This chapter belongs to my beautiful friend Lelê. Thank you for being so devoted to this book!  You've been a massive support and motivation and I love you too much!
EnterUsernameHere394 ♥️♥️♥️

(1st July 1977)

With the new month came a beautiful new day. The type that instantly put one in a spanking new mood and ready to seize whatever life's toils entailed.
The sun winked through the gap in James and Sirius' curtains shyly; almost like a child might hide in their mother's skirts. It drew seraphic golden stripes across the bedroom that set a tone difficult not to feel beatific in.

James woke first –he nearly always did– and he dressed before he went downstairs. It had always been a habit of his, to change before anything else, the same way that he never got into an unmade bed or readjusted his glasses religiously. He planned to run after breakfast and so he didn't dress for the day but he dressed all the same, his quidditch t-shirt sufficed.

Sirius still hadn't awoken when he went down the stairs but Marlene was perched on the kitchen counter, still in a rose-petal pink nightdress, white socks and a surprisingly tidy ponytail while nursing a mug of sweet tea like she tended to do in the morning. Wordlessly, James squeezed her shoulder and kissed her temple in greeting then went to raiding the cupboard for something to eat before he went out on his morning run. He'd gotten up a little later than usual but it didn't deter him by any means.

"Padfoot still lazing?"

"Three guesses," James replied, pulling a French pastry from the pantry and nearly inhaling it.

"There's only two possible answers."

"What about 'maybe'?"

"Maybe doesn't count." Marlene persisted, downing the last of her tea and using his shoulder for balance as she jumped off the counter.

Ensuring she was on the ground he proceeded to send her a malefic glare.
"Whatever."

Marlene's laugh hadn't yet died down when Euphemia Potter slipped into the room, looking a lot better than she had the past few days but still not her usual self, James noticed with a bought of melancholy.

"How are we, children? Isn't it a splendid day?"

"Spiffing one might say."

Mrs Potter smiled, habitually boiling the kettle with a flick of her sycamore wand and making a fresh cup of tea.
"Have you two got any plans for the day? I trust you're staying out of trouble?"

"No mother we're wanted by the muggle police. MI5, I believe?"

Marlene sent him a ruthless look that she liked to use on first year students, "no sarcasm before noon."

He sighed but obliged, "yes ma'am."

Euphemia just smiled with a fond air of which she realised came with motherhood long ago. She'd never been without it since James was a child and it only got stronger when Sirius came to stay; the sort of innate need to fuss over her children to the point of severe annoyance was something she prided herself on.

"We're meeting some friends, Mamma," the young witch expanded. She'd nearly always called Mrs Potter Mamma for no other reason other than Mother was already taken by her biological child.

"Ah-ha! Not just any old folks, though, are they?" James interrupted with a sanguine grin, now he knew he could be the cause of embarrassment to his friend.
"Oh no, they're her girlfriend's mates, mother!"

"Really? How exciting! Should I expect you back tonight?"

James hummed, mocking intense thought.
"Worry of we're back before the morning."

Euphemia rolled her eyes, adoration still firmly in its maternal place, "I should be paid to mother you lot."

"I know," her son grinned, ruffling his hair and winking.
"Marlene, if Pads isn't awake before I get back then you have my full permission to aguamenti his arse awake! Ta ta, now all!"

He was out the front door before his mother had a split second to comprehend any of the clear issues with his parting sentiment and deservedly chastise him for it. Now all she could do was share an eye roll with Marlene who was regarding him in a similar manner, however the young witch was slightly more impressed than she; most likely something to do with the permission given to 'aguamenti his arse' (meaning Sirius) and all the fun that entailed...

♣ ♣ ♣

(1st July 1977 continued)

Sirius had faced his demons and finally gathered himself ready for the day ahead and was gone by the time James got back from his breezing run. He smirked when he saw the water stain on Padfoot's pillow and deduced he had help in the waking up department.

From time to time James preferred to shower cold, it felt more cleansing to him and so that's what he did that July morning. He was meeting new people, new muggles, and so he felt like a spring clean, of sorts, was on hand.

He chose a freshly laundered outfit (somehow he never lost his impeccable style in the school break) and he decided to comb his hair before ruffling it back up again– its the thought that counts anyway– he thought.

It was only once he was frolicking down the stairs that he heard a knock on the front door. It was the knocker used and not a fist so by that knowledge James concluded it must have been an individual here on official business.

"Get that, would you!" (The muffled voice of his mother from the kitchen).

