Chapter one is dedicated to the amazing Brynlee for making this gorgeous cover, helping me decide on some of the friendships (soooo long ago) and just generally being super cool! ♥️♥️
Actuallyamarauder

Lily Evans was sick and tired of normal. She had lived out her entire sixteen and a half years out in tedious, mundane shelter from all things magical, all things that she yearned to know.

Most days she had learnt to make peace with that melancholic fact but more recently, especially today, that had become somewhat impossible. This particular crisp aired evening was the first of September. The day she should have spent on platform nine-and-three-quarters with Severus.

But instead she was here. In Cokeworth, having not talked to Severus in months, and now feeling more out of place in the pedestrian world than she ever had.

Lily only took her Hogwarts letter out it's hiding place once a year, September first: today, and so there it was, sitting on her desk, taunting her nonchalantly, laughing at her.

She wanted to pick it up, to touch it but she couldn't. In her younger years she had sworn that holding it to her chest could make her feel the magic from within it but nowadays she could barley feel a twinge; she wasn't even sure if she had ever felt anything or if her juvenile brain was just inventing what it wanted to feel.

For years, Lily had felt her ability to control or channel her magic fade with time, almost to a point where she feared it would never return. The days of shattered ornaments, snowing ash and bloody tears were mainly behind her. Now the best she could muster was her only trick: the manipulation of flowers.
It would come back in waves now and again but something deep inside her wondered if one day her ability might disappear forever. Right now, at sixteen and a half she could only describe using her magic like trying to run in water, obtuse and maddening and so she seldom bothered to try, convincing herself it was better that way. She was normal now. She should try and act like it.

She had gotten very good at being normal too, over the years she had mastered the subtle art of faking normality and now was top of year eleven at Cokeworth Academy, a prefect and recently head of the photography club too. She had composed herself a wonderful little life with the opportunities she did have. For most people like her, the tidy life she lead would have been enviable but to her it was lacklustre and lacking spontaneous wonder.

The letter was still there, on her desk, when she opened her eyes after closing them for what might have been an minute but easily could have been a millennium.

Parchment.

That's all it was. Parchment. And yet somehow Lily had let it personify itself into an evil being set on mocking her and her lost chances.

If she didn't just pick it up soon she might meet her demise. It was a rather cretinous way to go: death by parchment, a way to go that Lily did not intend on taking.

"Fuck you," she breathed at it, snatching it up and crumpling the edge over in the process. She found her unhealthy amounts of malice towards the tea-stained looking paper had controlled her for too long.

She scoffed. Who lets a bit of paper win a stare-off?

Now that it was in her hands, Lily realised just how unceremonious the whole ordeal was. It was a piece of paper after all, it shouldn't have put her off on sabbatical and yet she had let it tower over her for a millennium (or perhaps the earlier discussed minute, she had no means of knowing).

Dear Lily J. Evans,

It read. She knew this of course. She'd read it enough to have it committed to memory –and she did– but that never quite took away from the new surge of emotion she got from reading the letter once a year. Somehow knowing exactly what it was going to say made the whole thing worse.

Dear Lily J. Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Sincerest Regards,
Minerva McGonogall,
Deputy Headmistress

Sincerest Regards.

Ironic really. Considering where she was now, alone. Her magic fading and the world the letter represented slipping through her fingers. She wondered if anyone remembered her there, knew who she was. If anyone had cared to wonder what it might have been like if she had arrived in Hogwarts on September first 1971.
She doubted it. Not even Severus would wonder anymore.

She liked to think that wherever Minerva McGonogall was now, Lily was still in her Sincerest Regards.

The black ink danced derisively on front of her, plotting behind her back.

"I'm going insane," she muttered, dropping the letter like it was made of hot coals, "this is ridiculous."

Even from the floor her letter looked malicious. She scrambled to get it out of her sight, back in it's hiding place at the bottom of her jewellery box. She never quite managed to puzzle why she still got it out, it only seemed to worsen her mood to the point of her groundbreaking misery. In truth she would probably be better off if she burned the bastard thing.

