This chapter is dedicated to DaMarauders because I genuinely thought I'd already dedicated a chapter to her?! Anyway, thank you for all the kind support!
Love you! ♥️♥️

(5th April 1978)

Sunlight spilled though the windows and into the room of requirement in rays, projecting a radiant sort of glow across the room in beguiling stripes.
When James woke up, he saw these sun rays and nearly felt welcomed by their cheerfulness.

Next to him lay Aliona, still sleeping soundly and facing away from him. She was positioned on her stomach, with her deep red hair splayed across her back. James allowed himself to admire how rather pretty she appeared in the light of the morning after. The skin of her bare back was soft and porcelain, a stark comparison to the red hair that lay in gentle waves around her, like a swirled wine glass. Vintage, red.

She had no freckles, unlike Lily, and it was easy to be grateful for this difference, as it was remarkably easy to begin drawing comparisons once again, and that was not something he wished to do.

Aliona Connolly was his friend, and they would share this secret when she woke. But for now, James sat and stared at the sunlight, catching the gleans of her hair, and warming the skin of her back.

He wasn't sure how long it took Aliona to stir, but it was still early. Her eyes flickered open gently, like butterflies fluttering their wings, and when she looked at him it was through heavily lidded eyelashes.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," James replied in a tone with a similar mugginess to it, smiling down at her. She beamed back.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Aliona sat up, not overly bothered about covering herself, but then why should it matter?
She pulled herself up and hugged James tightly. He shifted her closer and allowed himself to smell the strawberries in her hair one more time before he began to pull away. From there Aliona kissed him gently on the lips once, twice and then pulled back.

"Between us?"

"Between us."

She left soon after, taking their secret with her and leaving James in a room full of sunbeams smiling on him. He only wished this sense of optimism would last after he stepped out the room of requirement, though he highly doubted it.

Being here with Aliona felt like the eye of the storm, somewhere untouchable. But somewhere deep down James knew it wouldn't last. He would have to leave eventually, and face what he found on the outside.

♣ ♣ ♣

(5th April 1978 continued)

The feeling of serenity that had cloaked the room of requirement did not take long to wear off and instead it left a sinking feeling of regret. It had helped at the time, but now all the feelings they had pushed aside came flooding back tenfold. It was a phenomenon James should have anticipated, but somehow, even hours later, he couldn't quite seem to understand pain of it all.

"What's your problem?" Came a hiss from James' right. The classroom was relatively quiet and so it made Sirius' obnoxious voice painfully louder.

"You."

"Ha, bloody, ha!"

James ignored his best mate, and instead attempted to focus on the transfiguration theory in front of him. McGonogall had given him perhaps the most complicated problem he had ever seen, himself and Trudy seemed to be the only people with the same task but she was at the other side of the room, next to Aliona.

Seeing Aliona's red hair, weaving down her robes made James feel a little bit more sick. The parchment in front of him turned into a blur as his eyes became less focused in favour of losing himself in his thoughts.

"Prongs!"

"Padfoot."

"What is wrong with you?"

Sirius began poking James' side with the feather end of his quill.
"I swear to merlin, Sirius..."

He laughed, shouldering him and causing a blotch of ink to hit James' parchment.
"Look what you've done now, you big oaf!"

"Fuck off! There's something up with you, you won't tell me what it is, and now you're crying over spilled milk."

James glanced over at Aliona, "I don't want to get into it just now."

Sirius nodded, seeming to come down from his hyperactivity set on annoying James. He nodded, vanishing the blot of ink he made on the parchment and returned to annoying Remus from across the room instead.

"Mr Black, do not throw projectiles at Mr Lupin!"

"But Professor it's only paper!"

"You're torturing the poor boy! Don't make me take points!"

This made James snort. His mind may be elsewhere, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate his best mate getting a hiding.
Sirius himself looked only slightly more docile than he was half a minute ago. He slumped backwards in his chair and crossed his arms, frowning churlishly. James did he's best not to look amused. Perhaps this was what distractions were all about? He'd wasted his time with Aliona, he realised. It had worked for a while, but the aftermath had only made it worse.

Sirius seemed to have picked up on the slight change in James' mood, and so for his benefit, he began moving his paper-throwing wars to Peter who was struggling at the back.