He skipped up to the front door and opened it, having already guessed whom it was on the other side he addressed Millard McQuade with the upmost pureblood-taught manners he possessed.
"Good morning, Mr McQuade. What can we do you for? Please, do come in!" He gave an awkward nod before stepping aside and allowing Millard in the door.

Millard McQuade was leading an investigation into the potential uses of the stolen Muggleborn children that had been going missing over the past years. He often visited the Potter residence and was often in Fleamont Potter's office whenever James had frequented there in the ministry.
He was a tall man, never seen without a suit and no younger than forty but his hair had already began to grey. He was affable looking and so greeted James with a welcoming smile as he passed though the door.

"Morning, James. How's yourself?"

"Not too bad, sir. Father is upstairs if you'd follow me," James lead Millard up the set of spiralled stairs he'd just come down to see his father on the first floor.

"And how is your mother?"

A small lump bopped in his throat.
"Oh you know... she's alight."

"I see."

They walked along the grey walled corridor in relative silence which James was more than grateful for.
Windows appeared to be waltzing with the sunlight and so Millard McQuade chose to focus on the serenity of that visual instead.
Sunlight was quite telling, James noticed, it did a lot of good to grave places and so he didn't spend long in his morbid mood; in fact he was practically back to his chipper self by the time the duo had reached his father's office.

"Here we are, sir."

Millard smiled, "much obliged, young man. Give my best to Sirius, won't you?"

"Of course!"

They exchanged almost genteel smiles before Millard disappeared into his father's office.
Now, James had never been a particularly prying nor intrusive character but when one is presented with the opportunity to eavesdrop they rarely miss out on it.

Something was troubling McQuade. Not in the sort of therapeutic sense but James more got the notion that there was an air of panic in the office the moment Millard stepped in. No sooner had the door was shut than he began to pour buckets of evidently vital news.
And so James ventured back to the door, pressing his ear against it and doing his upmost best not to breathe...

"It's looking bad, sir. I called Kayla in to secure the place and she's instructed a media blackout for the time being. She's got ties with the Muggle CID so they should be on blackout too, unless Hansel and Gretel are on duty, of course."

James frowned –he'd heard of the ineptness of the two officers dubbed Hansel and Gretel– he braced himself on the door properly to listen to his father's response...

"And there was an auror and police presence before these kids went missing?"

"Yes sir."

"...shit. How did they get past?!"

"That's what we're still trying to figure out."

There was a pause, which James assumed was for alarmed
thought, not dramatic effect.

"Right. I want you to go up to Newcastle right now and start collecting reports. I'll follow you in about an hour. I've still got something to finish up here. All these loose ends, you know?"

"Of course. I'll head over right away. And it's a media blackout so try not to bump into anyone on the way up."

"Will do, McQuade. Now off with you."

"Yessir."

There were footsteps ascending towards the door and James
struggled to leap out the way without arising suspicion. He'd only enough time to leap towards the closest window and pretend to be fixated by the view of the cul de sac opposite the residence.

"Son?"

James turned, culpably albeit, to face his father, watching him with an expression one might wear when scolding a child out of bed on Christmas Eve.

"Yes?"

Fleamont frowned, studying his son with a level of intensity that was only possible to achieve with fatherhood. He raised an eyebrow and James had to stop himself from gulping.

"Admiring the view?"

"Ah..."

"Are you accusing me of eavesdropping?"

"Are you denying it?"

"Only if you're accusing me."

"Then I won't accuse you. I didn't raise my son to be a liar."

During this peculiar session of ping-pong, Millard stood perfectly still, hoping he might attract less attention if he opted for the 'if you can't see me I'm not here' strategy. This however did not do anything for him. Without so much as quirking his eye, Fleamont addressed his colleague:
"McQuade? Aren't you leaving?"

"On my way."

"Clearly."

He wasn't gone a minute before father and son broke into a round of laughter. It's something one can only do in the darkest of times; laugh in the face of the devil.

"Dad?" James' voice was meek and almost chary as he asked, "that wasn't just another missing kid was it?"

"No." His tone was demure and filled with something like regret as he spoke. It was obvious the news McQuade had brought rubbed him up the wrong way (as did a lot of things of recent as the abductions began to steadily rise).
"No, it wasn't."

Not wishing to pry, James waited docilely –not something he regularly partook in, docility– before his father expanded.

"We had a county kept under perimeter surveillance. We've been looking after a small town outside Newcastle for almost a year to try and see if we could catch a snatcher in the act. A team of about twenty aurors and ten CID policemen– they didn't know we weren't Muggles– have been keeping the place secure. And an abduction of several houses took place last night. It was as if they already knew we were there and so decided to get all their abductions done in one night. Six kids, all under twelve."