For the earlier September Firsts the letter had been a comfort, the only thing that could really understand (odd really, considering it was an inanimate object) and she took solitude in its comforting words, reminding her she was real and that it had all really happened. But now the letter was poison, it's words twisting balefully and torturing her. Nowadays she can come to realise that perhaps it would have been better if none of it was ever real; and the letter was the only thing that tied her to –what had now become– the bane of her existence and the destroyer of her September firsts. She would be better off if that bloody letter had never reached her hands. So much bloody better.

She had tried to burn it. Last year she had tried, the lighter was struck and within a flicking distance to the parchment.

She couldn't do it.

She must have stood there for about an hour; until the sun had set and the air went cold. When she got home she was shivering so violently that her mother feared she might have been having a breakdown. Winter in Cokeworth was abominable as far as Lily was concerned.

She couldn't burn it so instead she resigned herself to the knowledge that she would be 'normal' for the rest of her life.

Normal, Lily had concluded, was shit.

And, much to her disappointment, normal had founds it's way into every crevice of the world around her. Oozing out of every pore and creeping from each crevice, burning her to death.

She looked around her.

Boring as shit.

Her bedroom was small compared to the rest of the house but it was the only room in the Evans residence without white walls, she had made sure of that my painting them herself the previous year. Instead of the mundane, anaemic paint-jobs Lily's walls were a dark jade, all except the one to the far left, where her bed sat, that one she had painted to resemble grey marble. Despite being 'boring as shit,' she had always been fond of that wall.

There were Polaroids crammed into almost every inch of the opposite wall, snapshots of her friends, her family and the most beautiful places she'd been in her life; mainly the English countryside and coastline. The one in the middle was her favourite; it was a shot taken on her film camera of Brighton Beach in the summer golden hour, her best friend sat on the pier, her charcoal curls billowing in the sea air. It was serene. Just looking at it almost took her back, away from the dreadful letter and into the open ocean.

Posters. They featured in Lilys room also. The Carpenters, Pink Floyd, The Beatles, Queen, The Monkees, The Bee Gees. Anything she could get her hands on really. Music was one of the only things in life that was never mundane, there was always something new to music, something she hadn't noticed, or that she hadn't considered. Music, unlike a lot of things, wasn't shit.

Her turntable smiled at her from its position on the shelf, by her favourite wall. It's funny how somethings smiled and others mocked. Lily found she liked her turntable better than her letter in that moment. Her turntable seemed to be an arbitrator in her dilemmas, it didn't judge her.

There was a mountain of vinyls (almost as large as the case of books) on the third wall. She stalked over to it, as if she were a gazelle. She needed something comforting, something kind.
Her hands instantly sought The Beatles but quickly she retreated.

Not quite...

And so she her continued her search. Her fingers grazing not only vinyls but memories, she found that was one of the only other things that wasn't shit. Perhaps it was the reason she liked music so much.

Memories.

Every album, every single, every EP had a memory attached. Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band: she had bought that after her best friend's breakup and they danced in her bedroom until they couldn't feel their legs.
Now & Then: She had been gifted that by her mother on her thirteenth birthday. It was one of her most treasured possessions.

Memories were a wonderful thing. She liked those, no matter how much they could hurt her.
Her fascination with memories was a difficult one to explain, she knew better than any one that fewer things were more deceptive than memories and yet she had always been enticed by them, by what they do to people. Memories are bullets. And yet Lily allowed herself to be shot again and again with the handgun of her life. The way some memories were glorified and others were barely there, memories were probably the most deceptive thing about life but she was tantalised.

Dreams alluded her too. The pure magic of them. What they stood for, what they meant, what they made the dreamer become. The words of Albus Dumbledore had never left her: "you can give a man everything you own, but you cannot give him your dreams." She thought about that more than she would care to admit.

Lily was a dreamer. And so music and books were only natural hobbies to occupy herself with. Books were the other main component to the charming little room she had made for herself. Books of various size, thickness, cover, age and length. Books carried words, but stories carried hearts and that was why she loved them. Because –similar to memories and dreams– nothing leaves a permanent mark on you quite like a fantastic story.

