary! A runes project? She’s not even in school anymore!” 

“We really aren’t dating!” Lily said. “We’re just friends.”

“See, now she’s out at all hours, doing God knows what with a boy who won’t even agree that they’re dating!” He turned to Lily. “That’s worse, Lily!”

“It's not like that!” Lily said. “But if we don’t act now, we’re about to have an unexpected guest!”

“Tom's coming over?” Mum asked.

“No!” They should all move the conversation past Tom, please. “My old headmaster invited himself over! I don’t want him to ruin Petunia’s big night!” she said, as if that was her main concern. “I could write him back–” she didn’t have an owl. She never had much of anyone to write, certainly never anyone who didn’t send their own. Even then, an owl couldn’t make it to Scotland, to catch Dumbledore in time, assuming he’s there. “And I’ll pop into Hogsmeade to post it.”

She convinced her dad to pen Dumbledore a quick letter. “But this conversation isn’t finished,” Dad told her.

Lily needed to get a Sickle from her room. Petunia looked fit to spit fire when she passed by her and Dursley. She opened her door a crack to slip through, as Chester tried to dart out when she opened it. The poor boy must have wised up to his confinement. 

Lily got the money and apparated to Hogsmeade. Hogwarts stood imposingly on the hill. It suddenly struck her as weird to be here only for a quick errand. Any of the seven years before, she would have been back at Hogwarts to start the fall session. She hurried to the owl office. Hopefully Dumbledore would get it in time. God, she didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if Dumbledore still showed up and wouldn’t leave until he said his piece.

The woman behind her in line sniffed and muttered under her breath about “mudblood whores.” Lily kept her neck straight and pretended she couldn’t hear it, but felt near naked in her short dress.

She half-jogged back to the apparition point and returned to her room. The whole trip couldn’t have taken more than five minutes.

“There it was again,” Dursley said, the heating vent in her room carrying the conversation from the living room downstairs. “Like a car backfiring.”

“Sorry? I don’t think I heard it,” Mum said.

“Vernon, I’m sure it was just the cat. Again,” Petunia said in a tight voice. Oh, she sounded fuming mad.

Lily waited a moment for the color in her cheeks to go down and to catch her breath. Chester sat by the door, blinking at her accusingly. He wriggled rebelliously when she picked him up so he couldn’t run past her into the hall. “I’m so sorry, boy.” 

The air in the living room was heavy when she returned. Her dad’s mood seemed to have taken a nosedive. Dursley was off on some diatribe about council housing. Jesus, their house was one of the prefab homes built after the war, and her dad worked on the wiring in council funded homes and estates here and in Birmingham. Her dad stared back at Dursley with his arms crossed. His face nearly blank but for the slight disgusted curl of his lip.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Why don’t we head to the table?” Her mum said, just as Dad’s mouth opened in a snarl. 

They migrated over to the dining table. Her dad took his time so he could sidle up next to Lily “1926?”

“What?” 

“That man was born in 1926?!” Dad said in a sharp whisper. Crap they must’ve kept reading the letter.

“Lily, could you bring out the potatoes?” Mum said.

Grateful for the escape, Lily darted into the kitchen. She shrieked, nearly dropped the plate when a blazing inferno erupted over the counter. The fireball receded to reveal… a bird. 

“Lily?!” Her mum said.

“Fire,” Lily called back, heart pounding out of her chest. She realized that was far too alarming of a thing to say, “But it got better!”

That must be the headmaster’s phoenix. The bird held a letter.

“...I’m gonna go check on her,” Dad said. 

He joined her in the kitchen, “Really?” He stopped short when he saw the bird. “The hell kind of bird is that?”

“It’s a phoenix. It just” she motioned vaguely “showed up in a great ball of fire!” she said. “He’s Professor Dumbledore’s, I think he’s called Fawkes.”

“...He named his fire bird after Guy Fawkes?” Her dad seemed a bit charmed by this. During the Guy Fawkes days throughout the years, Lily got the impression that her dad relished the ‘what ifs’ of Fawkes’ plot a little too much. Not that he truly wished the plot succeeded (he certainly wouldn’t have wanted the Catholics to take back over). But the three and a half centuries removed, the idea that someone very nearly blew up almost everyone in government was just funny to him.

“The letter is probably for you again.”

“Oh…” Her dad made no move to approach the bird. He laughed nervously. “You said that thing can light itself on fire?” 

“Can I get it for him?” she asked the bird. “He's very intimidated by you.”

“Healthy caution,” Dad muttered.

