"James, we haven't had sex since --" Lily's voice died away before finishing the sentence.

James lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling, one arm folded under his head, the other over his chest. He bit his lip.

Since the test.

Since being found inadequate.

James took a deep breath.

"It doesn't have to be about trying," Lily whispered, and she ran her palm over the arm on his chest, leaning closer to him, her leg crooking over his so that her pelvis pressed against his hip and thigh. Her red hair fell over her shoulder, spilled onto the mattress beside his cheek, and she stared down into his eyes. Her eyes were so piercingly, hauntingly green. "I just want you." Her voice was low, sultry.

James stared back up at her. "Evans..."

"I miss the feeling of you, James," she whispered, leaning closer, her lips touched his ear as her hand slid over his abdomen, slowly lower, over his muscled skin and under the band of his pyjamas. "I miss the weight of you, and the taste of you. I miss the feeling of you..." She nipped the soft skin just under his ear and James tilted his head back, his hips rising slightly to her palm as she slid under the cloth...

He was losing his breath, losing his mind in the best way, the tattoo of inadequate that beat in his heart burying itself under a different throbbing...

But Lily's hands found nothing between his legs to grab onto. She pulled back and her face broke into laughter. "James, where is your --"

" -- jacket? James? Love? Did you fall asleep? Sweetie, we're supposed to leave in fifteen minutes and you're not even dressed... I've got the potion here; up, up love." Lily patted his knee urgently.

James groaned.

"Come on, up and at'em," Lily's voice was militant.

"Alright, Evans..." He rolled over, sliding his legs off the side of the bed.

For his own peace of mind, he pulled his pyjama pants out a way and glanced down, then slid his hand in to make sure everything was where it ought to be. He'd never been so glad to feel himself in tact and he let out a stressed sigh. "Thank Merlin," he muttered, letting go before he got any sort of reaction going.

"James, what are you doing?" Lily demanded, having come back 'round to his side of the room. She stood at the end of the bed, hands on her hips, an eyebrow raised.

"Uhhh..." James got up from the bed and grinned stupidly, not wanting to tell her about his weird dream.

"Honestly!" Lily shook her head and went 'round the other side of the bed.

James rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and hunched sleepily, staring out the window at the street lamps outside, glowing in foggy air outside. He glanced at his watch, sniffing, and saw it was somehow only half ten. Granted, he'd been exhausted after the Odair wedding, but it felt like it ought to be well after midnight at least. He was pulling on his jacket when Lily came over and tucked a small vial of polyjuice potion into the inside breast pocket of the jacket. "Here you are," she said, patting his chest. "We'll take that when we get to London."

He caught her arms before she could turn away and she looked up at him. "James?"

He had a hundred questions - nothing to do with the mission or anything that would seem relevant to her, though, just the things that were racing through his mind thanks to that bleeding dream.

Do you think I'm inadequate, Evans?

It was on the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth to ask, but before the words came out, she tilted her head and asked, "Are you alright? Nervous about the polyjuice?" She frowned, "It's really not horribly scary, haven't you used it before? It gets some getting used to, it's a strange feeling - when I was Remus for his classes back in May, it was very odd feeling - particularly the bit of being a man - being Remus," she said, laughing. "But don't worry, James, I've gotten us disguises that won't be quite that dramatic of an experience." She stood up on her tip-toes and kissed his chin. "You'll still be a man." She winked.

The insinuation hit a little too close and James felt his nerves twitch as Lily laughed - also too close to his worries - and she turned away, gathering her wand and slipping it into the wand pocket on her jacket.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked instead. It wasn't sanctioned by Dumbledore. Sure, Dumbledore had mentioned this night - Snape and Dolohov, planning to meet someone at a pub in Highgate... and whoever it was they were meeting, Dumbledore had said all James would have to do, as a spy that night, was find out who it was they were meeting.