Her hands still sought something, what she wasn't quite sure, until suddenly she saw it...
"Bingo," she smiled, pulling out the record and placing it on the player with care. This was the first single she ever bought. Daydream Believer by The Monkees.

She closed her eyes, letting the black ink letters slip out of her vision to be replaced with the warm spring day she recalled so clearly: the day that eight-year-old Lily Evans made her way into the record shop and bought her own vinyl with her pocket money.

The sunset outside wasn't dissimilar to the one she recalled from that day. The pink hues floated into her bedroom and cast a mesmerising light across the walls, making them turn a plethora of purples, her walls were a painters pallet, mixed and swirled. Magical. She had never completely believed in any divine power but on beautiful nights like this, one found it was difficult not to wonder.

It was funny how quickly something beautiful can change a person. A moment ago she had let herself be tortured by the ghost of a memory. By a bit of paper. And now she sat on her bed, letting music absorb her and a fetching sunset melt away her thoughts, replacing them with awe as she marvelled at the majestic things it did to her bedroom.

"Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean? To a-h, daydream believer and a, homecoming queen?"

Okay fine, somethings weren't shit. But 'normal'? That definitely was.

And peace, she liked peace, but that never lasted long...

BANG!

"Lily!"

And just like that she wasn't alone.

Lily's eyes shot open as she scrambled to push the letter under her pillow, she could recognise that voice anywhere and it wouldn't do her well to go parading that letter on front of her.

Dorcas Meadowes wasn't shit. Lily had always thought so.
Dorcas Meadowes was a gift and a danger to society; everything she touched she either charmed or cursed and she had charmed Lily since the first day they had met.

"I couldn't stand being alone in that dreadful flat anymore! My bloody mother keeps trying to make me feel better and it's not working!"

She almost forgot.

Dorcas wasn't having the best of days either.

"You can't be so hard on your mum, Dorcas, she's only trying to help you."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it: Saint Lily and all that!"

By this time Dorcas was already making herself comfortable; her jacket had found a home on the floor and she was now on her own hunt to find a decent album to replace Daydream Believer as it had now begun to spin noiselessly.

Lily watched her fondly, it was hard not to look at her any other way.
Dorcas was clearly beautiful; her dark skin was soft as marshmallow and her eyes resembled melted chocolate. It was her charcoal curls that billowed in the wind on Lily's wall. In fact, she was standing next to it in that moment with the same style. Nothing had changed really, when she thought about it in enough detail.

Another thing that Lily loved about Dorcas was her plethora of style. One day she'd be all overalls and French hats, and the next was black jeans and Queen tops; somehow nothing didn't suit her.
Similar to her style, Dorcas had a personality that could start a war or melt ones soul, that contributed to the thesis that one either adored or despised her. But Lily, as per discussed, found her positively charming.

"I want something that won't remind me of her! But there's nothing that doesn't right now!" She huffed, pulling cases off the shelves haphazardly.
"Take this for example," Dorcas waved a copy of The Rolling Stones' Let It Bleed, "She took me to her house to play me this! It was the first time I'd been in her house!"

She continued to discard EPs chaotically making Lily wince at the loss of order to the shelves.
"This!" (The Bee Gees My World) "we had our first kiss when this was playing!"

Finally, (sensing that if she didn't intervene now then her bedroom might blow up in a travesty) Lily got up and snatched the vinyl out her best friend's grasp.
"Enough sulking! I know you miss Marlene but you can't turn into a blubbering mess over it! She's in boarding school– not dead– so quit acting like a war widow and let's pick some music, okay?"

Dorcas nodded. This had been the reason for her visit. As of last year, September first had become a tragedy for her as well as Lily, because today Dorcas' girlfriend, Marlene, left for boarding school and didn't return until Christmas.

Although Lily had never met Marlene she could tell they would get along. According to Dorcas, Marlene was hot-headed, clever and witty; something that Lily admired greatly.