James just stared. How was one meant to dignify such an abhorrent crime with a response that would be, in any way, of assistance and not just a proclamation of the obvious.

"No one saw anything. Well, we don't think they did. That's what McQuade's away to take care of just now but the place is on media blackout to see if we can trace the kids before we terrify the Muggle and magical public. The war is only getting worse as more kids go missing too."

James nodded, fixing his eyes on his shoes, as if he were somehow to blame for the whole thing.
"Do you want me to come?"

"Aren't you meeting Marlene's girlfriend's mates today?"

"Don't be a prat, dad, I can call it off."

"You're the prat, son! Of course you can't call it off! Have fun today alright? I'm old so I'll stay out of trouble. Millard'll be with me anyway. He'll keep me in line, alright?"

James nodded, looking up once more at the sorrowful, tangible eyes of Fleamont, "alright, father. Write to us if you'll be late... or at all, okay?"

"When haven't I?"

At this the junior Potter scoffed, "when have you, father? In the past ten years I could probably name twice you've written us."

Fleamont rolled his eyes, he was often dismissive of what was staring him in the face. And so, for a loquacious man, he did seem to blunder his response with a swift flick of his hand to dismiss the subject.
"Begone child. Go and do whatever it is teenagers do... what's it called again? Fun?"

James chuckled, "you wouldn't know, dad. You were born a pensioner!"

(1st July 1977)

What does one wear to go out with one's best-friend's girlfriend's friends? It was a mouthful to say the very least but nevertheless a question Lily posed to herself as she stared cynically into her wardrobe. She'd never been one to spend a long time choosing clothes, the way she saw it was, if you had clothes you didn't want to wear then you had too many. However today seemed outlandish somehow, she wasn't entirely sure why it was but that's neither here nor there. It just was.

"Shit." She muttered, pulling a thin cardigan off its hanger and slinging it over her arm along with a skirt and top. It'd have to do.

As she got dressed and braided her hair she hummed along to a record she'd stolen off her sister last week: Rocketman by Elton John. Likely she'd come storming in with a belligerent temper any second now but she found it incredibly difficult to care.

"LILY!"

Lily sighed. Alas it was too sweet a dream to entertain that she might be able to hear the end of the song.

"LILY!"

"What?!"

Petunia Evans burst into her sister's bedroom just as the aforementioned was tying a rubber band round her second french braid.
"Don't think I can't hear my bloody record playing in this room! Where's the turn table?"

Sighing with deflation, Lily stood up with a torpid groan, like she was weighed down by a pile of bricks.
"Over here. Take the damn record and get out. I'm busy."

"Charming."

"Yeah well, you would be too if you had a bitchy sister that doesn't let you borrow records."

Petunia scoffed, pushing a strand of gleaming blonde hair out her face with a dainty hand, "whatever." She made for the door before turning back at the last second, "it doesn't suit you by the way. That skirt. Blue isn't your colour."

Lily growled with a feral level of hostility. She should be held liable for killing her sister at the best of times.
"Get out."

Petunia wasn't at breakfast. She was off to see some of her 'girlfriends' for the day and so Lily enjoyed the first half of her breakfast in peace.

"Morning, you!" Came a voice from behind her. She turned to see her father smiling in an almost dystopian way. His positivity seemed insincere and Lily guessed it was something to do with the fact her mother was still in bed. Likely sleeping off her third hangover of the week.

"Morning dad. You want breakfast?"

Martin Evans shook his head, "don't you worry about that. I'll fix something for me and your mother later," his brown eyes didn't quite agree with his tone but Lily tried her best to ignore it.

"Alright. Listen I'm going out later on, if that's alright? I'm meeting some friends so Dorcas should be here any minute and we're just going to stay upstairs and get our holiday homework out the way before we go. 'That alright?"

"Course. Any boys going to be there?"

"Dad! I dunno," (peeved), "maybe, I've not met them; there's mates of Dork."

Martian was chuckling from the kitchen counter, he often took his daughter's embarrassment in good humour.
"I'm kidding. Just don't be back too late. And if you decide to stay with Dorcas or Alice then make sure Dorcas' mum -slash- Alice's grandma knows, okay?"

Lily's smile rivalled the radiant day outside, "of course."

"Good girl."

♥ ♥ ♥

(1st July 1977 continued)

Even once golden hour had begun to descend on the town of Cokeworth it was still uncharacteristically yet leaker and warm. However the fading light seemed oddly foreboding, for with light came shadow and so somethings seemed eldritch in the flame-like ambiance of the town.