"MR BLACK!"

♣ ♣ ♣

(4th April 1978 continued)

"Sirius might pretend to buy it, but I don't."

"Well perhaps you're just a better man."

"Wouldn't be too difficult."

"I'll tell him you said that."

Remus chuckled as he and James chatted over a mug of tea and a chessboard. It was quiet in the common room, especially since it was only James and Remus in a free period, the rest of their friends were in divination or herbology.

"You go ahead, it'll only fuel his ego."

James laughed, "best not then."

"That's what I thought."

Remus moved a knight and smirked, "check."

"Fuck."

This only made Remus' uncharacteristically caustic smirk widen, "I had you three moves ago."

James saw this as a fine opportunity to hit his friend, "piss off!"

"At least let me win first. Checkmate."

"Fine," he sighed, leaning back on the sofa and sighing slightly over-dramatically.

"So, what's the matter?"

"The matter?"

"There's always a matter."

At this, James sighed again and sunk further into the maroon sofa, as if he were praying it would swallow him hole.
"Moony, have you ever wondered if you deserve things you've been given?"

"I've never been given much."

"I miss Sirius."

Remus chuckled mordantly, "well maybe it's the entitlement that gets to you?"
When James only frowned, Remus was forced to continue.
"Well, when we were in fifth year, and arseholes in our own right, that came with a certain entitlement. And now we've decided to stop fooling around that way, you still have that entitlement; the money, high ranking father, Head Boy," Remus sniffed, feeling rather out of place, "so it's only natural that you still feel that same entitlement that we associate with being shits in early fifth year."

Neither of them noticed when the chess prices moved back to their original positions, self mending as they went.

"What's more," Remus went on, "is that you've given up nearly everything about being a shit except that entitlement –if anything you've actually got more– which makes it worse, I'd imagine."

This caused James to sigh, leaning back into his chair and sinking lower into its comfort.
"Well fuck."

"Fuck indeed."

James sighed, "alright then. That was fun, Moony."

"Don't humour me."

He laughed puckishly, "oh not at all, Remus, it was truly a pleasure to be psychoanalysed by you!"

"Fuck off. Marlene said you've got timetabling to do."

Standing up, James bowed with an air of flourish that was nearly worthy of Sirius Black himself, "how charming."

Remus gave James a two fingered salute as he walked out the door and to the prefect offices, leaving with more to think about than he's ever had.

♣ ♣ ♣

(4th March 1978 continued)

It was around ten at night, just after seventh year curfew when James clambered back into the portrait hole, exhausted but with his patrol timetable complete.

Upon entry, James realised that Marlene was not alone in the common room. Sirius and Remus were with her, sharing the loveseat by the fire while Marlene sat on a small pile of cushions on the floor, cross legged with a cigarette in her hand, smoking casually. The fire was lit but emitted no heat.

"Is there a convention going on here?" James asked, only half joking, but when Marlene stood up, straightening her skirt over her stockings and Sirius lifted his head off Remus' shoulder, James realised it was highly possible he was correct.

Marlene folded her arms and James resisted the urge to cower.
"We know."

"Know what?"

Sirius shrugged, "that you slept with her."

"Who?"

"Little Bo Peep," Remus deadpanned, "Aliona! Who else?"

As soon as the words left his lips, James cursed, looking away from the three of them and taking a deep breath.
"How did you figure it out?"

"Marls has known you since you were nine, Moony and I since you were twelve. It wasn't a reach."

Persistent in appearing aloof, James began pacing the room, producing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with the tip of his wand.
"So what's your point?"

"Well... why?"

"Does it matter?"

This caused Marlene to sigh, "of course it fucking does! Because you're in love with Lily and you have to stop doing this if you ever want to be with her!"

"And what if she doesn't want to be with me?"

Sirius scoffed at the same time Remus fixed James with a sympathetic look (if anyone knew what that felt like– it was Remus).

"It doesn't matter anyway," James persisted, "it's done now. My choice. I don't need an intervention."

"What are you on about, Prongs?"

For a split second, James considered telling them. Getting that letter from his bedside drawer, and showing them just how much it didn't matter to Lily. How much he didn't matter to Lily.

"Of course it matters."