When Lily had learnt that Dorcas was a lesbian it hadn't completely shocked her, but now it was quite difficult to imagine her pining over anyone else.

"Here, (Elton John). You like this one, don't you?" Lily didn't wait for a reply as she slipped it out the case. "This'll cheer you up– Elton John always does. And remember Marlene promised she'd be back for Christmas?"

"I know. I'm glad we're both having a shit day, aren't you?"

Lily smiled, taking her friend's hand and sitting her down on the bed, "yeah I am. Now let's mope in silence, shall we?"

"I'd love nothing more."

"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside, I'm not one of those who can, easily hide."

Dorcas' head dropped to Lily's shoulder and her tight curls tickled Lily's nose but she didn't mind; instead she kissed the top of her friend's head and breathed in the familiar aroma of honeycomb.

They were both having a shit day that September first (although Lily had to lie about the reason it was shit), but they found that if they spent it with each other they could just about get over it...

James Potter needed a cigarette. He'd gone too long without one since he'd given his last piece of magic to the seventh year head girl (who happened to be his ex girlfriend but they were on quite pleasant terms).

Platform nine ¾ was chocked full of crowds that James desperately wanted to avoid (that didn't mean to say that James was a hostile person. Merely that he'd gone to long without nicotine and that spelt danger for anyone in a metre radius to him).

The train was more of the same. People. People that knew his name and waved him a cheery hello. He danced around the fellow students with dexterity, avoiding any casualties. James was not feeling cheery. He needed a cigarette.

He passed a fair share of infatuated girls too; girls that he would usually entertain with a wink or a seductive smile but he wasn't in the mood. To the girls this might have made him seem delectably aloof but in reality he was just having withdrawals. As earlier discussed: he needed a cigarette.

He knew where he would find one too, and so that was his first and only destination. He was headed to the farthest compartment in the second carriage: the marauders compartment. There, he would find his best friend (and cigarette supply) Sirius Black.

Being well known within Hogwarts had many advantages. For example the pretty girls waving at him and the nice blokes nodding at him, but in that moment (as he was feeling particularly flagrantly pissed off) his favourite advantage of being an elite student of Hogwarts was the way that students seemed to jump out his way as he passed them, eager to please the school prankster's ring leader. This gave him a clearer route to his carriage and he didn't risk coming across as impertinent in doing so.

As he drew closer to his destination he finally let himself smile (quite a dishy smile one might say). His nicotine addiction would suffer no more; he even managed to wink at Daniella Cortez when she shot him a dazzling grin.

The door to the Marauders compartment was slightly ajar when he reached it and there was only one person inside. Just the person he was looking for.

"Thank fuck."

Sirius grinned at him when he opened the door, his moonlight-grey eyes glittering with jovial happiness at the company.

"Right you: cigarette. I'm choking here!"

Sirius chuckled, leaning back from his position spread across two seats in an apathetic manner, twirling a lock of ebony black hair between his finger.
"Hmm, and what will I get in return?"

"You'll get to keep your nose attached to your face."

Sirius barked rambunctiously, "can't argue with that. You owe me." He tossed James a cigarette as he sat down next to him. He caught it with ease, clapping his hands together and the cigarette landed in between. He took his wand out from his dark, Muggle jeans and lit the tip; from there he was finally able to take a drag from the celestial smoke. (True to his favourite ABBA song, smoking really was his only vice.)

"Needed that?"

James scoffed, "understatement of the century Mr Padfoot, Understatement, of the century."

Sirius laughed jocosely, "I see."

"I'm glad you do."

Neither of them spoke for a while, each consumed in their own world (which was currently being built around a cigarette).

Sirius broke the silence first. He had always been the type of person to despise the quiet. Usually James was the same but sometimes a guy just wants a bit of peace and a smoke.

"Sixth year, huh?"

James looked up, and grinned, parading dimples that sent many woman in Hogwarts into the ground; James' problem was that he seemed to have more sex appeal than sense.

"It's gonna be the best year yet. I can feel it."

"That's the nicotine talking, Prongs."