They decided to meet outside Indulge for no other reason than it was an easy landmark to pinpoint in a town so monotonous in its ways. The sign cast a persistent white glow around the street, making its residence a staple in its own right.

Lily and Dorcas walked arm in arm towards what seemed to be the group of people they were about to be acquainted to.
As they drew closer Lily was struck with a foreboding sort of plague that seeped through her like cigarette smoke. Apprehension.

"That's him!" She hissed into Dorcas' ear with unmistakable alarm in her voice.

"Who?"

"The boy! The one that lives in the big house that winked at me like a git the other day! Didn't I tell you?"

Dorcas shot her friend a condescending look that needn't have required words had she not offered them anyway.
"Evidently not!"

"Well I am now! He winked at me like an arsehole when I was cycling to Alice's."

"Was this before or after your spiel about assuming a new identity as Lily Simpson and starting a new life?"

"After," Lily snapped, lowering her voice to a low –but still nocuous hiss to avoid being overheard as they drew closer to the cluster of adolescents– "it was the same day, I think. Anyway, what does it matter?"

"It matters that you are a bloody spacer and that you're supposed to tell your best friends these sorts of ordeals!"

"Well pardon me, I didn't realise you were The –fucking– Lily Observer! Do you write a weekly column in the local paper?"

"Yes, actually, I'm working on a piece called 'my best friend is a daydreaming dolt'!"
The final part of her chastise came out as a whisper in her ear which was probably best seen as one of the girls –a blonde with dark red painted lips Lily assumed was Marlene– seemed to be giving them a peculiar look.

"Shut up, they'll figure out we're insane before we've even spoke to them!"

Dorcas laughed and squeezed Lily's arm, "don't worry," she said in a voice that could have calmed storms better than Moses, "it'll be fine."

The blonde came closer to them, jogging as the duo finally reached the group, realising they were the last to arrive aside from Alice and Frank.
"Dee!" Cried, whom Lily guessed was, Marlene; her suspicions confirmed when she pressed a controlled but still candied kiss to her girlfriend's lips, leaving a faint crimson red outline on Dorcas' lipgloss.

"So... who's this? Wait! Lemme guess! It is... Lily?"

Something about the girl made Lily assume she wasn't used to feeling bubbly. Her choice in clothes –dark, bold and chic– suggested that she tended to be much cooler than this vivacious and intractable version of herself.

Lily smiled coyly, "how did you know?"

"She talks about you." Marlene answered with a jerk of her head towards Dorcas and winked as the rest of the group caught up.
"All. The. Time. Come 'ere!" She wrapped Lily in a hug which was surprisingly vehement and sweet.

When the two pulled away, Lily was able to see there were five other people there. Four boys (including him) and one girl. She felt herself do a double take on the girl; she was physically flawless as far as Lily could make out. Her hair was dyed iridescent mauve and hung in layered curls around her shoulders; her freckles were like her own, aggressive yet becoming, and her eyes were a similar blue to her hair minus the purple hue. In truth she felt rather embarrassed next to the girl hugging onto the tallest boy's arm affectionately.

"Well Dorcas, Lily, these are my friends: Remus Lupin, Esme-Leigh Bisset, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter." Marlene's aphorisms always seemed to be spoken with an air of dignity which only seemed to glow when she spoke of her friends, gesturing to each one in turn.

So he was James Potter. What a bloody normal name, she thought. But something about it suited him, she supposed he might suit anything.

Dorcas hadn't so much as opened her mouth to introduce herself and Lily before Alice and Frank were spotted.
"I'll wait for these two before I do the introductions, shall I?"

They didn't take long to navigate the light and dark of the flame coated sky which Lily still couldn't seem to shake, perhaps it was his gaze on her that was doing it?...

"It's an interesting night wouldn't you say?" Alice commented politely, holding her hand over her face so she could study the sky without hurting her hazelnut brown eyes.
"Photographer's dream, that is."

"It's splendid, isn't it?" Said he, with a London accent smoother than fine silk that was clearly well trained. Lily resisted the urge to scoff at how bourgeois it sounded.

The rest of them agreed, seemingly accustomed to the boy's horrendously fine accent.
"Anyway," Marlene gestured around them, "won't we be introduced too?"

"Sorry! I'm Dorcas, Marls' girl. And these are my friends..." she held an inviting hand out for them to introduce themselves.

"Alice Fortescue."

"Frank Longbottom."

"And..." Lily hesitated and locked eyes with Dorcas who was smirking at her. They seemed to be thinking the same thing. If she was going to do it, then she might as well...
"And I'm Lily. Lily Simpson."

