A/N: Surprise! Alright, ladies and gents. Welcome back! We're doing this thing. Chapter 24 of 31. This is a little bitty chapter, but things are moving again-yay! Stay tuned. Thanks for your continued reviews and favorites, and thanks for sticking with me (especially for poking me to get along with it). Tons of thanks to my beta Zayz, who got this read and back to me in a day!

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Enjoy :)
Mina

TWENTY FOUR: LULL

"Lily! Lily, help!"

Fire. Fire—life and death and orange tongues the color of my hair—licks up buildings, trees, cars. It rushes past me, crackling, blows heat into me, drives smoke deep into my lungs. I am on fire, inside and out. My skin melts. I feel individual eyelashes burn, glowing bright at the top of my vision. I hear my clothes disintegrate, fall from my body, leaving me naked and blackened.

And the screaming. "Help! Somebody help! Lily!"

Someone else is on fire, trapped in the house that used to be my home. My mother's hyacinth bush next to the stairs is a pile of ash. It occurs to me that it is her voice I hear, but I have melted to the street, the skin of my feet rooting me to the asphalt. A screech comes from my throat and smoke pours out from behind my teeth. It sits on my tongue, a coat of heavy charcoal.

"Mum!"

"Lily!" she screams. "LILY!"

My hand moves to grab my wand, but instead of the familiar wood, there is a knife. I bring it up to my face. In the glinting reflection of its surface, I see my eyes: red. My eyes are red and orange and yellow and blue, flickering, glinting against the knife as I blink. No pupils, only this energy, this heat.

I bend down and cut my feet from the road. I feel no pain, though blood seeps from my flapping skin and the precious white that is my bone. I am fire. I am free.

"Mum! I'm coming!"

I charge up the porch stairs. They crumple to dust behind me. The door falls off of its hinges as I push it aside. The whole house is falling apart as I look at it; the familiar rooms, all of our portraits, all of our precious family knickknacks, they're all in flames. I duck as a beam from the ceiling falls, but a nail that had held it up scrapes across the melted skin down my back. It pulls me to the floor, and I am pinned.

"Lily… I can't—"

"Mum! Mum, no! I'm coming!"

The beam won't move. It's burning, I see it from the corner of my eye as I am pushed against the floor, feel the flames weaving across my bare skin. The fire just wants to be my friend, wants to embrace me; I am its family. We are both fire. But I just want to save my mother.

"You can't."

I try to turn my head, but I know it's him. James. He kneels beside me and takes the knife from my hand. He is dressed in white, but nothing touches him. My fire, my smoke—for all of this is mine, all of this is my doing—doesn't touch him here.

As soon as his hand touches my face, the screams get louder, harder to ignore. Tears leak from my eyes, and these actually hurt. They clink to the floor, like bells, like heavy weights, and I can see that they are made of lead. My mother wails.

"You can't save her," James says, not unkindly, but the way he looks at that knife… "I'm sorry."

He raises it above his head. "I'm sorry," he repeats. I don't try to stop him. I close my eyes, those molten tears hopefully sealing my ugly, hellish eyes shut, and pray that it is fast.

The knife plunges into my back. Mum's screaming stops. I am not dead - I am fire. I feel James lean down, and it takes only a second, after he kisses my temple, to register the icy pain as the knife twists.

- QS -

I woke up on the floor, twisted in sheets, my throat sore from screaming. Someone was touching me, pinning me to the ground with fierce strength yet murmuring soft things to the side of my face, brushing my damp hair from my forehead. I tried to push away. The fire was all over me, trapping me, couldn't they tell? It was so hot. My throat was burnt. Fire.

"Lily, shh. It was only a dream. You're safe. You're okay."

"No," I moaned, finally freeing my legs. My feet were ripped to pieces but I had to find my mother, had to fix what I did. I didn't want to be fire. Why couldn't he let me go? "I have to find her. She's going to die. Let me go! Let me GO!"

"Damn it, Lily."

He pushed me back so hard the back of my head hit the floor. For a moment, the pain granted me a sliver of clarity. I opened my eyes. Despite my thrashing about, James stayed, still whispering those words, too soft to be the James from my dream. He held me down, kissed me on the forehead as I stopped thrashing about. His eyes were different. They weren't black. They were wide and honey and I knew those eyes, the intensity, the inherent trust, the worry. I stared at them and saw myself—wild, hands pulling at my hair, face wet with sweat and tears. My chest rose and fell as his did. As I breathed, he breathed.

"I'm not on fire," I said. A shuddering gasp of air escaped my lungs and it was not smoke. "It was a dream."

"It was a dream." James loosened his grip on my wrists, positioned his legs so that they were no longer bracing mine to the floor, but he stayed where he was for the moment, kneeling beside me. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. I hadn't had a nightmare like that in a long time. Mum used to sit by me when I had nightmares, and then Dorcas when I was at school, and they always told me afterwards how much I flailed around and tried to punch them. "Did I hit you?" I asked.