"Oh definitely."

They laughed, forgetting anything else on the world existed but each other and a much needed fag.

"You made captain, I see? Lucky bastard." Sirius nodded to the Quidditch Captain badge James was twirling skilfully between his fingers.

"I prefer talented bastard." James corrected acerbically, "luck had jack to do with it."

"That'll be right. You've been after Feeney's job since fourth year, and as soon as the bugger graduates you swoop in and throw your hat in the ring." Sirius accused, taking another drag of his cigarette and watching James with a sceptical look.

"Shite. I never even asked for the job."

"Whatever."

"Jealous."

"Too right I am. I better be getting a free pass back onto the team this year," Sirius quipped (only half kidding). Sirius had played Beater since fourth year, two years after James made the team as chaser.

"Indeed you will not! You'll try out with the rest of the team you chancer! I don't see Marlene or Esme-Leigh trying to wangle their free pass?"

"That's because they ain't here!" He argued, throwing his cigarette butt out the only now moving train.

"Even so, I'll be willing to bet you they won't ask me."

"You have too much faith in them, Prongs."

James shook his head. Sometimes Sirius could get on ones nerves quite successfully. It was a skill, an art-form, most likely developed from the years he'd spent doing his best to piss off his parents.

"Even if they did try it, it'd be falling on deaf ears because I ain't giving any special cases, alright? I intend on keeping this post."

"Blow hard!

"Prick."

For a short moment they watched the hills roll by. Somewhere down the line they had forgotten to appreciate the beauty of their trip to Hogwarts and now that it was their penultimate trip here they were filled with nostalgia. James' previous mood had evaporated and he was back to his lithe, deft and debonair ways. A sudden urge for firewiskey consumed him: he felt like a celebration.

"You all set for the MPP this year too?"

James nodded, feeling overcome with a sense of pride at the mention of the MPP. James, ever since he was little, had been gifted with a very aggressive passion for the injustices of the world. And so the MPP (or the Magical Prejudice Protection as it was sometimes known) was his way of stamping out the injustice he saw in anyway he saw fit. His mother worked in a similar sector in the Ministry and so he had been inspired by her to expand her work to Hogwarts and for two years the MPP had been growing strong.

At first they had dealt with the mistreatment of Muggleborns but soon it had branched out to be a protection for all minorities. Two and a half years ago James had been shocked to find out that some (but by no means all) Muggleborns and Halfbloods had issues with the queer members of the student body. This had confused him to the point where he had felt scandalised for days; being from a pureblood background he had never even heard of such a thing as homophobia until a third year pureblood (a lesbian by the name Hazel Abbot) had come to him, tear stained, claiming that fifth year boys had called her a dyke in the courtyard. And after a reasonable amount of spluttering at the pure atrocity of the situation, James –instead of dealing with it properly like he was meant to– much preferred the method of punching them each in their respectable ugly faces and landing one of them in the hospital wing with a cracked tooth and another with a dislocated jaw. So it was safe to say that the MPP had a slight reputation for having a rather rash take on things.

"It's raring to go. That is assuming you're helping again this year?"

"That depends," said Sirius, wolfishly, "on whether I'm on the quidditch team or not?"

"Well played. You win," James admitted, flinging his own cigarette butt out the moving train.
"Anyway, how's your 'finding a good shag' mission going?"

"Ahh, finally something interesting with talking about: me. Is the door shut?"

James glanced over at the door and nodded, "go well:"

It was clear Sirius enjoyed dramatic effect because every breath he took he savoured, evilly enjoying the thick tension he'd created.
"Well," he dragged out the L sound for longer than would be considered normal. Sirius often did this: draw out his aphorisms to sound more clever and more than anything to annoy the hell out of whoever would listen.

"Well," he repeated, "I've had my eye on a lovely man recently, and I think you know him well."

James smirked, aberrantly, "don't tell me? Peter!"

"What?! No!" Sirius' ostentatious excitement and suspense had fizzled with James' quip.
"Remus!"