"It is of utmost importance that we find out who it is those men are meeting that night, James," Dumbledore had said. "Of course I have... Order members... already keeping an eye out, but I should rather their identities do not become compromised in anyway, and there are prior engagements which would keep them from being readily available to go to this particular meeting that would make their identities quite obvious. Now, to keep their identities concealed, I am afraid that I must ask you to take their places. I am certain that you and Mrs. Potter would do a most excellent job."

"Who is..."

"Even among fellow Order members."

James had raised an eyebrow.

"The less you know about one another assignments, the better it is for you, and the easier to cut off leaks of information and to find traitors amongst us," Dumbledore explained, "You understand, of course."

"I suppose so, sir," James had said.

"Excellent. The contacts that Voldemort is making lately have been disturbing, to say the least, and you have seen first hand that he's made contact with the Giants as well as the Werewolves. We have reasons to be concerned with what comes next..." Dumbledore had stared at James, imploring a decision on the spot.

But when James had hesitated and insisted that he speak to Lily first, Dumbledore hadn't elaborated further on the purpose of the meeting, and then he hadn't mentioned this particular assignment again. "I mean, maybe we should wait until we've talked to Dumbledore about what it is he's actually wanting us to do."

Lily said, "We both agreed he has the potential for good, and we both agreed, too, that Dumbledore tends to overlook the potential for goodness in people in positions similar to Severus's."

James nodded, thinking of Regulus.

"The contact could be invaluable if we can make it, don't you think?"

"Of course," James replied.

"And we may just be able to get the information Dumbledore wanted in the first place as well. We know the usual... spies... aren't going to be there, and we know that Severus will. We should use this opportunity."

James nodded. "You're right. Of course you're right."

"Then come on, love."

James nodded and followed after her, paused at the door way, and doubled back, grabbing his wand from his nightstand and shoving it into the leather scabbard hanging from his belt loop under the jacket.

Severus Snape sat at a table in the shadows of a pub, a glass on the table before him held amber a dark amber liquid. His eyes were trained on the pattern of the wood table top before him, unfocused, reaching out with his mind, scanning the thoughts of the people in the room... checking for spies.

Across from him, Antonin Dolohov ran his finger tip over the rim of a short glass of vodka, the bottle on the table between them. Dolohov studied Snape, then picked up his little glass and knocked the Beluga back in a quick swallow, slamming the glass down.

Snape's eyes cut to Dolohov's, fierce and irritated at being interrupted by the banging of the other man's fist and glass to the table.

Dolohov's mouth didn't so much as twitch as he wrenched the cap from the bottle and poured himself another helping. "Chertrovski skuchno," he muttered, shaking his head. "Mudak."

Snape raised his eyebrow. He could see the translation in Dolohov's mind. The other man could see that Snape knew the translation by the twitch of the muscle in Severus's cheek, and he bared an ugly toothy sneer of amusement as a result. "Jus' hurry it up with your little parlor tricks, Snape," Dolohov grunted, "Some of us have real business here tonight."

"It would do you well to remember that it very well may be my... parlor tricks... which will keep you alive as you conduct that business, Dolohov," Snape said coldly, lowly, glowering at the man across the table.

Dolohov snorted and gulped down the vodka in his glass before slamming the table yet again, making Snape jump and then glare like an angry cat. Dolohov laughed quietly.

Snape turned back to his appraisal of the room. Most of the people there were muggles, mingling about, talking and drinking, their voices melding together in a general cacophony, their thoughts even more jumbled and messy. Severus filtered through the voices and images filling the room, then murmured to Dolohov, "Your man is by the bar... the grey jacket. He's distracted; thinking about the scent of girl next to him. There's a second outside having a smoke, but if you move now you'll have a few minutes alone. His bodyguard won't waste the cigar to come back in too quickly. They aren't expecting you."

Dolohov smiled, poured himself one last shot of the Beluga, and slid out of the seat across from Snape. He was thinking up all sorts of condescending lines - nothing sharp enough to bother saying outloud, but irritating to Severus none the less - and then he straightened his jacket, sliding his wand up his sleeve so that he held the end of it in his palm, concealed, but at the ready.