James shook his head, taking a long final drag from his cigarette before handing it to Sirius.
"Nah, it not important anymore. I'm going to have a shower, you're free to talk about me as much as you like."

He left the room without looking back, leaving his three friends nearly looking sheepish, but too proud to admit as much.
He would think in the shower, for long enough to imagine turning to water and washing away...

(4th April 1978)

Joyce Fortescue was a formidable woman, Lily realised not for the first time that rainy afternoon. Alice's grandmother had a way of commanding respect wherever she went, sixty-eight years of age and living like she was thirty. Joyce was an inspiring woman, more than most.

On that particular day, Joyce Fortescue was leading Alice, Lily, and Dorcas through the high-street in the rain, battling the elements as if they meant nothing to her. When they arrived in the third wedding shop they'd been to, Lily imagined that Joyce would have had enough of bratty shop attendants and even vitriolic brides milling about the shop, but somehow she greeted the woman at the desk with a polite smile as she got a huff in return.

"We'd like to look at your fabrics. My granddaughter and myself are interested in making her own wedding dress and we're looking for sufficient means."

The attendant was a redhead with bored brown eyes and thin pink lips set in a line of apathetic boredom. She set her eyes on a hopeful looking Alice and back to Joyce before huffing again.
"Follow me," her voice was low, scratching with vogue cigarettes and impatience.

The redhead led them to a small room with racks of fabric, "pick whatever," she said before turning her back on them and walking towards another woman working in the boutique. This woman was slightly older with greying blonde hair and the same tedious gleam in her pale blue eyes.

The group of four began to cruise the racks, looking for the type of fabric Alice was hoping for. Lily was nearing the two attendants, and as she got closer their topic of conversation became increasingly apparent.

"She's far too young to be married. That poor old lady is spending far too much money on something that won't even be made!" The blonde whispered with a snigger.

Lily felt her blood boil as the redhead answered lowly, "and she's hardly pretty, is she? If not a little plain. I can't imagine many boys wanting to marry that sort of girl, especially so young."

Lily had rounded on them before she had time to consider what she was going to say.
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

The redhead looked startled, but quickly recovered her look of disinterest.
"Don't we? We've seen this before, sweetie. I don't know if you've got a boy at home –your bitter tone suggests no– but I can tell you think that some people know exactly what they want when they're young. Newsflash, they usually don't. So your plain looking friend will be chucked before she can blink."

Lily wasn't sure why this cut her deeper than it angered her for Alice, but she pushed it to one side, leaning forward and saying through gritted teeth, "you do not know shit about my friends. I will not hear you speak of them in that way again."

She imagined it was only slightly intimidating, part of her wondered if they might laugh in her face? But there was only a look of unadulterated fear before they ran from the room.

Lily frowned as she watched them leave, and only when she looked away and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror did she realise why they had ran. Her irises were almost completely black with anger, and two tears of blood ran from her cheeks. Accidental magic ran through her veins, it was so disguised by the anger that she'd barely felt it until now.

"Shit," she whispered before following the girls out the door and to the toilets, where she waited for the feeling to go away.

Closed up in a bathroom stall with nothing else to think about, Lily considered the weight of the attendants earlier words. 'I can tell you think some people know exactly what they want when they're young. Newsflash, they don't.'

It had struck such a nerve because it was right. Lily had no idea what she wanted, and Alice? She seemed to have the world lined up for her, and it appeared to be everything she had ever wanted. But Lily was putting herself backwards, taking the turns at every interval that would slow down the race. Alice had nearly all the answers that Lily ever thought she needed, which was why we knew her friend would only continue to have the answers into marriage. As for Lily? She had never really known, the only thing she had ever wanted all her life was to have the magic they had attempted to bury within her; the magic that left her here, hiding in a bathroom and waiting for it to wear off. Magic was the only constant Lily had, magic and Alice.

Perhaps she should prove that attendant wrong? Perhaps she should begin to figure out what it was she really wanted? Because for so long, Lily had lived with the belief that the only things she wanted were out of reach. Well, she would reach them, as soon as she figured out what they were.

The little golden necklace on her collarbone seemed to pulse with joy. It was likely her magic beginning to wear away and take other forms, but there was no way of knowing, but the little thing always seemed to know how she felt...