James didn't say anything. His usual obnoxiously loquacious demeanour crashed and burned into the floor. Now that he'd thought about it, Remus made sense. Buckets of sense. He was like a scale set for Sirius; calm when Sirius was excited, collected when he was stressed, understated when he was audacious. But they weren't totally paradox to each other; they both had the same sense of humour, the same cynical attitude to most things and a similar outlook on life (which often meant sitting in a public area and slagging off the outfits of the people passing them by).

"Wow... Remus?... Moony?"

"No, another Remus! How many do you know?"

"One. Our Remus."

"Exactly."

"Hmm..." James sighed, pondering his words carefully, "Remus... makes sense."

Sirius grinned, the sparkle in his eyes gleaming with something other than mischief.

James smirked, knowingly.

They would be perfect.

Breaking up their private function was none other than the man himself: Remus Lupin. All six feet and two inches of him found it's way into the compartment only slightly awkwardly.

"Oh!" James raised an eyebrow, "speaking of: afternoon Moony, we were just having the most interesting conversation about you, isn't that right Pads?"

Sirius went sheet white, "no," he choked. His usual air of nonchalance completely disappearing by the drop of a hat (or the arrival of Remus Lupin if one wanted to look at it in a literal sense).

"Okay then," Remus chuckled, taking his seat next to James, in order to prevent Sirius from having to take his legs off the other seats.

"How was prefect meetings?"

"Oh you know, same old shite as per. Don't let the kids shag in closets. Don't kill anyone –that sort of thing."

Sirius and James couldn't help but share a small splutter of laughter. Something in the way in which Remus spoke seemed to make even the most trivial and boring thing come to life with humour. Contrasting to popular belief, Remus was actually wildly amusing.

"Ah yes: the basics, I see." Padfoot waved a (
dismissive hand as if to signal a topic change, "anyhow, how's the furry little problem? Running smoothly?" Of course Sirius was referring to the lycanthropy of his friend (and ultimately the reason for such a nickname such as Moony).

"Coming among well enough. I'm not dead yet."

"We can but hope," James smirked, receiving a swift kick in the shin for his crimes which he had now taken to complaining about for longer than any normal person would deem necessary. Things continued much the same to this until a new party interrupted proceedings...

"Is James being a git again?"

"How did you know?"

Marlene McKinnon grinned as she slipped through the sliding door, revealing her utterly sublime person in all its glory.
Marlene was the type of girl that would have been beautiful with very little effort, but she put in enough effort despite that and it made her appear almost celestially pretty. Her hair was the colour of a Mediterranean beach and her eyes were the same as the ocean itself.
But despite her epic beauty it was her fearful, shameless manner that made men and woman swoon at her majesty. Every single move she made seemed calculated and full of purpose; everything she said was worth listening too and she'd be caught dead before she'd be caught stuttering. Marlene was what one could only describe as a force of nature; if one was to upset her then they would expect a dislocated jaw by sundown and she had gained the respect of most of the student body for that soul reason.

She sat down uninvited (although no one had to invite Marlene anywhere) and shifted Sirius' legs off the extra space in the process and hence became the only individual in existence brave enough to do so.

"I know everything, Remus." She replied eventually.
It didn't take long for Marlene to break up their lapse in conversation with a pestering exclamation of her boredom. (This was a shared quality with James in particular and it made them long lasting childhood companions. Many a day together had been blossomed from their shared boredom).

"Me too."

"Dandy." She spat sarcastically, drawing an end to the conversation and laying it to rest. She lay back nonchalantly lifting one hand to fix the black eyeliner that winged out from the blue of her irises.
"So," she began, "who'll get the firstie this year, you guys reckon?"

This had been a routine question of inquiry the past years ever since the Lily Evans fiasco (or the 'Muggleborn Phenomenon' as it is sometimes called) the new group of first years had sunk into the ground as muggleborns like the mystic Lily Evans had stopped attending school. Whichever house got the first muggleborn student was always superstitiously destined to lose the house cup.

"Ravenclaw for sure. It was us last year and Hufflepuff before. And I doubt it'll be Slytherin, dunno why." Remus said with a mild frown. "Its all shite anyway, Mar."

