This chapter is dedicated to JilyShips69 just to prove to him that I'm not dead. Sorry for taking a million years to reply to messages!
♥️♥️♥️

(4th March 1978)

Time is not real- and yet it is a gulf between them. Time ticks by in its peripheral way, marking the days, the weeks, as if they mean something; and yet the only way to measure moments passing seems to be time. Time waits for no man, settles no quarrel, and heals no wounds– at least not these wounds.

Esme-Leigh knew it probably wasn't the best way to spend her morning, but it helped to know he was okay. She sat on the roof of one of the many corners of Hogwarts castle. One that gave her a clear view of the lake, and of the budding spring around it.

March had brought a new sense of aspiration to the world. Plants began to dream of flowering and the sun dared to shine warmer. The winds no longer howled, but whistled hopeful tunes instead, blowing air that wasn't bitter and spiteful, but new and jovial.

But March brought nothing of the sort for Esme-Leigh Bisset. It was almost as if March had forgotten she were there, and left her behind in its efforts to change the world around her. She watched the seasons change, from on top of the roof, watching but not participating. Much like the rest of her life.

But for now, Esme-Leigh was content to be left behind, time had set its limits, and it was running out as far as she was concerned. She had set herself a target: find a reason to stay by Easter, or go to France. Yet, ever since her failed date with James, now exactly a fortnight ago, she had effectively given up. Time was running out –and just like the season's change– she was electing to let it do so without her.

Esme-Leigh watched many things without hope that morning. But the reason she was there was to see him. They hadn't spoken, but she'd watched him– James. He was running around the lake at a leisurely pace, becoming almost part of the setting around him, the scenery. It hits Esme then, that James runs unaffected, although she's heard from Aliona that he is. Apparently he's more miserable than he was before their date, and it makes Esme feel even more selfish than she did before. Because her selfishness, and her eagerness for a reason, lead her here, making James miserable by being someone he can't love.

Since they were thirteen and old enough to know that love was important, the world around them had managed to convince them that they should love each other. They were pretty, they were friends, they were popular. Somewhere along the line it begun to mean something; and somewhere along the line a tether had formed, convincing them that one day they would end up together, just like everyone had said. And one day they would be old, and people would say 'I told you so' and they would smile and nod, in love because they were told so.

But she had kissed him, and the fireworks didn't blow, and the love didn't pour from her chest, and nothing happened. And just like that, everything they had been told was stripped away from them; their unspoken tether was broken, they weren't in love. No matter who told them so.

After that night they didn't speak. Marlene had been avoiding Esme too, but braving it in the Head's dorm, Esme didn't know if she was speaking to James either, probably not. But they hadn't spoken, and yet she still wanted to be near him. Even if they weren't in love– even if they couldn't be in love, she still loved him, in a sense. So she watched him run round the Black Lake, bleeding into March around them. Into a new beginning in which they were not so naive as to think they might one day be in love.

Something was in the air.

Time ticked by. Esme-Leigh watched it pass.

♣ ♣ ♣

(4th March 1978 continued)

The common room is a quiet buzz of people who decided to spend their lunch hour here instead of the great hall. Esme-Leigh sits among them, writing a letter to her cousin Thierry in Paris, a letter she should have written a week ago but writing in French makes her think too much about the decision that edges closer...

"Esme?"

The voice is familiar. It's one she would know anywhere. It belongs to her best friend.

"Marlene," her voice is breathy like the wind outside, disbelief thick in her throat. They hadn't spoken in two weeks, but Marlene smiles a broken smile– something tired but warm twinkles in the blue rings of her eyes.

"Do you mind if we talk?"

Hesitantly, Esme-Leigh shakes her head.
"Non, s'asseoir."

Marlene sits and folds her hands in her lap, clenching them and unclenching them, then sitting on them. She turns to look Esme in the eye. Her eyes are green today, dark, dark green, like mint. They match her brown hair, rich like bitter chocolate. She hasn't worn blue hair since she talked to James. It'll be a while before it stops hurting to wear blue, the colour it was the day the tether they shared was cut.

"I want to ask you something."

"I'll answer."

Marlene shifted closer but did not remove her hands from behind her thighs, her school skirt dipped between her slightly parted legs and Esme thinks about how it will crease. Marlene is no good at ironing charms and Esme died with the effort of not offering to take the job. She did most of the domestic charms for the girls dorm, and occasionally she would perform the same charms around the Head Girl's dormitory, but she hasn't in a fortnight and it's beginning to show.

"Did you know? All along, did you know how it would end?"

It wasn't difficult to know exactly what Marlene meant, and the answer burned her tongue but it needed to be said.
"Yes. Yes, I knew, of course I did."

"Then..."

"You want me to explain?"

Marlene nodded, shaking her head a little to put her blonde her over her shoulder, her hands remained under her shirt, trapped beneath her legs.

Esme took a breath, "okay." A deep breath, no cigarette to pull from but she breathed like it.
"D'accord. Alright. I'll tell you. I knew all along that James was in love with Lily, it wasn't hard to notice, though I doubt he has. But I asked him out anyway, and I went on the date anyway, because I don't know who I am anymore."

Esme-Leigh sat forward, refusing to meet the gaze of her best friend, instead watching the fire that was surely making the common room too hot.
"I was being selfish and I wanted to see though this stupid fucking idea that we were supposed to end up together, but it's hopeless. And Marlene I don't know who I am anymore, okay. I don't fucking know. And maybe being with James made me feel like I had an idea? Maybe he reminds me of the girl I used to be? The girl that hadn't had her growth spurt and didn't know how to carry her limbs and extra weight. Being with James reminds me of being the silly girl that would kiss him on a dare at a quidditch victory party." Esme sighed, carrying more than the absence of a cigarette.
"Being with James it...it takes me back to when I was fifteen, and learning how the real world works– back when I was cute but not hot; back when I didn't get jealous looks from girls because of my veela blood; back when boys would think I was a stupid girl with waxspurts and not a prize."

