Rule #13

“Does that make sense, Harry?” Lily nudges his shoulder.

Harry sets down his paintbrush on the picnic table, gently places his half-painted rock beside it, and then shifts his entire body so that he’s facing Lily head-on. 

“Yep! Babies are made with penises in vaginas but sex doesn’t have to be with just penises and vaginas and no matter what you have going on down there you can have sex but only if everyone is happy and wants to have sex and you should wear things like condoms to be safe or to scare away the babies and there are sperms and eggs and people with YOU-TER-USES grow humans in their tummies!”

Lily’s breath catches, a little amazed and a lot amused. “That’s right, Harry.”

On Saturday, during the camp’s ludicrous field trip to a mansion —which Dumbledore pitched, but Lily had to organize and oversee—Draco pulled Lily aside and demanded in no uncertain terms that she give Harry ‘The Talk’. He claimed, in a tone strangely akin to Regulus’s, that it was dangerous and unfair for Harry to not have all the information, and that it would be “certainly indecent” for Draco to tell him such things. 

Lily couldn’t agree more. 

Dumbledore, on the other hand…Well, last week, Mary and Lily pitched their idea about teaching safe sex practices and sexual education to campers. In response, Dumbledore did what he does best: 

Nothing. 

It’s more than likely that Lily’s proposal is sitting in a pile on his desk, untouched and unread, and will remain that way until the third time Lily reminds him. Then, when Dumbledore finally gives it a read, he’ll offer a host of excuses as to why it can’t be implemented. 

I love my job , Lily repeats in her head. I love Hogwarts.  

She’s a rule-maker, a rule-follower, and a rule-enforcer. She’s the glue that holds this camp together. She’s indispensable and irreplaceable and fucking fantastic, or at least that’s what Sirius says. And yet…

She broke a rule today. 

Another one. 

She can’t quite decide which offense is worse—sex with Pandora, or an unauthorized sex talk with a camper. 

But looking into Harry’s bright green eyes, the twist of his smile as he returns to his rock painting of a minion, Lily can’t bring herself to regret talking to him. This is 101 parenting. Without this information, kids could get hurt and embarrassed. 

Or like Lily, caught in a situation they aren’t prepared for. 

The two of them sit in a comfortable silence in the middle of Gryffindor, finishing up the painted rocks that Pandora lent them the supplies for. It was Lily’s clever way of diffusing the tension, preventing the awkwardness, but Harry, evidently, is not the kind of kid to get fazed. 

He’s so precious.

Not that Lily has favorites, of course not, but this kid? Well, all the Marauders agree that he’s something special. 

Lily glances around and counts the rest of Gryffindor Cabin 3, spotting Hermione and Ron playing cards under the oak tree, and Luna and Neville inside the cabin, the former napping, the latter meditating. It’s the tail end of Sirius’s 24 hours off, and while Lily’s loved every second of covering for Padfoot, she really doesn’t have the time to play counselor. Honestly, she doesn’t have time for anything. 

“Soooooo.” Harry dabs two black dots on his minion. “Does that mean my parents had sex to make me?”

“If they are your birth parents, yes,” Lily says. “But there are some kids who have parents that adopted them, and that’s okay too. Like Sirius and Regulus, their uncle adopted them.”

Harry nods enthusiastically. While he’s wary of many of the adults, especially men, Sirius and Regulus have entirely secured his trust. The Black siblings may be a menace to most, but kids adore them. Lily would be jealous if she wasn’t just as popular with the campers. 

“How do I know if I was adopted?” Harry asks. 

Lily chuckles. “Your parents would have told you.”

“Okay. If you say so.”

Lily pretends not to freeze at that, pretends that her paintbrush didn’t slip just a little, giving her dragonfly a bent wing. She knows that Harry’s home life is unstable, he’s said as much himself. She sees herself in his soft frown, the fidget of his hands when someone asks about his family, in those wide green eyes. 

Seriously, it’s almost as if his is the same exact shade as hers. 

But there’s only so much she can do as the Counselor Manager, and the pseudo-Camp Director. She hates that gnawing feeling in her heart, that when the end of summer comes, Harry will return to a home that…

No . Lily straightens. She won’t let that happen. She will talk to Harry’s parents, and if things are bad, she’ll contact CPS like Mary said. 

She’ll keep Harry safe. 

It’s another bullet point in her long list of to-dos, a mental image organized by priority that flashes in her head every ten seconds. But before she can get caught up in her neurosis, Luna skips out of the cabin, the streaks of blue and pink in her blonde hair sparkling.

“Luna, look at my minion!” Harry immediately gets up to show his friend his rock. 

Luna takes it gently, cupping it between her palms with reverence. “You’re a wizard, Harry.”

