"Can I have a word?"

Remus' voice was low and husky to Lily's ears, making her jump. Glancing sideways toward Emmeline and Benjy Fenwick, who were busy locked in a passionate embrace by the fireside, Lily nodded and shuffled over, making room for Remus on the lounge.

"Sure."

Remus fiddled with the buttons on his jacket. "I tried the potion, the other night," he said finally, looking up to meet her eyes with an apologetic smile. "Wasn't much help, frankly. I'm sorry, Lily."

Lily's eyes widened as she listened, and her mouth twisted into a kind smile. "Oh," she murmured. "I'm sorry too, Remus... Well, if it doesn't work the first time, try, try ag-"

Remus held up his hand, effectively silencing her. "Thank you for your concern, Lily. It means a lot that you thought of me at all, but… I don't want you to waste your time on a lost cause. Especially when you should be studying."

Lily's brow furrowed. "I - I - Don't you dare think you're a lost cause, Remus Lupin," she argued fiercely, albeit in a whisper. "In fact, I think with a few adjustments here and there-"

Remus shook his head. "Really Lily, it isn't necessary. Thanks – but no thanks."

Remus sighed inwardly as he stood up and turned away, making his way back across the Gryffindor Common room to where Peter was struggling with Charms revision. It wasn't that Remus didn't appreciate Lily's help… He did, in more ways than she could ever know. But he felt, as always, that the Marauders themselves ran too large a risk in keeping him company, and frankly, Remus didn't want to put anyone else out in the name of his affliction. It just wasn't practical, in his mind, anyway, for Lily to waste her time on a potion that was likely to do absolutely nothing to help. Remus couldn't get his hopes up. He'd lived with this for twelve years already, anyway. He'd cope.

Lily watched Remus' hunched back sadly. He was shying away from her help - that much was obvious. She shook her head, unable to understand why Remus felt the need to bear his burden alone.

Turning toward Emmeline in the hope of some solidarity (although reasonably, Emmeline would have had no idea what Lily and Remus were talking about) Lily found that Emmeline and Benjy seemed to have progressed to kissing. She sighed heavily, watching them from the corners of her eye. What she wouldn't give for James to-

Lily shook her head again in an attempt to clear any thoughts of that nature from her mind. It wouldn't do to dwell on what James seemed so determined to avoid. Gaze landing on the snow-covered landscape beyond the common room window, Lily stood, muttered to no one in particular that she was going for a walk, and left.

Out of the corner of his eye, James noticed Lily leaving the common room, her expression decidedly blank. Curiously, he stood, and made the sudden decision to follow her.

"Back in a while," he murmured to Remus and Peter, who simply raised their eyebrows and nodded.

She felt his presence before she saw him. Lily had wandered in the snow for some time before finding a comfortable rock to perch on by the edge of the lake. She had sat, drinking in the silence for scarce moments before she heard the familiar scrunch of footsteps behind her, and the strange tingling in the back of her neck that told her who had joined her.

Lily watched the lake carefully. The water was black and thick as it crashed onto the shore in small wavelets. It wasn't yet cold enough for the lake to fully freeze over, but nevertheless, Lily didn't fancy going for a wade.

"I'm tired," she confessed quietly, watching the tiny bubbles of foam drift in and out with the tide.

Beside her, she felt James tense. "Tired of what?" he asked carefully, examining her profile.

He had an intense desire to kiss every single freckle that he could see sprinkled across her nose.

"Tired of waiting for you to make the first move."

The confession was a quiet one; so quiet that James himself almost missed it. Except that he didn't. Instead, he caught the words that had sprung on a breath of steam from her lips, and he grasped them with both hands in delight. A small smile began to spread across his face, and within seconds, if Lily had possessed the courage to look, she would have seen him grinning like the Cheshire cat from one of her muggle storybooks. Instead, Lily felt the smile, and bit back her own. Had James shuffled closer? Was that possible? Then, all of a sudden…

"I knew it would work." The triumph in his voice was evident, even though the words were spoken softly and with great care, as if their speaker was savouring every syllable.

And, indeed, he was.

Lily's resolution to avoid his eyes failed: she turned in surprise, and his look captured her, leaving her rather breathless.

"What – what do you mean?" she asked falteringly, distracted by those warm hazel eyes, as enticing as melted chocolate. Except that it was Lily herself who felt like she was melting.

"Remember what I said about doing this the right way? I wanted you to know me, Lily," those chocolate eyes explained softly. Lily was oblivious to their owner's voice. "I wanted you to want me: to know that it was me that you wanted to be with."

Lily's lips curved into a shy smile of their own accord. "You're far more amazing than I ever imagined, Potter," she told him, fully believing the words with every fibre of her being.

James just nodded calmly, but his smile lit up his face, and his eyes twinkled. Slowly, hesitantly, his hand crept across her legs, and their fingers entwined. A gust of chilly air flew at them across the lake, sending Lily's hair tumbling backwards over her shoulders.

"Perhaps we should go back inside," he suggested, his voice low. "I don't know about you, Lils, but I don't fancy either of us getting frostbite."

James stood and pulled a reluctant Lily to her feet. Then, suddenly, he dropped her hand, and stuffed his own back into the pocket of his robes, drawing his cloak tightly around his shoulders.

Lily stood stationary by the lake, watching his retreating figure, all dressed in black, with a small, fond sort of frown.

Several metres away, James seemed to notice that she was not, in fact, by his side. Turning around, eyes half-closed against the cold, he sighed. There she was, still standing by the lake, where he had left her.

"Come on!"