Marlene said nothing, waiting for the final thing, and she knew it was coming. Esme-Leigh took another breath and Marlene's hand came from under her thighs to envelop Esme's.

She spoke in whispers, barely intelligible among the soft conversation around the common room and the light crackle of the fire. But Marlene sat close and shielded the world away.
"Being with him reminded me of the times when I didn't know that dreaming of kissing the girls in your dorm wasn't normal," her whispers were cloaked with shame, with regret, with something else.
"Marlene, it's like I'm who I used to be, back when I was someone I liked, rather than somebody everyone else likes." Esme-Leigh turned and they locked eyes.
"I want something to be wrong! Why can't I just do something wrong, dammit?!" A tear slipped down her porcelain skin, cutting into the freckles on her cheeks.

Just as her sighs needed a cigarette, so did her quiet sobs, her small tears. So Marlene produced a packet from her robes, slipping one into Esme's hand as she lit her own.

"I don't normally smoke."

Marlene made a gesture.
"You don't usually cry in the middle of the afternoon. Take a cigarette, Esme, and we'll chat."

And so they talked. And they missed potions, but they left as friends.

♣ ♣ ♣

(6th March 1978)

"Sirius?"

Normally Sirius would ignore this particular voice, because it usually lead to something horrific and a hospital wing visit. But there was a hint of remorse in the aforementioned voice that called him that night, in the middle of the third floor corridor. Sirius wouldn't make a habit of splitting up with his prefect patrol partner (MPP members on patrol were usually given strict instruction not to split up from prefects, but Sirius happened to find Daniel Gilbert– the fifth year Ravenclaw– a prick, so that score was settled).

Slowly, he turned, to face Regulus Black, looking at him with disbelief.
"Sirius, I..."

"You what?"

Regulus was taller than Sirius remembered, in fact, if they weren't standing so far apart, Sirius thought his little brother might actually be taller than him, but his eyes were the same stormy grey, like clouds ominously slipping over an afternoon sky, promising thunder to follow.

"I heard your mates aren't talking after their date."

Sirius jerked his head impatiently, storms swirling in his own irises fit to mirror his junior brother.

"Yes, well, some of them have worked things out. We'll see. That's not what you're here to discuss however?"

"There's something you should know."

"What should I know, Reggie?"
The nickname was childish and Regulus had persisted he'd outgrown the name when he turned thirteen, but it only made Sirius wish to call him by it more often. So for the past three years, Reggie it had been.

Regulus ran a hand through his hair, not quite in the way James would. Prongs would tug on the ends, then massage the base of his neck while wearing an expression like a window. But Regulus was trained a Black; he hid the nervous tick under the guise of actually fixing his hair, and his eyes were the only thing portraying any emotion. There was a storm brewing.

"You should be careful. All of you."

"Are you threatening me?" Sirius accused, "is that what's happening?"

"No! I'm... I'm trying to- to warn you."

Sirius felt like tugging out his own hair.
"About what?!"

"Just keep a close eye on your loved ones, Sirius, alright? Promise me?"

Sirius frowned, his brother was wearing a look that indicated his words were meant to mean more than he'd intended them to.
"Promise you, why?"

"I can't... goodbye Sirius."

"Reggie—"

But Regulus Black was gone. The storm still brewed in his eyes. Perhaps there would be thunder...

♣ ♣ ♣

(6th March 1978 continued)

James was in the boy's dorm when Sirius arrived back after his strange conversation with his brother.

"Finished sulking yet? Or do you need another week?"

The Head Boy looked up from his reclining position on his four poster and displayed his longest finger to Sirius.
"Sulking is a thing of the past, Padfoot."

"Good. So before we start planning your birthday prank– can you actually tell us why you've been acting like someone drowned your pet niffier?" Remus asked from his own four-poster, the book he'd been reading closed over on his lap.

Peter checked his watch, "it's still before midnight. You're lucky, Moony."

Remus shot Peter a questioning look.

"Well, if it was after twelve then technically it would be the morning. And there's no sarcasm before noon."

Moony grinned, "excellent point, Pete. Now, down to important matters: James, you need to tell us now. I don't care if you don't want to. You've had a fortnight to brood like a rebellious teenager."

Suddenly James realised all the eyes in the dorm were on him. Peter's watery blue, Remus' glowing amber, and Sirius' stormy grey– hiding something that James was sure would become clear later.
"Fine."

And so he told them everything. About his date with Esme-Leigh; about how they failed to be the love the other was looking for; about how they kissed and felt less than a spark; about how they hadn't talked since and how he wishes to merlin they could go back to being friends.

The other marauders listened while James spoke, his heart laid to rest with the story. The holes already beginning to mend.

When he was finished, it was Remus that spoke first, his gentle demeanour promising what he was about to say to be true but unpopular.
"You're not going to like what I'm about to say." He commented, rather unnecessarily.

"Try me, Moony."

"Alright," Remus pushed himself up so he sat on the edge of his bed, facing James, moonlight shrouding half his face. "You need to tell Lily. I know you two aren't together, but you made a promise, that when you're both ready, you might be able to give it a go, but now you've gone on a hedonistic rampage and she deserves to know that. I know you don't owe her anything, but even if you mention it in passing. If you don't tell her she'll be upset."

For a pregnant moment, James said nothing, then a small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.
"You're right, Remus."

"About what?"

"I don't like what you've just said."

The four boys shared a laugh, something beautiful and multicoloured.

"But I know you're right. I'm not stupid."

"Just sleep on it," Peter added, the optimism in his voice was sweet and nourishing.

"If sleep is what they're calling staring at the ceiling nowadays." James chimed, expression not amused.