♥ ♥ ♥

(4th April 1978 continued)

There are flowers on the table when Lily got home. They sit innocuously in a glass vase, smiling at her something purple and somber, an apology.

Lily recalled the days when flowers on the table used to mean it was Friday, when Martin brought home flowers for Faith, and the house would buzz with the delight of it all. Voices would laugh and welcome her home.
Nowadays flowers meant surrender. Flowers only ever occupied that vase when Lily's father wanted to apologise, it meant he'd given in on pushing back, and those flowers were a symbol of his cowardice, of his desire to keep the love he had held onto for so long. The flowers filled her with a rage the colour of blood.

It was only as she was walking past the living room and to the staircase that Lily heard the hushed voices, whispering to one another. She knew what it meant, but the compulsion to feed her anger made her creep across the hall and look for herself. On the loveseat were Faith and Martin Evans, whispering to each other like teenagers and passing Martin's cigar between them. The sight sickened her further, while the deepest parts of her angry and ugly heart began to melt. It might have seemed ridiculous to be so furious at such a pure scene of love, if Lily didn't know what had come before, and what would undoubtedly come next. It wouldn't be long before the cycle would go round again, and Faith would do something that would warrant her own apology, and Martin would give her one instead. The dead flowers would be replaced with the same beautiful ones Lily was looking at, and it would only be so long before they died too.

It was completely accidental that she made the glass vase shatter to the floor with her magic. It happened before she had time to stop it, and she didn't wait long enough to see if her parents were startled. Instead, Lily ran up the stairs and into her bedroom. Willing the memory of something happy and beautiful to disappear before her doe arrived.

There was a clattering of shelves which Lily assumed to mean the glass was being cleared away, but she found it was difficult to care. While someone was clearing the glass, Lily heard the other approach her bedroom door. The gentle double knock assured Lily it was her father.
"Yes?" There was no use in sounding short, so she schooled her expression to an impassive look as her father entered.

Martin Evans saw his daughter lying on her bed, fully clothed and worn from the magic they had tried to forget, and he nodded gravely.
"Tink, do you mind if I tell you something?"

"Fire away."

"There will come a point in life, maybe not today or anytime soon, but one day you will realise that some battles are less damaging when you choose not to fight them. It causes less harm to lose than it does to win."

Lily did not look at her father, instead she fixed the ceiling with a stare of distain.

"Maybe you'll find it out once you love someone for the first time. It's the desire to minimise hurt that drives every decision one takes. Maybe you see it as cowardice, but give it some time. And try not to hate your mother, or me."

Still Lily said nothing, but his words unraveled her like a spiral and she blinked tears down her cheeks. Martin pretended not to notice, nor did he question why.
"Goodnight, Lily."

When he left, Lily barely registered the silence of the house. Her father's words were true, she realised, and she hadn't bothered to consider them until she allowed his logic to be applied to herself.

'one day you will realise that some battles are less damaging when you choose not to fight them. It causes less harm to lose than it does to win.' It was this in particular that broke her resolve. Hadn't she done that with James? Perhaps choosing to close herself off to James made her like her father– not fighting the battles that might do more harm to win. So she chose not to be with him at all, and avoid the life her parents led.

There was a theory Lily had heard, though she couldn't remember who's, that every child lives the same life as their parents. They make the same choices, under different circumstances, and end up in the same place. No matter how determined a child is to be different, all they are in the end is a copy of their parents.

Lily had done her best to be different, and somehow she had ended up just like her father. A coward in love and too afraid to be anything more.
Whoever's theory it was, Lily was positive they would take no joy in having it proved correct.

♥ ♥ ♥

(4th April 1978 continued)

Lily decided to wait for Lucifer later that night, she sat by her desk and wondered if he would come. Perhaps she would wait for hours, or perhaps the witching hour was too dark for him to be seen.

She had nearly gone to bed when he appeared, late into the witching hour. She blinked and he was there, like he always had been. His back leaning casually against the lamppost, and a hood hiding the features that Lily knew were smiling at her.

Fear crept into her veins, cold, palpable and ugly in that moment. Then he winked and everything around them stopped for a deep second. Time pooled around Lucifer's shoulders like a cape as he walked away into the night. Shadows twisted unnaturally underneath his feet...