"Only about twelve times," he said, smoothing his thumb under my eye. There was gentle teasing in his voice. "After the first three I realized that you were actually trying to break my nose."

I groaned. "Sorry."

"Then you started saying my name, so I figured it was a good dream. You know, bruise me up a bit, break my glasses. I thought you'd start laughing."

Though he sounded alright, the wrinkle on his forehead betrayed his worry. His silence said that, no, I hadn't started laughing. It hadn't been a good dream at all. He left me, then, to answer the unasked question—what happened?—but it was still too close to talk about, the pain, my mother, his betrayal. Instead, I sat up and rested my face against his chest. He didn't press me for anything, but it was James, and I knew he wondered. The beat of his heart was always so much more telling than his deceptive words or face.

"I'm sorry for hitting you," I said, turning my face up so that my ear rested against his chest, my forehead just under his chin. He wound his arms around me. Briefly, as he knelt there and rubbed my back, played with the ends of my hair, I felt a little bubble of warmth in my throat. Last night he'd told me he loved me. Loved me.

I kissed his neck. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Always saving those I can't. "Being here."

He squeezed my knee, a soft smile on his face. "Told you I would be."

- QS -

Breakfast was quiet. It was odd to see a group normally so spirited and loud sit so solemnly. Remus and Dorcas sat quietly at one end of the table, picking at their plates. Beside me, James twirled his fork through some syrup. Sirius paced before the mantle, chewing on a piece of bacon and wiping his greasy fingers on his trousers. I watched as the dark spot got larger as time went on, as his plate of bacon dwindled and his pace got quicker and then slower.

I ate a bit of eggs simply to have something in my stomach. After getting showered and dressed, we had all converged in the dining room for breakfast, but nobody was really up for talking, which left me to think about that dream. It obviously came from yesterday's attack and my anxiety about my mother. The contrast was clear: I wanted to protect her, but ultimately I was the fire that would destroy her. I was a witch, and the magic that was inside of me was also the magic inside of Voldemort. Though his was dark and mine wasn't, mine could turn, too, couldn't it? Just like Siobhan's loyalty. Voldemort was known to manipulate, to use force when courage stood against his bidding. Who could say that I wouldn't be so easily swayed, too?

If my mother was threatened, if I had to choose between her life and service to the Dark Lord, would I join him? Or would I let her die?

A loud slam made me jump. Remus threw his book on the table and stood, his chair sliding back and tipping precariously before righting itself. He glared at Sirius. "For God's sake, Padfoot, would you stop pacing? Just… stop. Just sit down and eat and be still. You are driving me to madness."

"Ah, stuff it," Sirius said, but his heart wasn't in it. He took another piece of bacon out of his pocket and tossed it at Remus. It fell short, dropping into a goblet of orange juice.

We looked at it.

"Could you stand still, at least?" Remus asked, pulling his chair back to its place and sitting down.

"Impossible," James said.

Sirius stopped pacing to consider, then shrugged his shoulders and turned his head back to the rug and his lines. Remus rolled his eyes; Dorcas put her hand on his arm and whispered something to him, which made him relax a bit more.

"Everybody's stressed out," James grumbled, dropping his fork into his syrup patterns. He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head toward me, but his eyes were following Sirius's strides, up the room and then back. I couldn't imagine what it was like in his head, having so many people to worry about. I only had my mother, Petunia, Dorcas, and him, but he had a whole extended family, a group of best friends, a new girlfriend that he had just started dating after years, a manor.

So much to lose.

"It's a big decision," I whispered back. "Just because you made yours already doesn't mean it's not difficult for the rest of us."

But it wasn't difficult, was it? I wanted to protect my family and friends. Voldemort wanted to take them away. The only logical course of action would be to take Dumbledore's offer, but if I joined the Order of the Phoenix, if I told him yes, what would that make me? I'd still be a student at Hogwarts, but I would also be—what? A soldier? He told us last night that we wouldn't have to skip classes or sacrifice our studies a significant amount to participate, and that we were, essentially, last reserves in case the school was infiltrated or he needed us, which was all and good, but still. I'd be a student and an undercover soldier in a secret army—how difficult would it be to find a balance between the two? Could I manage?

And then there was this other thing, putting my life in the hands of these other people, taking care of theirs in turn. If last night was any indication, we would be constantly left to protect one another These friends, old and new, would become my partners. Dorcas, my first friend, my lifeline; kind, brilliant Remus; Sirius, whose trust I've only started to earn; and James. James, and that impatience scrawled all over his tired face.

"What?" I ask him.

"How is it difficult?"