"Pete?" Remus asked, an uncharacteristic sanguine smirk on his lips.

"It's five past twelve."

Remus turned to James with a self satisfied grin at being able to say this to someone else.
"No sarcasm before noon, Prongs!"

"Well played."

♣ ♣ ♣

(7th March 1978)

It always astounded James how Remus seemed to be able to fit such long, gangly limbs into one of the common room's tiny armchairs. He could sit there for hours, a book in his lap and a cup of tea in his hands, held between the sleeves of his jumper so as not to burn his skin. Somehow he could stay there, and not be debilitatingly stiff when he finally did decide to move (though perhaps he just lived in a perpetual state of stiffness.) Often, Sirius would join him, sitting on the floor with his back propped up on his boyfriend's legs, doing the crossword, or something uncharacteristically domestic for Sirius fucking Black. Sometimes it was Esme-Leigh that would join him –though these days it was less often– she, too, possessed a power to fold herself like a cat into his lap and read over his shoulder, not bothering him in the slightest. He still would not move.

But today it was James that sat down to join him. He wasn't Sirius, so he didn't feel like he belonged at Remus' feet, leaning against him. That felt reserved, like a lover (or a very loyal dog, James remarked to himself); and he didn't think it appropriate to curl into Remus' lap like Esme-Leigh might. And so he settled for perching on the arm of the chair.

Remus looked up, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he saw James.
"Prongs? To what do I owe this pleasure? I thought you had quidditch practice?"

"That's still for an hour."

Remus nodded, his sandy hair moving with him. His eyes were twinkling with knowledge in the way James' mother's eyes used to do. He seemed to be constantly thinking, wheels always turning in the back of his mind.

"Is that tea still hot?" James asked.

"Not at the minute, no."

"Give it here," James said, taking the mug from him and casting a heating charm over it. He moved from the arm of Remus' chair as he did so, and left the mug floating in the air, where it multiplied into two, one mug floating towards James and the other staying in front of Remus.

"Ta."

"Don't mention it," James waved a hand as he took a sip of his own tea, which he noticed was surprisingly sweet, considering Remus took coffee as black and bitter as one possibly could.

James regarded Remus for a moment, over the rim of his mug. His eyes were amber and astute; his cheeks were rosy and freckled ever so slightly; and there was something overbearingly comfortable about being around Remus. He wasn't a mother hen by any means, though he reminded James of his own mother. Remus was perfectly capable of being self destructive in numerous creative ways, but he hated to permit the same of his friends. Which was why James had come to seek him out that particular, slow, afternoon...

"I thought I'd come and find you," James began, the slowness of their conversation mimicking the dull rain that pattered against the windows outside– halfhearted and lonely.

"I wasn't hiding."

"All the same."

"Well, here I am." A sip of his tea.

"Here you are." Again, there was a pause, but the quiet wasn't awkward, it was quiet.
"I thought I'd find you first, save you the effort."

"Oh?" Remus took a sip of his tea, watching with a passive interest, eyes flickering towards the rain, it was nearly playful in the way it rapped the window every so often, keen for attention.

"I thought I'd let you put your two cents in now, before I go to practise so I can brood it over. I know you'd come to find me eventually and tell me what it is I'm doing wrong, and how you're suggesting I fix it. Because you do the same with all of us. Even Sirius when he bothers to listen, I think, in fact, you might be the only person that Sirius takes advice off."

"Well, that certainly explains why the boy's so desperately fucked."

"And in love with you." James quipped, sarcastically.

Remus blushed, looking away.
"That's neither here nor there."

James grinned and Remus ignored him.

"Fine," he said eventually, "you want me to weigh in now? Have you had enough of Marlene?"

"All I'd get from Marls is anger. I've got enough of that myself."

Remus nodded, the steam rising gently off his mug like the smoke off a cigarette.
"Alright then. Honestly? Lily deserves to know. I told you a couple nights back but you weren't listening to me. Not really. But all Marlene is going to say is that you're a prick. And while I won't contradict her, I will offer that she has yet to apply to the ministry for permission to tell Dorcas she's a witch. I'll leave that conversation up to you or Esme-Leigh. All I'm saying is, everyone has something. A weak spot. Yours is Lily, Marlene's his her girl. You and her are already halfway back to being friends."

James smiled, Marlene would be stubborn, but she loved the world around her, it just angered her when it wasn't as good, and honest, and kind as she knew it could be. So the thought that she'd been avoiding applying to the ministry worried James, he thought she would have been delighted that Dorcas was of muggle age to tell her the truth.

"And Esme," Remus went on, snapping James back to the knowing eyes of his friend.
"You haven't talked to her yet but you need to. Friendship is more important than awkwardness." He tipped the mug towards James, "you heated my tea for me. You do that for your friends, James– that's the sort of person you are. And Esme-Leigh needs someone to do the same for her, I can tell. So even if the cold tea was your fault, doesn't mean you shouldn't warm it up."

"But I still duplicated your mug and took some myself."

"Well that refers to my earlier point; you're a prick."

"Sometimes I wonder if I love or hate you, Moony."

"It doesn't matter, as long as I'm right."

James grinned, "well played," he saluted while standing up, about to get ready to practise before he stopped short; "and what's your weak spot?"

"Pardon?"

"You said we all have a weak spot. What's yours then?"

"Mine? My furry little problem, of course! Three days until it comes out. I'm enjoying that clear head I get before the sickness starts."

James laughed, clapping Remus on the shoulder and waving his wand at the duplicated mug, allowing it to disappear once more.
"We'll enjoy it, Mr Moony. I'm going to see where your boyfriend is before he's late for practice. Again."

"Take the map."

He tapped his pocket.

"Ah. Well, Mr Prongs: good luck."

With that, Remus went back to his book and James was left to ponder if the 'good luck' was for finding Sirius, or everything else.