Fawkes cocked his head at Lily.

“I’ll hand it right to him. You can gouge me if I don’t”

“Don’t encourage that!” Dad said.

Fawkes trilled out something that seemed like an affirmative. Loudly.

“Shhh!” Then Lily blanched realizing she just shushed the headmaster’s immortal, kind of sentient companion. “Sorry, there’s a muggle here,” she whispered.

“Now, did you hear that?” Dursley said from the other room. “Almost like music.”

“The radio, maybe?” Mum said.

She approached Fawkes, got the letter, and handed it to her dad. Her dad opened it and handed it back to her to read. Fawkes fluffed out his feathers in offense, making her dad flinch back. “Read it out. All of it, and no editorializing this time.”

“Right. It says, ‘Dear Mr. Evans, I apologize for the inconvenience. Would next Sunday at 7 be more agreeable for you?” It was a stay of execution, but a brief one. Lily continued, “Please give your daughter my sincere felicitations. Kind Regards, Albus Dumbledore,’” and in the interest of malicious compliance, Lily continued to read out the full signature, ‘“Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards.’”

Her dad scoffed. “What a cunt.” He recoiled when Fawkes’ head turned toward him. “I’m just saying, suppose we were busy next Sunday? He’s still inviting himself over again.” It took her dad a while to write the reply, as hesitant as he was to take his eye off Fawkes. The bird flamed away with it. 

Lily finally took out the potatoes. “Oh I do hope nothing’s gone cold,” Petunia said glaring.

Dursley flourished the wine bottle. “I thought this 1953 Red Bordeaux Blend would pair well with a roast.”

They made appreciative noises, although Lily really didn’t know enough about wine for that to mean much. She usually preferred white wines.

“Thanks. What a great vintage.” Lily would eat her hat if her dad knew much more than she did about it. “Say, Rosemary, remember that one time we had that 1926 vintage? Wasn’t it crazy, having a wine so old they made it when you were too young to drink. Why, I only turned 9 that year! How old would you have been, Rosemary?”

“Well, this might not be that old of a vintage, but the wine from this year was particularly well regarded.” Dursley seemed a little abashed by his wine now. 

“I think you’re misremembering, Pete,” Mum said pointedly. “This is lovely, Vernon. I’ve never had such a nice wine.”

Lily sipped her glass. It tasted like a rich people drink, but she also didn’t taste quite different enough to be shelling out however much extra for it.

Through what Lily would assume was brute will, Petunia forced the conversation back to how she probably spent all night planning. Lily couldn’t pay any attention as she fretted over what Dumbledore would say. And what her parents would say to her about Tom.

After they cleared away the meal, but before dessert, it finally happened. Dursley got down on one knee and took out a jewelry box. “Petunia, my love, will you do me the honor of becoming my beautiful bride?”

Petunia brought her hands up to her mouth like she was genuinely shocked by this development. “Oh yes, Vernon! Nothing would make me happier!”

The rest of the Evans’ pretended to be shocked as well as they passed around their well wishes. “Congratulations,” Lily said. Petunia sent her a look of loathing. But Lily hadn’t even meant for it to sound so insincere!

Lily found the conversation for the rest of the visit much more enjoyable, even if she could have recited some of Petunia’s points about the wedding from memory. Eventually, Dursley left for the night. Petunia was all smiles until Dursley’s car door snapped shut, then she turned on them, spitting mad. “What is wrong with you?! All of you!”

“Er, I had to stop Professor Dumbledore from crashing your party,” Lily said, quite certain this was a very reasonable excuse.

“Dumbledore?” Petunia looked haunted by the very name.

“He said to give you his ‘felicitations,’” Dad scoffed.

“Albus Dumbledore knew I was getting engaged,” Petunia said. She began to laugh a bit madly. And yeah, Lily did think that was pretty weird. “But why? What on earth could that man want now?” Petunia asked.

“He wanted to talk to us about some suspicious man Lily’s been seeing. He’s forty.”

“I’m not seeing him!” Lily said.

"I think you'll need to bring Tom over. We need to meet him," Mum said.

“You mean my engagement was ruined because Lily is seeing some man?" Petunia laughed shrilly. "Right, of course.” She nodded quietly to herself. 

Lily almost thought that was it. Then, without warning, Petunia launched herself at Lily with a scream, grabbing a fistful of Lily’s hair. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”  Lily lashed out, her hand chopping Petunia’s long neck and making her choke, allowing Lily to escape her clutches.

“Girls!” Mum shouted.

Dad sighed. “We could always try letting them fight it out?”