"Well, James, there's a lot to think about! You realize this is a dangerous situation, right? You were there last night, weren't you? Because I remember seeing you there—"

His lips twisted. "Don't."

"And I'm pretty sure I was cornered by a Death Eater at one point, and did you miss the part where my entire street was destroyed?"

Wordlessly he turned away. It was clear how annoyed he was, how frustrated and anxious, in the way he clenched his jaw and returned to watch Sirius pace, but I knew he wasn't dumb. He realized the danger; he was just being stubborn.

I tried to tap down my own exasperation. We were all too keyed up and it wouldn't do anybody any good to start arguing, especially James and I, not when things had been going well, not when last night had been a close call.

"I think I need to go home to think about everything," I announced to the room, pushing back my chair and tossing my napkin on the table.

"Lily—" James started, taking my wrist.

I pulled it gently away from him. "Please, James."

He nodded, let go. "Okay."

Dorcas stood and gave me a tight hug, told me that she'd be there in an instant whenever I needed her, and that we would figure out everything soon. Remus offered a light hug, as well, and while his was calm, Sirius nearly crushed me against his chest. I tried to keep his lower-half away from me so that the bacon grease on his trousers wouldn't transfer onto mine, but he pulled me ever closer.

"Uh," I said, gripping the back of his shirt. "Sirius?"

I didn't expect his response. "You realize you know mostly all of our biggest secrets?"

And I guess that was true. Remus was a werewolf, the rest of them were Animagi—what was bigger than that? I tried to think of something that could be within the realm of possibility and also even slightly realistic, but came up with nothing. Somehow, I was privy to their secrets. Somehow, they had wormed themselves into my life.

"That kind of makes you an honorary Marauder," he told me next, picking me up off my feet and squeezing me to him. Warmth crept through my heart, though that might've been less from his words and more because I couldn't much breathe from his grip around my waist. He set me on the floor and kissed my forehead. "So you'd better be safe, because you're one of us now."

"Okay," I said. I couldn't help but grin at him. "Same goes for you."

By the door, James waved me over. "Come on, then, little Marauder. I'll get you back home."

- QS –

Mum was waiting for me when I stepped through the front door. She fussed with me for a long while, smoothing out my clothes, brushing my hair back from my face. "You look like you haven't slept," she told me, putting her hands on my face and pulling the skin tight around my eyes. "You oughtn't look like such an old woman quite yet."

While she set about getting me some lunch—even though I had just eaten breakfast, I couldn't help but allow her this—I stared at the reconstructed window in the front of my house, and place on the front porch where the balustrade had been broken, the perfectly sculpted flower bushes. Everything was just like it had been. And it was all a lie. I think even Mum could tell, though her memories had been altered. Dumbledore told me that she'd remember nothing about the night before, but in her heart I knew there were vestiges of unease, of fear. She could tell something was off, even if she couldn't pinpoint what, exactly, it was.

She took it out on worrying about me. "Are you sure you're alright? I just haven't seen you like this before."

"I'm sure, Mum," I said, my smile more for her benefit than mine. It was hard to lie to her, but now it was necessary. "I am pretty tired. We, um, danced a lot at the gala, and it ran late so I didn't get much sleep."

"Well, you'll just eat this and then I'll send you back up to bed, alright?" She sat a sandwich and a glass of water in front of me. "I'll even tuck you in like old times."

I groaned, which made her laugh, and that by itself was worth it if I had to let her tuck me in like I was five again. We chatted a bit more about the gala, the music and the people and James's parents. When she asked, a knowing twinkle in her eye, if James kissed me, I allowed my blush to speak for me. After my stomach was full and my plate was clean, she hurried me up the stairs. I got into my pajamas.

"You really don't have to tuck me in," I told her, slipping between the sheets.

She sat down beside me. "Humor me."

"If that's what you want." As she pulled my sheets up to my shoulders, I asked her, "What do you do if you have-if you're stuck in a decision? How do you know what the right thing to do is?"

It was killing me to be vague. Mum tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. Whether or not she understood what was going on, she still answered, "There might not be a 'right thing,' Lil, but as long as you feel right about it, as long as you do what you think you have to, then that's the right thing. Is there... is there something specific bothering you?"

Oh, Mum, I'm sorry, I thought, watching as she gazed at me like she couldn't figure me out, like she wished she could crack open my diversions and get at my real problems, like she wanted me to be little again so I would tell her everything. I didn't answer. She leaned down and rested her head against mine for just a minute, just long enough for me to inhale the scent of her hair and wish she'd stay there with me all night.

"Just remember that what you need is always at home, okay?" she said to me, cupping my face in her hand. "Remember that."

"I will, Mum."

She drew the curtains closed and blew me a kiss before she left, and the image of her standing in the doorway, the light from the hallway shining behind her, was imprinted on my eyes as I closed them to fall asleep.