Marlene sneered, "well at least it beats sitting in this funeral-like atmosphere. For a prankster cliche you really do know how to bum a girl out." She stretched out and helped herself to Sirius' packet of cigarettes that were sitting on his lap.

"As you please, McKinnon!" He scoffed jeeringly.

"Much obliged Mr Padfoot," she replied, "anyway, you've always been shit at the guessing game!"

"I am not!"

"Tell that to the ten galleons you gave me last year."

"You guys cheat!" Sirius protested hot-headedly, pointing at her and shaking his finger in disgust.

Remus was about to chime in but was mildly enjoying the pettiness of the whole situation (and truth be told there was something about the soul-crushing normality of hearing Sirius complain that made him feel at home again after three months of Sirius-free torture). Although now, due to his mind's sabbatical he had clearly missed chunks of this conversation because the next thing he heard was Sirius screeching:

"Peter does not do better than me!" His tone had escalated from insinuating to scandalised by this point.

"He does."

"Marlene I will strangle you."

"I could be into that."

"You have a girlfriend."

"I'm still bi!

"And I'm still gay."

"I'm not into it anyway."

"Then shut up."

"Duly noted."

This had continued for longer than was absolutely necessary, driving James and Remus to the near point of suicide before one of them had to intervene. Eventually it was James that did...

"Do you ever think about Lily Evans?"

"What?!"

James shuffled in his seat, sitting up straighter to address the group.
"Don't you ever wonder what happened to her? If she still has no idea who she is, if she ever even got a letter?"

The group went quiet for a few strangled moments. James eyed his friends curiously, his usual vivacity had faded from his hazel eyes; he'd thought about this question without fail every year but he rarely voiced it.

"I mean. If it wasn't for her I reckon there'd be a much bigger muggleborn presence in Hogwarts but... I mean what's the point in thinking too hard on it?" Marlene shrugged, leaning over to Remus so he could light the cigarette between her teeth for her.

"Well I just think it's unfair." James retaliated, "I mean, she could have been brilliant, you know? She could have been the best quidditch player the world had seen, she could have invented a life changing potion, she could have found a way to evade the sodding killing curse and we'd be none the wiser because she never even got a chance!"

"Neither do all the other muggleborns— or muggles or whatever."

"They're neither, really," Remus interjected, "Muggles in theory perhaps? Anyway, I'm more worried about Snatchers than Lily Evans in particular."

Snatchers had been a grave topic of conversation as well over the years since the beginning of the 'Muggleborn Phenomenon' began.
The ministry had first been made aware of Snatchers two years after Lily Evans when it became clear that there was a link to the disappearances of Muggleborns not attending Hogwarts. Snatchers were a nasty business, mainly because it was impossible to locate them. Nobody knew what they looked like, where they stayed or even what their goal was. Some theorised that they were used as soldiers for the Death Eaters, others thought it was to harvest their magic but one thing was for sure. Snatchers were no joke. They were extremely dangerous, and until they were somehow caught, muggleborns would continue to live in oblivious peril until it was too late...

"Did you read the paper?" Sirius asked soberly, his eyes clouded with a morose look.

James nodded, "Two more: six year old twins from Manchester. That's three in the month including the five year old from Kent. It's getting worse."

Marlene sighed, "I wonder if they'd be better off in Hogwarts or out? Unaware of attack or head-on subjected to it all?"

No body replied. It seemed the question was rectorial anyway.

"I love coming in here, it's a rare laugh."
The group looked up to see two more bodies enter the compartment, and thus drag their group to completion.
Peter Pettigrew came first, his lemon-blonde curls had been cut shorter over the summer but apart from that he was still the same freckled, gangly, (slightly) tepid boy that had left them the previous summer. He offered them an apologetic smile as he slipped into a seat next to Remus and James, although the apology was not on behalf of himself, but of the other person to enter the compartment and evidently the speaker. Esme-Leigh Bisset.