(5th April 1978)

Jasmine Sempere arrived in the aurors offices early that morning. She promised Fleamont Potter she would meet with him before the end of the week to discuss the new missing case and her progress with Mary MacDonald's attack.

The office was flooded with aurors in uniform, a crimson red and gray affair with a ruby travelling cloak, though most carried this on their arm indoors.
Jasmine had worn her uniform to the offices that day, though hers had a royal purple sleeve to set her apart as a snatcher taskforce worker.

She wished Lucas had come with her. Without her newly acquired work partner she felt slightly naked, despite the friendly greetings she earned from those that knew her in the corridors.

Fleamont Potter's office was at the far end of the corridor, and upon reaching it she knocked tentatively. It swung open on the command of a charm. It's caster was sitting behind a large oak desk with an amiable smile on his face; next to him sat Millard McQuade.
Both men had silver hair, though Fleamont's was longer and considerably more wild, and at the time, only Fleamont was smiling.

"Jasmine! Take a seat, please."
Fleamont Potter was the sort of man that acquired respect by giving it to others. He did not demand to be listened to, he rather earned his respect with his patience to listen to others first. He smiled reassuring at Jazzy while she look a seat next to McQuade.
"So, how is progress going with Mary MacDonald's case?"

"I believe we're getting considerably closer. The memory charm worked on Mary is showing positive signs of being the same one worked on the last four missing children. I came in today not only to talk with you, but to check the files I'd gathered on those charms and more earlier."

"And it's just as well you're here," Fleamont replied, reaching into his desk drawer, "as I have the latest charms report conducted by Ester Ryde– one of the most charms proficient aurors on my team, aside from you of course!" Fleamont winked and Jazzy laughed politely.

"As of yet we do not have a better motive than Mary's blood status, however we are looking into more personal, or practical, reasons for attack."

This piqued Millard's interest as he rounded on her with raised eyebrows, "you say practical? In what sense?"

Jasmine shrugged ever so slightly, reaching for her packet of cigarettes as she answered, "I'm not entirely sure, myself and Lucas are working on that. But we have every reason to believe that this attack may have been something like practise."

Millard frowned, "for what?"

"That was exactly my question, sir."
Jasmine lit a cigarette held between her teeth and offered the same to Fleamont and Millard. The later accepted gratefully while the former declined with a smile and a shake of his head.
"You're just like your son these days, Mr Potter."

"Oh?" The beginnings of a smile was pulling at Fleamont's lips as he awaited her explanation.

"He's begun refusing cigarettes as of late. Marlene tells me it's got something to do with a girl. Whoever she is must be special if she's pulling him away from his one true love."

At his Fleamont laughed aloud, a slightly raspy sound from the age of his laughter and years of good use.
"James is a dedicated boy."

To this Jasmine could only agree, "word on the street is the girl is a muggle," she added with a shrug and a drag of her cigarette, "so naturally all the young witches are devastated."

"A muggle?" Millard asked.

She nodded, "I'm not entirely in the know on the situation. But apparently it's a local Cokeworth girl he's got it bad for."

"Ah, I do believe I've seen him climb into the house opposite's window once or twice," Fleamont nodded.

"That may well be her. If you want any more detail then ask your son, or Sirius, he'd probably be delighted at the chance to embarrass James."

"Likely."

Millard put out his cigarette then and began to stand, "sorry to break up this conversation, and as much as I enjoy hearing incriminating stories about James, I must get going. I've got business in Aberdeenshire– there's a protected village that needs the wards reset."

"Would you like me to come along? I'm not due back at Hogwarts until this evening." Jazzy inquired politely, making to stand up as well.

"No, I'll let you get on with the Mary MacDonald case. Give the girl my best wishes though. Hopefully we'll hear from you soon."

Jasmine stood with her superior and nodded, "it was a pleasure to see you again, sir."

Millard left with a nod, leaving Jasmine with Fleamont.
"Jasmine?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Take care of yourself, and if you've got time to spare then take care of James. I saw him in Cokeworth a few days ago and I've reason to believe things aren't exactly wonderful with him and the girl he's refusing cigarettes in aid of. He wouldn't tell me if I asked but you two are friends."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you Jasmine."