"Let me know when the bodyguard is coming," he hissed, and he disappeared among the crowd, headed for the bar.

Snape's lip curled with disgust and he looked away, drawing a deep breath. He kept the legilimency lines open, the edges of his mind moving through the thoughts of the people in the pub, sifting for anything he may need to pay attention to, keeping watch on the cigar-puffing man on the street outside. Leaning back into the corner of the booth he sat in, Snape took a sip of the drink before him.

The muggles in the pub were going on with their everyday muggle lives, completely unaware of the ramifications of who was there, lurking among their mirth and frivolities. The scantily clad girl directly beside Dolohov's target was considering going home with him. He had bought her three drinks already - he looked rich and she could do with a bit of spoiling, if he'd have her - but what she couldn't see that Severus could... just how bad of a decision that would be for her. Luckily for her, Dolohov was stepping up to his target, about to ruin her plans.

That's when he heard it, familiar to him, and sticking out like a high note struck on a piano in the midst of a low, dark funeral dirge. He looked around the pub, his heart rate picking up, searching for Lily Evans - he refused to think of her true last name - but he couldn't see her. He slid out of the booth, abandoning the glasses and Dolohov's bottle of Beluga, looking around the room with narrowed eyes, flickering between all the faces and bodies that pressed and moved to a beat of music playing overhead. He craned his neck... but he couldn't see her anywhere.

Dolohov was glancing his way from the bar as he spoke in low tones with the man he'd come to meet with, keeping an eye on Snape's motions as he moved through the people in the pub. Dolohov was tense, worried the movement of Snape indicated something was going awry, wondering where Snape was going...

Severus held onto the shimmery sound of Lily's thoughts. She, too, was nervous and looking for someone in the room, and he suddenly got a flash of his own self in her mind and he turned, looking directly at her in the vision, but not seeing her with his eyes. Instead, before him, stood a plump blonde woman who was whispering into the ear of a skinny brown haired man with all too familiar glasses set upon his nose.

Potter.

Severus Snape glanced over his shoulder at Dolohov and met his eyes. He waved his palm, signaling for Dolohov that things were fine - though honestly he'd become so distracted by the sound of Lily Evans' thoughts that he had no idea now where the cigar-smoking accomplice had got off to, nor what Dolohov's target was thinking. When Dolohov looked away, Snape refocused on the plump blonde and started across the pub toward her.

The blonde whispered something more into the man's ear, and he shook his head, glancing at Snape, before the blonde whispered again and the man sighed and motioned to the bar, taking a few steps away through the crowd, leaving the blonde there as Severus Snape approached. Snape could feel his eyes on him, though.

Snape stepped up beside her, lingering a moment, before he hissed quietly, "Lily?"

"Sev?" she whispered back.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "What are you doing?"

"Checking on you," she answered.

"Is the Order here?" he asked.

"No" she replied.

"Are you supposed to be.... conversing... with your enemy?" he drawled.

"Are you?" the plump blonde woman before him asked. She had nothing of Lily's eyes, of course, and aside from the recognition of the feeling of being in her mind, Severus might not have believed it was Lily in there at all, the polyjuice had worked quite well.

Severus was quiet a moment. "Did... the Headmaster... send you?" Severus could see the his face - jovial, grey, and lined with age - in her thoughts. "Of course he did," he murmured, answering her thought. "I suppose you're meant to spy upon me and go back with all sorts of information about my work here, are you? You and him? I suppose it was Potter's idea? Thinking that you could get me to tell you everything about why I'm here, use my trust for you to bait me?"

Lily said, "Actually the headmaster asked him and he wanted to decline."

Snape frowned and bit back a sharp reply because in that moment, he felt something amongst he thoughts - more of an emotion really, which was usually more honest. It was something like trust emanating from her, directed at him.

"I'm not here on Dumbledore's orders, Sev. Not yet. This is... sort of a rogue pre-mission, if you will." She paused and looked up into his face.

Snape raised his eyebrow.

"Why did you help those kids, Sev?"

Silence. He knew what she spoke of, of course, he could see their faces in her mind.