He was leaning towards the latter.

♣ ♣ ♣

(7th March 1978 continued)

After practise, James found Marlene in the changing rooms, hair still wet frown the shower and wearing a fresh quidditch jersey. She looked like she used to during the summer months, he realised, when they would play quidditch in the yard of Potter Manor, or football in the garden of Potter House. Her expression unguarded, juvenile in the euphoria the sport seemed to give her.

He loved Marlene most when she was like that. Her unguarded self, free, unhindered, almost wild. She was like that at McKinnon Manor sometimes, they would get a quidditch game with her brothers going, years ago before they'd moved out and they were still just children. They could spend hours outside, just being free.

James leant against the wall, careful not to disturb the smile on Marlene's face as she towel dried her hair, a grin on her cheeks from the excitement quidditch gave her. In that moment, James knew just how right Remus was. But he also knew that Marlene deserved an apology too, she was right and deserved to be told as much– and if Marlene rubbed it in his face then at least he knew their relationship hadn't changed.

"Marls?"

Marlene turned, the liberated look on her face hit the floor, taking James' heart with it.
"Captain."

"Practice is over, Marlene."

The Head Girl said nothing, but turned to face him fully, her eyes carrying curiosity more than hostility. A welcome difference.

"I came to say sorry. You know you were right and so do I. Can we move on? Because I feel like I've lost a limb more than a sister, and I'd rather not talk about what happened with Ez anymore. You were right, as you always are."

James watched with pleading hazel eyes as she scanned him with her own, irises shining like the depths of the ocean.

"As long as I can remind you of this conversation at every possible time it may arise?"

Grinning, James nodded, "granted, of course." He pushed off the wall to see Marlene's smile letting in the sunshine.

"C'mere, we've got Heads work to do."

Marlene laughed, walking into his arms and pulling him closer, the smell of soap and quidditch fresh on his skin and in her hair.
"Let's get out of here, Prongs. People might talk– the way you're working through the women of seventh year, they'll think I'm next."

"Too soon, McKinnon, too soon."

Marlene laughed raucously, "it's never too soon, m'love. Never."

James joined her peals of laughter as he threw an arm around her shoulder on the way out the changing rooms.
"Well let them talk. You're miles out of my league so I'd enjoy the reputation."

"Too soon."

"Fuck off!"

They laughed so hard they nearly fell over, multiple times, on the way back to the castle.

♣ ♣ ♣

(8th March 1978)

The two newly reconciled Head Students were sitting together by the fire in their office, filling out reports, when the Head Girl decided to broach the subject she daren't yesterday.

"You should tell Lily. About your failed bullshit with Esme-Leigh, I mean."

For a very long time, James did not look up.
"I know. Remus said the same."

"But he won't follow through. So I'm saving him the trouble."

This intrigued James enough to look up and meet Marlene's eye, "what?"

"I'm setting you a deadline. If you don't tell her then I will."

Time stopped dead as he snapped his head up to see the perfectly serious look on her face.
"When?" James choked.

"Sunday."

"Fuck."

"Fuck. Now, Minnie needs that report tonight otherwise one of us will have to supervise that detention and I don't have that sort of time."

James chuckled, the sort that shook his body but did not omit any noise.
"Fine. I'll tell her, I'll go this week, I swear it."

"Alright Potter."

"Good."

"Get back to work."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your Head Girl and I said so."

"I'm tired."

"Shouldn't have trained us so hard, then."

"You are one twisted woman."

"Love you as well."

A peal of laughter sounded around the office like the laugh of a bell.

♣ ♣ ♣

(10th March 1978)

It was fairly obvious a week ago that Esme-Leigh should have talked to James. But the air was too thick, and there was a blanket of feeling coating him, something she did not want to undress.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was the only class they sat beside each other, but he wasn't watching her with the same interest she was observing him with. Instead, his eyes held favour over the window, during their last period of the day, they sun was almost about to set, and there was something golden and orange out the light, blazing like a peach in summer, one that had been left out by the window to ripen to a soft aurum colour.

James was watching this beginning of a sunset with such reverence that she thought he might have found divine power in the last five minutes. There was a distance in his expression, the world was a million miles away and he didn't want the rejoin it.

Esme was more interested him now, studying the way his mouth was turned up ever so slightly, like he was sharing a secret joke with himself. And his eyes were burning with intensity, like a memory was flashing before his eyes, something she didn't understand but didn't want to interrupt.

She was going to talk to him, but he looked so inside himself, there was only one person he could be thinking about, and it wasn't her.

♣ ♣ ♣

(13th March 1978)

The final day on Marlene's deadline and James was tapping on Lily Evans' window.

Lily Simpson opened her curtains with a flourish, angry, but clearly expecting to see him grinning at her, like an angelic child that could possibly have done no wrong.

"Get in here and don't make a racquet, James Potter!" She hissed, opening the window and taking his arm to help pull him in.

He landed with an unceremonious, but surprisingly light, thump.
"Hey," James whispered, a grin still plastered on his face.

Lily was looking at him in the way that she does. In the way he will never be able to get out of his mind. Like she could read his soul as clearly as a summer's day. Like he'd handed it to her on a plate and served it especially.

In that second he realised he couldn't tell her about Esme-Leigh. Because she was smiling at him in the way that makes her look like a thousand shooting stars and her eyes were twinkling, and her hair was like a sunset, and her dimples. She was poetry in a person. She was a muse. She was sunshine. She was the love he wasn't allowed to feel; and he couldn't, he wouldn't allow himself to miss out on seeing that look on her face for just one more night. He'd have this last day with her, and then Marlene wound ruin it with her morality, and if she never looked at him like that again, then it would be his fault, but at least he would have spent this night pretending Lily hung the moon so she could take its place as the sun herself.

"Where too, Mr Potter?"

"Shall we go on an adventure?"