♠ ♠ ♠

(1st July 1977 continued)

James stood next to Marlene, leaning against the wall and waiting for the other group to arrive. They seemed to be making fashionably late appearances.

"They'll be here," he assured his friend, taking her hand and squeezing it to cease its shaking.

"I know. I know."

And he was right. They arrived not five minutes later, the first two –one of which was clearly Dorcas– came arm in arm from the opposite direction he'd been looking in. The second girl, the one Marlene had not kissed was rather painfully lovely. Her hair was a light russet, clashing marvellously with the angry sky and making her look a cross between the pro and antagonist in a compelling fantasy novel. Freckles spanned across her cheeks and neck like a night sky over her translucent, nearly almost, anaemically pale skin, making him doubt she was even there at all. She was the belief in miracles, he thought. Not angels, that might have been Esme but James found himself wondering why he'd been able to breathe for so long having never seen the girl's face before.

As Marlene introduced them all, however, he got the feeling that whatever he's been ruminating wasn't mutual as she regarded him widely with contempt.

"Interesting night, wouldn't you say?" Another pretty girl said, this one brunette with honey eyes that suggested home. "Photographer's dream, that is." Her voice was so fragile he thought he might break it if he interrupted her.

"Splendid, isn't it?" He made care not to break her speech.

The fanciful girl nearly scoffed and James didn't miss it. He was quickly beginning to doubt his first impressions. They said first impressions were often wrong and he was just beginning to find truth in their once empty words.

"Sorry!" (Clearly he'd missed whatever it was she was to be sorry about) "I'm Dorcas, Marls' girl. And this is..."

"Alice Fortescue." (The benignant brunette.)

"Frank Longbottom. (A meek looking boy and clearly the aforementioned Alice's boyfriend.)

"And..." the third party paused, sharing a short look with Dorcas before smirking ever so slightly, "And I'm Lily. Lily Simpson."

"Well it's a pleasure," Sirius assured with charm that might have swept any living soul off their feet. He shook hands with each of the new comers while Remus and Peter did the same, James decided to keep up trends and follow suit; when he reached the girl just christened Lily Simpson he felt his hand catch fire so quickly he almost had to pull away before he noticed it was just his nerves. Without really thinking he ran a hand through his messy hair in order to calm it down. He nearly always needed something to do with his hands– it was one of the main reasons he took up smoking.
Finally Esme-Leigh, in incredible Esme-Leigh style broke the general trend and instead took to pulling each of them into a hug.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all. We've heard bits and pieces about you but I'm sure there's lots to learn, so let's go and get a drink, why don't we? Bonne!"

James noticed they were taken slightly by surprise by her accent and physicality all at once. He smirked, they'd get used to it eventually.

The group set off into the flames above with an exuberance that teenagers tend to possess. Dorcas took Marlene's hand as they strolled leisurely at the front. James found himself sticking to Sirius and Esme-Leigh as they walked to the nearest bar; that was until the vivacious brunette girl fell into step with them and the other two muggles seemed to follow suit, purely out of perturb at not having the girl with them.

"So... how long have you two been dating?" Alice asked in that voice of liquid gold that James was finding very soothing to hear. She seemed to have undivided attention when she spoke –not in the same way Marlene did, she dominated a conversation– but Alice, she wasn't quite the same. She spoke with such endearing air that one elected to listen to her over anyone else simply because her voice was delightful to hear.

She was gesturing to himself and Esme looking perfectly serious which seemed mildly amusing at the time despite the vague sting in his chest that he tried to ignore.

"No, we're not dating! People always like to ask that at school though," James eased their minds, putting the blow to the back of his mind like an unwelcome fly in one's kitchen.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you! I just thought..."

Esme-Leigh put a hand on Alice's, "—people often do." They shared a smile that radiated solicitude.

Frank then turned to Sirius just as they crossed an empty street and made their way to the main part of town, which was alight with people as it often was on a Saturday. It looked awfully like a flock of moths round a lightbulb.
"And you? Got a girlfriend?"

Sirius smirked when Lily spoke up for the first time in a while; she seemed to come up for air in her lake of personal vendetta against James.
"I'd be surprised if he didn't."

This amused Sirius much more than it should; he turned to James and they looked like Christmas had arrived early.
"Oh no, darling. But then again, girls often want what they can't have."

"So you are taken?"

"No: gay."

Lily Simpson proceed to do a very veracious impression of a beetroot.
"Oh..."