She smiled, "you can call me Jazzy, sir, I don't mind."

Fleamont nodded, an easy smile toying with his features, "alright then Jazzy. Send word if there are any developments on the case. You can address them to me or Mr McQuade, because who knows where I'll be at the end of the month."

"Sir?"

At her questioning, Jazzy's boss smiled sadly, "it's likely I won't survive in this position to see the end of the month. If disappearances continue at such an alarming rate then I could be gone sooner than that. The Daily Prophet are nailing my coffin as we speak."

Hearing her boss talk that way unsettled Jasmine slightly, but she didn't let it affect her new purpose. She would go back to Hogwarts with a much better purpose, not only to solve this case for Mary but for Fleamont who desperately needed a win to buy himself more time in office.

"I'm sorry sir."

"Don't be."

Jasmine nodded, "thank you anyway, for the charms file, I'll send it back by owl once I've studied it." She made to go to the door before turning at the last second, "and I'll see if James still takes cigarettes."

"Thank you, Jazzy."

"It's my job." With that she slipped out the office door and headed to the fireplaces to floo back to Hogwarts.

♣ ♣ ♣

(5th April 1978 continued)

Despite it being somewhat smaller, Lucas's office seemed to be the place that the two aurors met most often. It was kept in a fair order on a usual day, the papers and rolls of parchment tended to stay in a pile on the far side of his desk, while the other files and books were kept on the desk opposite. However that particular afternoon, Jazzy and Lucas poured over a widespread roll of parchment with odd drawings and notes added in various colours of ink. It had began as a colour coded map, however as more notes were added, the thing spun into a larger state of disarray and instead began resembling a peculiar, inky firework.

"Are you absolutely sure, Jazz?" Lucas asked, his demeanour resembling the parchment in front of them; his glasses sat on the end of his nose; his cornfield coloured was hair rumpled nearly as much as James Potter was famous for; there was a plethora of coloured inks on his hands, and his shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, poorly.

"Did you read the file?"

"Of course I read the bloody file."

Jazzy tutted and pointed to the far end of their parchment where two identical markings sat next to each other in blue and purple ink respectively. With a wave of her wand, both levitated off the page and stood next to each other suspended in midair.
"Take another look!"

"I'm fucking looking, Jazz, but I don't know what you want me to see!"

"If these are the same then it means the spells are almost identical."

"Yes, but this one is poorly done."

"Not by much."

Lucas shrugged, "no. And this is supposed to mean?"

"I told you already, I was discussing it with McQuade and Potter: practise."

"You're making less and less sense, love."

"I get it, I know it sounds like I'm losing the place, but I assure you, Millard was interested."

This caused Lucas' maple eyes to widen behind his circular glasses, "McQuade was interested? Isn't he always pretty logical?"

"This is logical, Luke!"

"Can't we speak with him together before we go making assumptions?"

Jasmine shook her head, "he's in Aberdeenshire looking after a warded town."

"And Potter?"

"Wanted me to look into this further."

Lucas nodded again, leaning forward on the table, the palms of his ink-stained hands flat against the oak. Jasmine noticed for the first time that he wore a blue McKinnon ring on his smallest finger.
"Alright then. Let's look into it, but we don't tell the Magical Prejudice Protection until we have concrete evidence that Mary's attack was... 'practice'."

"Alright, agreed."

At the final decision being made, both aurors seemed to relax. Jasmine slumped against the table, while Lucas nearly collapsed onto his forearms against the table.
"Seal it with a kiss?"

"In your dreams, McKinnon."

He laughed, "worth a shot."

They sat together in silence and Jasmine wondered if it would be so bad if she'd said yes. But there were more pressing matters to deal with. Matters that could lead to the biggest breakthrough not only on Mary MacDonald's case, but on the entire snatcher case.

Something was about to crack wide open. She could feel it coming...

Sorry this chapter is so short! I swear I've written chapters twice as long as this one but I didn't see the point in adding unnecessary scenes just to make the chapter longer, so please enjoy an extremely short one!

Also I literally wrote this in three days which is a big deal for me so round of applause I had to hold onto it because i was finished so early!

Anyway, hope everyone is doing well and enjoying the book! More jily coming soon, don't worry!

All my love,

Abbi♥️