"James thinks it may have been some coincidence, like you made your move in order to trace him through Oliver Kent," her voice was low, "But I don't know. I don't see any point. Why would You Know Who give a damn about five orphan boys - at least one of which is muggle and all of which would be muggle-born at most - when he has the entire wizarding world to overtake? And the way you did it, making such a scene, calling attention to what could've been such a clandestine attack? That was passion. I don't think it had anything to do with You Know Who - and possibly not even anything to do with James. But I need to know what it is."

Severus stared at her.

"Sev, please."

"What good would you knowing the truth about that do?" Severus asked, voice low and heavy. He leaned closer, eyes locked with hers. "How could that possibly help the Order?"

"It doesn't help the Order, really." The eyes of the plump blonde searched his for a moment. He wished they were Lily's green ones, though he could sort of feel the intensity of them despite the difference in their appearance. "It helps me." She whispered, "Your intentions matter to me, Sev."

"Why?"

"Because despite all the utter shit you've pulled in the past, all the rubbish you've done to me, I for some ridiculous reason still think you have some ability to be a good person." She paused, then added, "And so does James."

Severus scoffed. "Right."

"He does," she pressed. "He saw how you were when we were looking for --" she paused, then changed her wording, "In March. When - all that - happened."

Severus scowled.

"Your intentions then were good, weren't they? To help us? To help - him? Just like they were good to help those boys."

Severus murmured, "You know my history, my past, where I come from. Can you not see my intention already?"

Lily stared at him expectantly.

"No child should... be put through... that. There were too many... similarities."

Lily grabbed his hand discreetly. Her intention was to incorporate him - to see if what he said now was truth or lie - and there was a flash:

The crack of a leather belt.

The shattering sound of glass.

But Severus quickly pulled his hand back and stared at her. "How did you do that?"

"What?"

"See my mind."

"Oh you felt that, did you?"

He stared at her. "Stay out of my mind."

Lily laughed quietly, "Tables turn, Sev?"

"How did you do it?" he asked again.

She didn't answer. Instead, she said, "Your good intentions - you should act on them."

Severus scowled. "I'm indebted and have no choice but to fulfill an obligation."

"There are options. There are always options."

He stared at her.

"Think about it," she said. And he could see when he looked at her mind. She was picturing him - working with her, with James Potter, picturing him trading secrets, slowly double crossing, handing over the carefully built empire the Dark Lord was organizing...

It was... tempting.

But then another stream of thoughts that he had been listening for distracted him as Severus turned his head and saw the second of the targets entering the pub, tucking the remainder of a very expensive, very old Italian cigar into his coat pocket, making his way across the room toward the bar where Antonin Dolohov stood, speaking lowly...

Severus hissed, "You need to go."

"You don't want You Know Who in power anymore than I do, Sev, not really," she pleaded, catching his arm. Again, another flash:

The man with the cigar moving through the crowd, passing James at the bar now. He had to alert Dolohov. The man that Dolohov was talking to... the clink of dark red vials in Dolohov's palm as he made the offer they'd come to give...

"I haven't got time right now to make life choices," Severus hissed, ripping his arm away from her. "You. Are. In. Danger. Being here tonight is dangerous for you. Your... husband... ought to be taking better care to see to it that you are protected... I am not the most dangerous person in the room, despite what he is standing over there thinking." He glared at her. "And stop doing whatever it is you are doing when you touch me." He turned and started to walk away.

"Loving you?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, he looked back at her, eyes wide.

The polyjuice was starting to wear ever so slightly. The irises of her eyes were fading from blue into green and Severus stared at them. It was like watching ice melt and he swallowed back the emotion rising up in him.

She could see a better version of himself in her mind.

It was that version she loved.

That version that he wasn't sure existed.

And besides that, however deep it might be, the love was platonic.

Always platonic.

He wasn't interested in platonic.

"Take your... husband... and go home," he hissed.

"Sev - we can help you," she tried.

"Your polyjuice is wearing off," he murmured, and he turned quickly and swept away.