Esme-Leigh took a seat next to Marlene, her best friend, and grinned at her company. Despite the morbid ambiance in the room, something about Esme-Leigh had always been like taking straight serotonin to most people surrounding her. That didn't mean to say she was always happy-go-lucky (she wasn't friends with Marlene for nothing), if someone deserved a punch then the usually got one but, contrasting to Marlene, Esme-Leigh preferred to play a long game when it came to revenge: she often found it gave her more satisfaction than jaw-dislocating or hexing-till-dismemberment like her best friend clearly preferred.

"Oh har har!" Sirius quipped, hiding his cigarette packet away in his pocket (although he needn't had bothered– neither Peter, nor Esme smoked).

"What were you talking about anyway?— actually no, don't tell me. I'm in a good mood and I'm sure I'd much rather play exploding snap. I've got a new deck since Remus singed the last one in a fit of rage like the sore loser that he is." Esme winked at Remus and pulled aforementioned exploding snap deck out her bag, curls of blue-purple hair entangled in her silver-wire glasses as she rummaged. Something worth noting about Esme-Leigh was her inability to be practical; although not at all clumsy, she just spent more time running around after forgotten textbooks that she spent actually reading from them. Being a metapmorphagus didn't do this quality any favours and she would often turn up to her father's (a Muggle) local parish with coral pink hair. Today, however it was short and it was blue: the way she wore it most often, and a way that framed her mind-bogglingly saccharine complexion.

"I am not a bad loser!"

"You are," Peter shrugged and nodded matter-of-factly; seemingly unable to decide if he was supposed to be arguing the affirmative or negative, Peter had always been a follower and so he generally did what kept most peace in the world.

"Fuck you all."

"Charming."

Esme had finished dealing their cards by the end of the Remus-bashing-spat and had proceeded to make the first move. Esme had quite a lot on common with Marlene but one thing she differed over was her flawless ability to cheat at exploding snap; she shared this quality with Sirius and so when she placed down her card she clicked her tongue in a manner that Sirius seemed to pick up immediately. Vexed, Marlene grumbled.
"You can't cheat!"

"Yes we can."

Marlene hated cheating of any from.
"You do this every time! It's no fun if you cheat! Last time we played you spoke French to each other as communication! It's not on!"

Sirius smirked, recalling that particular memory. Being brought up a Black he had spoken French his whole life, as did half-French Esme-Leigh and so they often used this to their advantage (it came particularly in handy when slagging off Slytherins).

"It is on. We're just using our skills to disposal. I don't see you speaking Italian, wasn't that the McKinnon language of choice?" Esme-Leigh grinned, peering over her cards at James who had engaged in a fierce game of staring chicken with her as he placed his card down on top of Marlene's.

"That's because no one else here happens to speak Italian, Ez!"

"That's a shame," Esme smiled vivaciously, seeming to know exactly what card Remus was about to put down before he did. The stack blew up, smoke covering Remus' face and some of the aftershock catching Esme-Leigh (but that's was easily sorted when she ran her hand through her hair and let it turn deep purple).

"SHIT!"

Sirius was on the floor in fits of wracking laughter, pathetic to the heart he wore on his sleeve.

"Well that was shite. That only lasted about ten minutes. Rack 'em up again?" James gathered the cards back up and shuffled them with expertise that no-one else seemed to posses.

"Don't see why not."

The next game was much better in everyone's opinion. No cheating (or none as far as anyone was aware) and no childish squabbling. They continued to play until they reached Hogwarts, Lily Evans far from their minds...

Lily's mind, however, could not have been any closer to them if she tried...

Hey guys! Hope you liked the first chapter!

A few things to clear up:
I saw this headcanon on instagram that being gay was completely normal and accepted in the pureblood world and I couldn't get it out of my head so I decided to use it!

Also I'm not sure if it's canon or not that Mrs Potter was a charity worker/peace worker but I've seen it a lot so I imagined that it rubbed off on James- hence the MMP!

Anyway! Hope you like it! Chapter two will be coming as soon as possible!

Love you all,

Abbi ♥️