Lily grinned and James glowed. So they went.

(13th March 1978)

Lily and James stopped at a little pub in the street corner. One they'd never been before.
"Fancy a drink, m'lady?"

Lily laughed but it wasn't overly funny, she just wanted to laugh around James.
"Seen as you asked so nicely," and she took his arm and allowed him to lead her into the small enclosure.

On a night like this, it was difficult to stay angry at James for not coming round as often, his smile could end a war and she was never really that annoyed in the first place. He would write as often as he could, but somehow nothing could compare to feeling his heart hum in his chest when she drew her ear near.

"What are you drinking?"

"Well I doubt they'll have much choice."

James turned to look at her and Lily ignored the butterflies.
"What do you mean?"

Lily gestured around them to the pub they'd entered. It seemed to be a regular frequent for pensioners by a first glance of the clientele, and most of them seemed to be drinking from a select menu.

"Ahh," James nodded, a slow grin at the corner of his lips, "well it's going like the clappers in here, isn't it? How very wonderful! I was wondering why you could barely hear the jukebox for the till!"

"James!"

"Right, fine." He was still grinning but his eyes did not scream mischief anymore, as much.
"What are you drinking?"

"I'm still trying to figure out the choice."

They reached the empty bar and James turned to lean against it, surveying the room like a king on a throne.
"Hmm," he hummed, "I'm not overly sure, Lily, but I think your choices are death or whisky."

"James, oh my god!" She hissed but he only chuckled when she hit him on the chest for his misdemeanours.
"Fine, since the choice is so extensive, I'll have to go for whiskey."

As if he were listening, a middle aged barman appeared from the back room, a decently friendly smile. He looked surprised to see such a young pair in his pub for a moment but he said nothing of it. Only asked what they were drinking.

It turned out they did have whiskey, but the only choice had been scotch of irish. They sat later, in the corner of the pub, catching up on the little details of each other's lives, their voices low as they traded stories like they were secrets, or gold.

"...and then Sirius, ever the dramatist nearly managed to blame it on Myrtle! His acting was so good I think I might have believed it was her that blew up the toilets. But Minnie didn't buy it. Apparently Myrtle was elsewhere, flooding the fourth floor bathrooms, which was a shame really because that was actually a better idea."

Lily had tears streaming down her face as she struggled to keep her giggles quiet. James had been recounting a story of one of his greater pranks which involved, dying his rival house football team's hair red; barricading them in their dorms; locking the House shower rooms; and blowing up the toilets of the only other bathroom in the school that had showers, aside from the prefects room according to James, but he changed the locks before any rival house prefect could think of it.

"And you really nearly pulled that off?"

"We did pull that off! We just needed to pay for it in three weeks worth of detention!"

"Uh-huh."

"I see it as a win. The detentions are for our reputation, you know sometimes we get caught on purpose just to prove we can sneak out of detention?"

Lily choked, "like some sick sort of power move?"

"Absolutely. And do you know whose idea it was?"

"Sirius."

James shook his head."

"You?"

"Unfortunately my genius only goes so far."

Lily gasped, "not Peter?!"

James smirked and shook his head.

"Nope! No, no. I refuse to believe it was Remus. He's too good for this anarchy."

James laughed, leaning into her slightly and her breath caught, she wasn't sure if he noticed.
"If you honestly believe that, then Remus has played you like a fiddle."

"Oh fuck off!"

"Simpson! There are veterans in this pub... probably. Do have a bit of decorum!"

This time it was Lily that leaned closer, "fuck off!"

He smirked, then he smiled, then he chuckled, and then he laughed. They laughed and they didn't stop.

♥ ♥ ♥

(13th March 1978)

The bed was warmer than it should be. Something felt safer and soothing, and she knew James was still there before she opened her eyes.

Very slowly, afraid the movement of even her eyelids might wake him, Lily fluttered her eyes open to see him still asleep. The last time they had fallen asleep in her bed, it had been Christmas, and they had kissed the night before. But the most notable thing about this ordeal, was that James had stayed the night. The day they kissed, James was gone before she woke up, but there he was, tranquil like a lake in early morning, life yet to flutter it's stillness, to make ripples and waves.

His eyelashes were longer than was wholly fair, and if she looked close enough there were freckles on his nose. Studying James felt safe when he wasn't looking back at her, with the gaze that tickled her soul.

Lily found herself intrigued by the way his chest began rising as falling, the way he was alive. It was peaceful, reassuring, heartbreaking.

She could touch him if she wanted to, he was close enough, but she daren't. Lily had never felt so far away from someone when they seemed so close, it was an experience she never thought possible.

They were supposed to be friends. They were supposed to be friends because there was something between them, but there was too much happening at once, it was ruining both of them and it wasn't fair. It was turning them into people they didn't recognise, and neither was sure who that new person is.

They were supposed to be friends but Lily couldn't hold back from touching him any longer. Gingerly, like he was made of glass, she traced the outlines of James' face with her fingertips. Her touch was feather light as it fluttered over his nose, his cheeks, tracing his jaw as if she wanted to commit it to memory.

His eyelashes fluttered and Lily's hand jerked back. When James woke up, she pretended she did as well, opening her eyes like it was the first time that morning.

"Hey," he whispered and Lily smiled at him, probably like he'd hung the moon but it was too early to school her emotions.

"What time is it?" She breathed, trying to see over James' shoulders and at the alarm clock. He turned around for her, "it's twenty past eight."

Suddenly she sat up bolt upright. "On a Monday?!"

"Yes it's a Monday. So?"

"So I've missed class! So have you! How long does it take to travel back to your school?"

James tapped his nose and Lily wanted to kill him.
"We skipped school," he said, "it hardly makes us Thelma and Louise."

"Shut up. I'm going to school, alright? Don't let my parents see you."