"Yeah, big time. I mean, it's not that I don't see the appeal," he drawled, "when Marlene runs her hands through her hair in that way she does, even I find it difficult not to swoon, but over all they're not really my thing."
He talked of girls in a similar way one might talk about choosing food off a menu.

"Fair enough."

Despite her seeming to find him particularly pestilent, James was beginning to like this Lily character. Muggles were splendid creatures.

♠ ♠ ♠

(1st July 1977 continued)

The pub they chose was convivial and rather pleasant. It was chalk full of all sorts of customers and therefore much easier for Esme-Leigh and Marlene to seduce the bartender into overlooking the fact only a few of them had (magically made) IDs.

They sat in a booth in the corner of the earthy looking pub, each with a drink and a bottle of vodka in the middle of them.
Thus far Lily had managed not to mention to the boy, James, that he'd totally inconsiderately winked at her the other day and she hadn't planned on bringing it up but he was getting more and more cocky by the second and she was finding it difficult not to strangle him.

"I'll tell you what? Why don't we play a game of Marauders Dares?" Esme-Leigh suggested in an accent thick enough to spread on toast.

"What's Marauders Dares?" Lily asked, rolling the words along her tongue as if experimenting with how they sounded.

"Simple." Marlene began, "these dimwits are the marauders and they fashioned a drinking game a couple of years ago to get everyone piss drunk and having fun."

"Sounds like a dream," Dorcas chuckled.

"It is. Basically someone gets a dare and then one of the others has to bet on if they think that person will complete the dare. If they do it then the person that did the dare and the person that gave it get to split the money. Loser has to take a drink of something strong as we can find. Aim of the game is don't die or go bankrupt."

"I once lost about eighty gall—pounds in a single night. So just... don't get too confident." James eyed the group humorously and Lily wished she could punch him and his confidence.

"I'd struggle to find someone more confident than you, mate." She spat at him. However he only seemed to be amused by her and he chuckled, pulling a walked from his pocket and throwing a five pound note on the table.

"Well then... want to start us off if you're so desperate to prove yourself, shortstop. I'll bet you that," (he nodded at the note) "you can't do whatever it is Sirius dares you to."

The group whistled lowly, creating an air of tension that seemed to cloud the booth thickly. Lily sneered at the boy as he eyed her handsomely.
"Fine. What's the dare?"

The sun had finally failed as Sirius cracked his knuckles, doing his best to drag out the moment of tension just as Lily realised this boy was a drama queen. The pub now seemed riddled with thick almost ominous anticipation. Her body tingled with adrenaline as it coursed through her veins like a second blood.

"I dare you to... slap the guy at the bar over there. Just for the fuck of it. Don't tell him why, just do it."

Her mouth hit the floor and would have reached London Underground if her rationality hadn't kicked in and reminded her that James Potter was watching with a coquettish smirk.

"Fine."

The remainder of the group made to get ready to be thrown out while they watched, tantalised, by her nerve.

Lily reached the man faster than her courage did and so she watched him for a split second as she waited for the lag in her conscious thought to catch up. If she waited any longer then her inhibitions might follow suit and then she'd be fucked. She was not losing a bet to James Potter after all that.

And she didn't. By some miracle she let her common sense leave her body as she strutted straight up to the guy she'd never met in her life and slapped him across the face. She consoled herself with the fact he'd looked strangely at her when they came in.

"OI!" (The bartender).

And she ran, not caring if the group followed her, laughing like she hadn't in a very long time, the world seemed to be laughing with her as she ran out the door into the night.

They caught up with her at the end of the street, giggling like school children after a game of tag.
"That was amazing! I take it back, Simpson, you've got nerve," Sirius nodded with approval as she handed her the five pound note, "keep the lot. You deserve it after that."

"Yeah, well we're forgetting that baby-genius over here has got us thrown out one of the only decent pubs around here."

"Prongs, just shut and up and enjoy the moment, okay? You've just lost a fiver to this badass so I wouldn't get too big for my boots," Esme-Leigh tugged his sleeve sharply and shot him a look with crystalline blue eyes that the highest criminal would fear. James, however, just shrugged her off and winked.

"We'll find another pub, 'mon," Remus assured with a jerk of his head toward, possibly, the only other pub in Cokeworth that the marauders hadn't been barred from.

They'd gotten in quite easily and crowded round the only other table that wasn't taken, which meant that seats were scarce and therefore Dorcas found herself on Marlene's lap and Alice on Frank's. The pub wasn't quite as dingy as the last. This one was slightly more inviting in a modern sense, it was lit by bare lightbulbs and the walls were painted white and green to assist the array of plants that spilled over walls and table tops. James found himself liking this place. Shame they'd likely be thrown out in about an hour...