Lily shook her head, before coming to an abrupt and absolute decision that made her smile. As her mother had always said, if you want something done right, you'd best do it yourself.

Next thing James knew, he lay on his back in the snow, having just been charged at, then tackled, by the small red-haired figure.

James looked up into her eyes, too shocked to speak. They sparkled with mischief, and he laughed, feeling supremely sheepish. So this was what he had pushed Lily to, tackling him in the freezing snow?

"You're not going one more step without giving me the kiss of my life, Potter."

Lily watched James' eyes widen, and she leant back, satisfied, as a small, self-conscious smile crept onto his face.

Good. He deserves to be shocked, she thought.

"You're insane," he murmured, voice filled with wonder. "I've finally driven you over the brink. You're insane!"

Lily laughed and rolled her eyes, grabbing at a tuft of his wild black hair. "Not quite," she murmured, bringing her face so close to his that their noses were touching. "This is insane."

And she kissed him.

Sirius had been shoveling snow from the Charms corridor manually for over two hours. McGonagall had confiscated his wand, the rigid old cow, and Sirius was pretty sure that his hands were about to fall off from the cold. Gritting his teeth, he threw down his shovel and slumped against the freezing stone wall, exhausted.

"Psst!"

Sirius glanced up suspiciously, but the corridor remained deserted, except for-

"Padfoot, get a load of this!"

That was Peter's voice. And, as if to accompany it, a hand shot out of thin air to thrust the Marauder's Map at Sirius. He took it curiously, frowning as he scanned the grubby piece of parchment.

"What?"

"Out on the grounds – look for Prongs and Lily."

That was Remus' voice now, and from the sounds of it, he was smiling. Sirius' eyes suddenly lit on not two, but onedot duly labeled Lily Evans James Potter, and he grinned, punching the air.

"Way to go, Prongs!"

Remus' hand reappeared, gesturing for the map to be returned, and Sirius gazed at it fondly for a few moments before surrendering it.

"I think this calls for a celebratory drink, boys," he announced, beaming as he got to his feet.

"What about the rest of your detention?"

"Can I borrow your wand, Wormy?"

Another hand appeared offering a wand without question. Sirius waved it once, muttered 'evanesco' and grinned as the snow vanished.

"Thanks. I do believe my detention has finished, Moony. What do you say, old friend? Three Broomsticks?"

Emmeline lay in the dark, a small smile on her face as she dreamt. With one hand cast across her covers, and the other curled around her pillow, she looked positively peaceful. Sirius gazed at her momentarily, drinking in the messy, golden bed-hair and the sweetness of her expression. Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her again. He couldn't quite recall that last time: his mind had been on other things. But, quite unfortunately for Sirius Black, he had discovered his experience with Emmeline Vance to be somewhat addictive. Butterbeer and too much Firewhisky was clouding Sirius' thought process, and it was all he could do to keep his mind on the job. Sarcastic, witty Emmeline had never looked more vulnerable. Sirius grinned.

The screams started, Remus would approximate, at about one'o'clock in the morning. In the Gryffindor Tower, lights went on everywhere as the minor explosion sounded and the panic started… and then, the disgust. Sirius had actually done it – he'd pulled if off. Setting off Dungbombs was one thing, but setting Dungbombs off inside the girls' dorm rooms, after sneaking up the trick staircase (the one that turned into a slide whenever a boy stepped on it) at midnight whilst drunk was a fine achievement by any Marauder's standards. Remus grinned, rolled over in bed and promptly fell back asleep.

Emmeline sat up, and sniffed. How odd… Inhaling once more, just to be sure, she grimaced. That had to be, without doubt, the most disgusting thing that she had ever smelt.

Someone let out a loud, long snore, completely oblivious to the hideous scent that seemed to be penetrating the room.

Emmeline froze. Someone had snored? But no one in the room ever snored…

Peeling open her curtains, Emmeline was greeted by the sight of Sirius Black, curled up on the floor beside her bed. Taking a further tentative whiff, Emmeline frowned. Sirius smelt distinctly of Dungbombs… and Firewhisky. An odd combination if ever she had smelt it!

Emmeline shook her head, scowling at the handsome boy passed out on her bedroom floor. Everyone in the castle knew Sirius had issues, but honestly!

Tiredly groping around for her wand, Emmeline picked up her pillow and levitated the sleeping boy's form. It wouldn't do at all for the girls to wake up and find him in there.

Opening the door, Emmeline Vance unceremoniously dumped her Quidditch captain onto the stairs. Being, as they were, charmed to prevent boys from climbing them, the stairs immediately leveled, transforming into a steep stone slide. Watching Sirius startle in his sleep as the staircase gave way beneath him, Emmeline smiled, feeling strangely satisfied.

It wasn't often you got to throw an unconscious rat bag down the stairs, after all - even if he was a charming, self-depreciating rat bag.

As the steps reappeared, she made her own way down. Sirius was still curled up in a rumpled heap, having rolled to a halt against the leg of one of the study desks. He looked oddly peaceful, twisted into his little ball, and Emmeline really didn't have the heart to wake him.

Not when her bedroom stunk of methane and he happened to have what she presumed would be a lovely, comfortable, empty bed of his own, anyway.

Peter drew open the curtains about Sirius' bed, as he did every morning. Yawning, the boy bent over the bed, still half asleep, to begin the involved and often gradual process of awakening the bed's occupant.

Only, this particular morning, the slumbering person startled, opened their eyes and sat up immediately. Feeling that this was exceptionally odd behaviour, even for Mr. Unpredictable himself, Peter peeled open his eyes, and startled.

"Emmeline?"