James made no move to get up but smiled as she clambered over him, finding her stress highly amusing.

He turned around as she got dressed but watched her braid her hair; then just as she was about to leave, and he was sitting in her window ledge, putting out a cigarette before he left too; James tried to stop her.

"Lily?"

"Yeah," she leant against the door, her school bag in hand.

"Why didn't your parents wake you up?"

Lily shrugged, "depends. My dad will be working. Who knows about my mum."

"Lily—"

She shushed him abruptly, closing her eyes and hiding the emeralds from the world.
"I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright."

They watched each other for a minute, James had put out his cigarette and he was looking at her in a way she knew to mean more than he wanted it to mean.

"What?"

James said nothing, but his face displayed mountains of things he didn't say. Things he couldn't say. His eyes pleaded to help her say something but no sound left his lips aside from; "bye Lily Simpson."

He was gone by the time Lily had walked down the stairs and reached the garden gate. She didn't see him for a while after that.

(13th March 1978)

"Did you hear?"

"Last night?"

"Another first year was attacked. Apparently she doesn't remember a thing."

"Fuck."

Marlene found James before the door to the portrait hole was closed.
"Tell me someone isn't dying."

"They are."

James' jaw dropped but followed Marlene directly out the Head common room and down to Dumbledore's office. Guilt flooded into James' nerves, clogging his synapses and slowing everything in his brain down. He couldn't think about the fact he didn't tell Lily, he didn't think about the fact it was the day of his deadline. He couldn't think at all.

"Pear drops."

Marlene didn't knock when she flung open the door.
"SIR?!"

Albus Dumbledore perched on the end of his desk, leaning against it as if he knew he'd be up soon. His robes were purple and ankle length, but it were his eyes that hid the secrets.

"Miss McKinnon, Mr Potter. There is no need to inform me of why you are here. I'm afraid the little girl cannot be taking visitors at this moment, but Madam Pomfrey insists that she will live."

"Well do we know who did it? We have to tell the rest of the students something, sir. And the muggleborns, they'll be worried it's them next." James went on, his first thought being the Magical Prejudice Protection.

"We tell them an investigation is taking place, and we will be upping patrols."

"Bullshit!"

"I beg your pardon, Miss McKinnon."

"Professor, we have to give them more than that. Aliya is a first year, she's a baby, sir. Students will be angry. I am angry. Something more needs to be done. When Kieron Mulciber nearly killed Aliona Connolly all he faced was the prospect of expulsion! The only reason Ali saw justice was because Trudy went after him, and she traumatised herself by doing it!" Marlene's breaths were uneven, shaken, filled with a rage James could barely recognise in her, true and raw anger, pain, frustration.

"How many more?" Marlene went on, "how many more people need to lose their childhood before we start doing something."

There were tears in her eyes that cut holes in James' heart. He reached forward subtlety and linked their pinkie fingers together, a careful touch, but enough.

Dumbledore sat by his desk, his glasses slipped farther down her nose but he made little effort to correct them. "I cannot be sure." He said eventually and it was the first time he'd ever admitted such.
"It is impossible to know. But we must do everything in our power to limit that number." He looked like he was about to say more, but no words left his lips.

"We'll tell them, sir. But a lot of the students will not see this as enough. The MPP will conduct inquiries of their own. I'm going to clear it with professor McGonogall," James said as Marlene squeezed his finger.

"Alright, Mr Potter, your help is appreciated."

"Thank you."

Marlene turned around first, pulling James by their linked hands and guiding them both out the door.

"Who's the girl?"

"Her name is Aliya Savachenko. She's a first year, cute as a button, bright, adorable. She's a muggleborn with two other siblings in school just now."

James' heart broke. He knew the girl, very well.
"She's Marcus Savachenko sister. I know him, he plays quidditch for Hufflepuff, he's a fantastic seeker."

"I've lost a few catches to him, and he's cut up. We should find him, ask if he wants the MPP's help. I've talked to my brother, Darren, and he said that the Magical Peace Process would be happy to get involved publicly, but this situation is better for the aurors to handle, so I've sent a letter to Lucas, and another to Jasmine Sempere."

"Junior aurors. And my father?"

"He doesn't command investigations that don't concern snatchers."

"But what if they do?"

Marlene frowned at him.
"What do you mean?"

"Look at the pattern. Benny Crowlin didn't remember anything about his attack, neither did Aliya Savachenko.

"They can't be related, James."

"We need to look at every possible angle. Plus, Jazzy works for my dad now, anyway."

"Fine, if they can spare by brother to come and investigate, maybe it'll put their minds at ease to have a real auror here."

James shrugged, looking down at their linked pinkie fingers, "or maybe it'll just make the girls crazy."

"What?!"

"Lucas? Your brother? He's fucking good looking, Marls. People will be drooling."

Marlene smiled, followed by James, more happy she was smiling than sharing the humour of his own joke. That was the plan all along, to make her smile.

♣ ♣ ♣

(13th March 1978 continued)

She should talk to James. She should talk to someone.

Esme-Leigh knows, of course she knows, but that doesn't make the act any easier. The night was closing in and Esme felt glued to her dorm. Trudy isn't here, she might be with Ozma (she hoped they're not arguing), and Aliona was with James and Sirius, sorting out something for the MPP. Leaving Esme alone and dangerous.

There's a letter, she realised, that she'd failed to open. Another letter from the Head students of Beauxbatons, written in French, and although her language is a usually a comfort on paper, it feels foreign to her eye. She doesn't open it.

Night pulls closer, the sun burning on the horizon, a burst of brilliant orange before it disappears beyond the mountains. It swells with life. With fight. Then it will diminish, and it will die.

But Esme-Leigh knows it's tricks by now. It will be there when she wakes up, ready to die again. A thousand deaths, every sunset, reborn by morning.