"So... who's next?"

Marlene was smirking, she eyed Lily with an air of mischief at her dislike to James. She'd seen right through her as soon as the two locked eyes but there was only one way to make sure.

"James. See if you can flirt your way into getting the bartender to getting us a replacement bottle of vodka for the one we so sadly parted ways with at the last pub."

He smirked, eyes glancing to Lily behind his glasses for the shortest of moments that Marlene didn't miss –seekers don't miss anything– and stood up.
"Okay. Starting off lightly I see Blondie. How much?"

Once again she tracked Lily from the corner of her eye; she looked apprehensive as to what hard was if this was considered light.
"It's an easy dare but I want my money so... tenner?"

Lily shrugged, "I'll take it. There's no way the girl up there will give anything for free. She's gorgeous she must get awful boys like you putting the moves on her all the time!"

Sirius grinned, looking as if he were keeping a tremendous secret as James advanced to the bar.
"Watch."

And they did. James came back with a bottle in hand and no less well off money wise.
"She wasn't really my type but apparently I was hers, who says that can't be an advantage?"

Lily scoffed, evidently on the verge of being sick at his flirtatious charms. She didn't think it were possible to be so annoyed by one singular pretty boy in her life.
"You have a type?! I thought you'd just be the sort that went with anyone!"

"Perhaps," he slid back into his seat and fixed her eyes with a searing gaze that made her stomach twist and vertigo cease her brain.

"Oh yeah? And what's that then?"

He unlocked his eyes from her's long enough to glance her up and down. That was all the answers she needed.

♠ ♠ ♠

(2nd July 1977)

It was well past midnight when they finally got thrown out the final pub of the night. However this time Peter had managed to steal a bottle of something they didn't quite recognise on his way out.

As the second day of July came rolling in they found themselves sitting in a circle on top of a multi-storey car park, passing the bottle of something between them, a cigarette following suit. The clouds obscured most of the stars; not that they paid much attention– they were much to pissed for that– but they didn't provide much light. Marlene had to slap Peter before he suggested they each cast a lumos in his drunken state.

Over the course of the night they'd each left their comfort zones of designated friendship groups and begun to mix between. They were sitting completely out of order to the way they'd begun the night. Alcohol often did that. It brought out a sense of camaraderie: once you'd been drunk with someone it was difficult not to have at least some form of regard, if not respect, for them.

Despite this, James and Lily still sat at opposite ends of the circle. One occasionally throwing the other a look of odium. The night of Marauders Dares had only made matters worse for their part, ever since Marlene had dared James to talk to the pretty looking girl, Lily'd been in a foul mood.

She was eyeing James in that particular moment, looking as though she was incredibly conflicted over whether she should shove him off a cliff or into a wall and snog the smirk off his lips. It was a dilemma right enough.

Esme-Leigh had said something to Peter that she wasn't paying attention to when James threw her a wink. Lily repressed the burning in her stomach when she recognised the same look he'd given her.

"You winked at me like that the other day!" She blurted suddenly, instantly covering her mouth shut as soon as the words left her lips as if she might be able to put them back in. Sometimes being drunk was quite inconvenient.

"I wink at a lot of people, Babybell, you're going to have to be a bit more specific," James said with the same sort of crooked smirk he'd been wearing for the majority of the evening and, no doubt, about ninety percent of his life.

"Well you winked at me when I was on my bike going to see Alice. I didn't doubt you'd be the sort to wink at every female to cross you path!"

"I don't. Just the ones that stare."

She felt a truculent feeling bubble up in her mind and she thought she'd rather enjoy kicking him, the thought of being able to kiss him was clouded with the sort of anger that was lethal to boys like James.

"Fuck off."

Marlene was smirking and Lily felt like telling her to fuck off too. She wouldn't mean it, of course; they'd been getting on pretty swimmingly but her red lipstick smirk made it seem more powerful. It made her feel like she was doing something worth smirking at and she wasn't quite sure what. She seemed shrunk under her scrutiny.

"Anyway, youre not allowed to make fun of me. You've lost at least twenty quid tonight!"

"Which should mean I'd be the drunkest out of you lot seen as I've taken the most shots and yet... I'm pretty much peachy!" His voice cut off suddenly for a moment as he contained his intoxication. But it was largely true. He and Remus, for the most part, seemed almost fine.

"Please! I could out drink you in a minute!"

James found this a wonderful thing for her to say and he revelled in its marvel for a moment, grinning, before offering her his proposal:
"Well then. Dare me." He stood up and held his hand out as if to beckon her over. She took the bait and sauntered closer, staring him down with a murderous quirk of her eyebrow.

"'Dare me', what?"

"Well if you think you can outdrink me then dare me to try."

"You talk a shit game, Potter."
Her lips curled into a snarl, intoxication almost completely forgotten and overruled by the pugnacious venom seeping into her veins like an abhorrent poison.

"Wanna test that theory, midget gem?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do."

He was level with her now and she could feel his breath burning her skin.
His voice was a perilous whisper:
"Then do it." He offered her a bottle of something dark without its label. The substance almost seemed to glow jacinth, imitating whiskey but not quite. She took the bottle from his hands, refusing to be daunted by the alcohol and –without looking away from the eyes that seemed to be staring all the way into her head and out the other end– she pressed the bottle to her lips and drank.

The rest of the group gasped, Peter cheered and Dorcas was about to jump up to stop her best friend before Marlene placed a hand on her knee.

James couldn't help but look impressed when she, at long last, brought the bottle away from her lips and he couldn't help but be slightly flushed when she gasped for air and smirked.

"What is that?"

"Whiskey."

"No it's not."

"What sort of whiskey do you drink?"

"The sort that gets you drunk. I'm not limited to whiskey, paint stripper tends to do the job."

She pushed the bottle into his hands, her eyes were greener than a forest after rain but they might as well have been red when they blazed. Only then did James notice where the golden hour must have went... she'd stolen it.

Or maybe he was drunk?

The bottle spilled a little out like a waterfall of liquid fire when he haphazardly snatched it off her and took an equally generous drink.

The world was a little fuzzy once the drink burned down his throat and Lily grinned. She had a smile like a loaded gun.

When she pressed the bottle competitively to her lips for a second time the burn didn't seem to be so painful, it was more of a glow as it glided down her throat like red hot honey. She'd forgotten there were at least seven other people watching them and in that moment it was just her against perhaps the most arrogant git she'd ever had the misfortune of meeting.

Their game of cat and mouse continued until the bottle was almost empty and it was ensured they might not live to see the morning.

James held it on front of him and hesitated, seemingly having some sort of crisis with his inner dialogue before he held the bottle out and smashed it on the floor. A million little shards spread across the car park like a heinous looking trap, a puddle of the remaining liquid bled over the concrete. Everyone was deadly quiet until Marlene began to clap.

"Nice one, Simpson!"

Lily smirked, "see? You talk a... shit game."

(2nd July 1977 continued)

James lay awake longer than the average drunk man expects to be when he first lays down after spending most of the night drinking firewiskey and vodka like filtered water.

He stared at the ceiling, wondering why he couldn't sleep. Every time he shut his eyes he saw a pair of forest green ones, sparkling like emeralds, surrounded by a sea of freckles. Lily Simpson.

He thought about the night they'd just had. Everything seemed to feel upside down and it wasn't his early hangover talking. He recalled the bartender in the second pub, the one he'd schmoozed like he tended to do –in fact he'd done similar things about a million times! It was only a dare and yet it had never made him feel so ticked off with himself. The fact of the matter was that Lily had been right. He didn't have a type, he'd lied to keep her happy. A girl he's only just met. A girl with burning kaleidoscopic green eyes, constellations on her cheeks and a smile like a loaded gun...

It was merlin knows how long before he noticed it wasn't just himself with a case of insomnia. Sirius was staring at him like a meerkat with the sort of curiosity that only said animal or an absolutely hammered man can posses.

"I c-can't believe that...'old on..." he screws his eyes shut for a moment of composure, "that wha'ser name drank more than you, Prongs! She was too small to hold all that...–all that alcohol."

James turned away with a frown, "I know."

"What d'ya mean?"

"I..." he hiccuped, "I let her win."

"WHAT?!" Padfoot cried, bolting upright in his bed before proceeding to go tumbling out of it and onto the floor. Barely registering the calamity, he looked back up at a still perfectly serious James.
"Why?"

"Because..." he frowned, cocking his head to the side and staring off out the window to the night outside; the clouds had since cleared and he could see the stars clearly like little pins bursting the midnight's own blanket. It looked awfully like her skin.
"I don't know?..."

It soon became clear that padfoot didn't too much care to hear his answer. When Prongs turned back around to see him, he was fast asleep.

So I am thoroughly disappointed with how this turned out but no matter! It's my first update of 2021 though so that's cool!

Anyway, I've got a survey up on my conversation board about this book. It would be great if you could fill it out and as always I'd love to hear any theories you might have?

Thanks again for reading!

Love you all,

Abbi ♥️