Suddenly she finds no use in being in the dorm, feeling trapped, as she watches another one of the sun's many deaths. Instead she gets up, and finds herself using the marauder's passageways to sneak out of the school. And then she's in Hogsmede. Then, with a pop, Cokeworth...

The streets were empty, save for the odd person, jogging, or dog walking. There were older people still out in their gardens, making the best of the improving weather to start fixing up their front paths. Esme-Leigh smiled at those who caught her eye, ignored the ones that scoffed at her pink hair. (Blue still seemed off limits since her date with James, it felt cursed somehow.)

Lily's house was red brick, like the others next to hers, in the cul de sac, and the gate was locked, but it was low and Esme had no trouble hopping it, and approaching the front door. She hoped to high hell that it would be her that answered.

Before she could consider what she was doing, Esme-Leigh knocked and held her breath...

"Esme?"

"Lily."

It was difficult not to notice what James saw in her. Lily Simpson was beautiful by every description of the word. Her eyes were emeralds and her hair flowed in waves of blood orange, down her back, licking her skin like flames. She was wearing pyjama pants and a top that stopped at her midriff but still it seemed as if there was method and effort in her look, though likely there wasn't. Almost as if she could read Esme's thoughts, Lily folded her arms round her middle, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. They both watched each other for a moment.

"I need to talk to you."

Lily tilted her head to the side, like she were fascinated by something.
"I'm listening."

"Has James been by?"

Slowly, she nodded, "recently, yeah."

"Marlene tried to tell him, made out it had to be him that told you, but she's wrong, because I know things that James Potter evidently doesn't."

"Esme-Leigh, wha—"

The sun was dying. She had to say it now.
"I tried to give James the chance to tell you, but he fucked it up. He must have. Because you still don't know..." a deep breath, "I asked James out. And he said yes."

Lily's mouth was a perfect line, her expression was so neutral it could hardly be called an expression at all. So Esme went on.

"He said yes, and we went on a date, and we kissed."

Lakes dried up. Rivers reached their final destination. Oceans reached the shore. The sun was still hanging on when Lily spoke. One syllable.

"Oh."

"And I'm telling you this because—"

Why? It was a question that Esme had barely considered before she stood in front of Lily. There was an answer, obvious somewhere but to admit it was like cracking a final straw. Tearing down the last bridge. She took a deep breath.

"Because I knew, immediately afterwards, that he wasn't mine to kiss, and I'm not even sure I wanted him to he anymore." Words were like the rivers, racing somewhere, over rocks and sticks and anything. They kept flowing, kept running, Esme-Leigh could only keep up.
"I always thought we'd end up together? you know? Everyone told us we would, and there was this small part of me... but now? It just seems so fucking childish. So selfish."

Lily was watching, a million thoughts left unsaid as she waited for Esme to finish. Her green eyes betraying a thousand emotions at once.

"It was a nice kiss, like one you'd have with a stranger at a party, when you're drunk and not thinking straight. But I had this idea, in my head, that kissing James would be like fireworks and everything would be okay. I thought it would be this... explosion, and I'd love him. Like that," she snaps her fingers and sighs, "but it wasn't. Nothing moved. I didn't combust. Nothing. And I hate it."

"Esme, why—"

Finally some of the things hidden behind the jade of Lily's eyes made sense. There was an understanding of a different kind there, something wonderful and acute. She reached out but Esme wasn't finished.

"It's not fair on him to push this... need for love onto him, but it's also not fair on you."

"Me?" Another syllable.

"You. Because, believe me or not, James only really has a heart he's capable of sharing with you. He doesn't know it, not just yet, but I know James more than I know most people, and I've never seen him quite the person he is now."

There was a look of sunbeams in Lily's face as she said nothing, hanging on every word like a gospel.

"Sometimes, when he thinks nobody is looking, he'll stare out the window with this far-off look, watching the sunset. His face won't betray anything, but I can see it in his eyes. Something about that sunset will have reminded him of you. It's like he's keeping some sort of tremendous secret. And sometimes it would hurt me to see him like that. Because I would watch him, and he would be so beautiful and he wasn't mine, I couldn't look at a sunset and see him in it. Not like he can with you. Now it's just sort of numb. James," Esme-Leigh said, "is yours. Always will be. And I think it hurts more that I don't mind."

Lily didn't move. She didn't blink, didn't breathe. Everything was momentarily on pause and suddenly it felt upside down too.

"You can do whatever you like with that information. I just needed you to know."

"Is there... is there anything else?" Lily coughed, "there's something else, isn't there?"

It was burning the tip of her tongue. It was on fire, hot and heavy and she might die if she didn't say it now.
"Yes. I think I'm leaving. I think I might go back to France. I've not told anyone yet."

Lily began shaking her head, stepping forward just as Esme took a step back, "Es—"

She closed her eyes, hearing the nickname he would call her. ('I love you.' 'I know, Ez, I know.')

"Maman told me that I needed a reason to stay but I know she always secretly wanted me to go to the same school she did in France, but we've spent our lives here for my papa's work. And now? We can go back, and when my mother told me I needed a reason to stay. The first thing I thought of was James, if I could love him, then I wouldn't be taken back to France. Except I can't. I can't and it's killing me, because it's so unfair. So I'll wait a little while longer, maybe I'll look for another reason. But... I don't think I'll see you again."

Silence seemed to be something Lily was accustomed to, but Esme-Leigh felt like squirming. Wind blew a gentle breath of assurance in her hair, tickling her neck and pressing feather light kisses on her skin.

It might have been a year before Lily spoke, her voice rife with emotion.
"I'll miss you." That was it. Three words and everything stopped.

Because Lily and Esme had always had a friendship build on trepidation. Their letters weren't as frequent, they didn't click as quickly. But in that moment, everything fell into place and they reached an understanding. No one else knew about France, no one else knew about her feelings. Just the other. The wind was whispering.

"I'll miss you too." Suddenly Esme's arms were around her, holding on like she'll crumble if she lets go. Lily squeezed, reassuring, and she squeezes back. Time had no place in their company, it daren't pass them by, instead it stood perfectly still.

"Thank you," Lily whispered in Esme's ear, so quiet it might have been the wind.

"What for?"

"For being human."
All too soon she's pulling away, and Lily is looking at her, or into her. There's an intrusive intensity to Lily's gaze and it feels like she can see every thought she's every had, every feeling she's ever felt.

"What do you mean?"

Lily's smile was sage in a way that it shouldn't be, in a way the life had dealt her cards crueler than a thunderstorm and she was forced to play them anyway.
"When I first met you, it was like you were this... perfect person. And after me and James stopped having that petty feud, I realised you and James always had this special bond, it was the relationship I wanted. And you were so beautiful and I felt so painfully human around you, I felt like maybe you weren't human, or real... and... sorry."

The word 'perfect' rang in her ears but Esme-Leigh blocked it out. Lily was blushing, her eyes trained on the floor like it were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.
"Lily?"

She looked up, and Esme took her by the shoulders.
"Lily listen to me. Lily, you glow. You glow like a summer sunset. And nobody, nobody, can take that away from you. That's what James loves best about you, and it's what I admire most about you, and it should be what you admire about yourself most. I'm not perfect Lily, no matter how many people tell me so, I'm determined not to be, and you Lily. You've taught me how much beauty there is in imperfect things. It is tiny imperfections that give the world charm, personality, miracle. We are just as human as each other."

Lily was smiling. Tears in her eyes. But Esme meant it, every word.

♣ ♣ ♣

(14th March 1978)

The first year muggleborn would recover, was the news spread across the school and yet, everybody seemed just a little bit more shaken.

The marauders had pulled off silly odd pranks, mainly to entertain the younger students, and Peter had sworn he'd seen McGonogall look the other way as they set up fireworks in the charms corridor.

But Esme-Leigh hasn't spoken much to Mary in a while and it didn't take a detective to realise she wasn't taking the news of more attacks lightly. Something was bubbling under her skin that she seemed adamant not to confront.

They hadn't studyed Astronomy with each other anymore and so Esme missed the later nights spent with Mary and the stars, and in their dorms, Aliona and Trudy were always there too.

It was dinner time when something came to a head. Esme-Leigh was eating with Marlene, James was with the marauders, she hadn't spoken to him yet and it was supposed to be her priority, to figure out what she was going to do about James Potter.

But Mary was off-colour all evening, and she barely ate, and her eyes looked strained with the effort of keeping the tears at bay. So when she finally excused herself, Esme-Leigh counted to ten and then left too, following her out the door.

There was an empty classroom that Mary had no trouble slipping into and promptly slamming the door shut in its wake.

"Mary?" Esme knocked tentatively, "can I come in?"

The door creaked open, "why not?" She said in a voice that was slightly further away than Esme had pictured. Upon entry it was clear that Mary had already been pacing. A lot.

"Mary? What's going on?"

"My sisters. They did magic today, my mum sent me a letter."
Just as those words slipped out her mouth, Mary slumped onto the wall of the back corner, the empty classroom looked enormous compared to her, inconsequential, yet she was everything in so many other respects.

"Oh, wow! That's... that's amazing, Mary!"

"Is it?"

A pause.

"Is of really?" Head in hands, Esme couldn't see Mary's face but it was enough to hear the emotion. "Because I don't want them to go through all this! Aliya was so young, Esme! She'd barely known the wizarding world and this is what they do to her?! My sisters, they're only babies!"

"So are you, Mary!" Esme-Leigh insisted, crossing the room to be closer to her. Not quite able to take the final step and teach out, but there nonetheless.

Mary turned to fully face Esme then, her eyes were tear stained and her lower lip had begun wobbling. Nothing could stop Esme from folding her into her arms.

As soon as Mary felt herself pulled into a warm embrace, she began to cry freely, heaving sobs into her shoulder.
"I don't know how much more I can take," she breathed, "it's everyday."

There was as long, pregnant pause.
"I don't want to find out, Esme. Please don't let me find out how much more I can take."

Esme-Leigh held on tighter.
"We won't let anyone hurt you." Every sincerity in her voice, "I promise."

She promised.

♣ ♣ ♣

(14th March 1978 continued)

The world was holding its breath. Stillness surrounded Hogwarts like a blanket, swallowing whispers and screams.

Sirius Black watched the window, light rain tapping the pane. He observed as they lazily slipped to the bottom.

'Keep an eye on your loved ones.'

Regulus had told him. He'd watched them. They were the same as they had been, minus the tension in their group recently, but his little brother couldn't have meant that...

So why?

"Oh, shit!"

'You should be careful. All of you.'

'—no, I'm trying to warn you!'

Suddenly Sirius stood up, ignoring Remus' protests and racing out the common room. The halls daren't breathe. The picture frames were so still they could have been muggles. Sirius was the only thing alive as he bounded through the corridors, blood thrumming in his ears. The silence was excruciatingly loud.

'Keep an eye on your loved ones'

There'd been more attacks than usual this week. No matter how many people were on patrol, there were always attacks. The muggleborn's memories were wiped.

'I'm trying to warn you!'

He knew something was coming, he could feel it in the depth of his bones. And he had a suspicion he knew what...

'Keep an eye on your loved ones'

Sirius skidded to a stop. Listening.

Everything was consumed by silence. Sirius held his breath.

There was a scream.

Mary.

Sorry for the cliffhanger! I'll update soon I promise! Also a heads up that the following chapters are a little heavy so be warned.

Anyway, it's exam season for me so I'm not sure when the next update will be but I'm trying!

Love to all,

Abbi♥️