At the sound of Luna’s voice, Ard and Tierra come darting out of the dining area and down the slope to Gryffindor. Zemlya stands and sniffs the air by the ping-pong tables, then slowly walks down as well. 

Lily rolls her eyes when all three pit bulls settle themselves on the woodchips around Luna’s feet. They’ve grown obsessed with the mini-Pandora, to the point where they take turns sleeping in Sirius’s cabin, though one of them always stays with Peter. 

The rest of the cabin comes to inspect Harry’s rock, and then, unsurprisingly, they all want to make one. Lily passes out the supplies and soon enough they’re all making rock portraits of their favorite counselors. 

Lily doesn’t bother to hide her smirk when she catches Neville mixing reds to paint her hair. 

The hum of Lily Allen’s “Fuck You” under someone’s breath, without the lyrics thank god, snaps Lily back to the present. Sirius stands at the head of the table, smiling at the six of them and their focused silence. 

“Helloooooo?”

The campers and the pit bulls shoot up and assault Sirius with a group hug. It’s so sweet that Lily takes out her disposable camera and snaps a shot. 

“I know, I know.” Sirius whips off his cat-eye sunglasses with a smirk. “You all missed me desperately.”

“I missed you a lot,” Harry says solemnly, his voice muffled by Neville’s arm. 

Hermione, tucked between Luna and Ron, pushes her face up to smile at Sirius. “I have so much to tell you! I made a Celtic wand in wood burning. I think I’ve nailed “California Dreamin’” on the flute. And Regulus taught me how to do the mermaid on the Lyra!”

“That’s a hard move.” Sirius mock-gasps. “I bet your hips are sore.”

Hermione shrugs or rather shrugs as much as she can underneath all her cabinmates. “Worth it.”

As Ron shows off his rock portrait of Sirius, a purple blob with orange hair, Lily cleans up the paint and brushes, wincing at the puddle of white and brown acrylic Harry accidentally made. 

“Cabin 3, unfortunately, I’ve got to go.” She wipes her hands on her overalls, red and yellow paint staining the blue. “But it was a pleasure to play counselor with you.”

The five of them switch their attention to Lily, slamming into her stomach with an oomph . 

“Bye, Lily!” Luna speaks into her back. 

Sirius laughs, watching his cabin fondly, then blows Lily a kiss. 

She rolls her eyes as if a bear hug from campers isn’t one of her favorite things in the world. After five more seconds, no more, no less, Lily sighs: “Time for me to get back to work, and for you all to go to your next activity.”

That gets the cabin distracted, and they peel off Lily quickly, chatting about what they’ve signed up for. Sirius comes in then for a hug of their own, and Lily may squeeze a little tighter, hold a little longer than she should. 

“How was your day off?” she asks. 

Sirius pulls back a little, their gray-blue eyes more awake than ever. “I didn’t leave the hotel room once, just sat in the bath and binged New Girl.”

“Sounds perfect.” Lily doesn’t bother to hide her envy.

“When’s it your turn to get out of here?”

Lily smiles. She doesn’t have any day off planned for herself, but she certainly can’t tell one of her best friends that she is willingly breaking labor laws. “I really have to go, I’ve got a meeting, but I’ll see you at dinner, yeah?”

Then she’s off, hiking the slope up to the offices before Sirius can respond. 

******

It’s only the third week of camp, fourth if you count counselor training, so Lily really shouldn’t be this tired. She’s done this for how many summers now? Counting is much too hard at the moment, but the number’s certainly up there. 

Only this year she’s got an even more inattentive Dumbledore and an even more sloppy Mary. The workload seems greater than ever. Unmanageable even. 

Of course, Lily can manage it. She can manage anything. She’s the Counselor Manager for fuck’s sake, it's in the title itself. 

She runs through her notes, a scramble of cursive and doodles in her pocketbook. She has to sit down with the Weasley twins about their latest prank, brainstorm solutions for the clique issues between the houses, send out the first batch of parent letters, and then compile the suggestions from all the counselor check-ins. 

All that before the end of the day, ideally. 

No, not ideally . She can do it. She can manage!

Except without the buzz of the campers’ energy, Harry’s especially, Lily can’t help but slump in her overheated office, slowly melting into a puddle of sweat and yawns.

Her eyes droop from a heaviness made of not just exhaustion, but letdown. She’s been so busy she’s barely seen her best friends, not to mention her bed. And the last time she had a chance to see Pandora, in private, was nearly ten days ago. 

It’s like she’s somehow missing everything and failing everyone. 

James would tell her to shut up and stop talking stupid, that she is expecting the impossible of herself. His voice even pops in her head now, tsking in that goofy way he does when she pulls all-nighters just for spreadsheets. 

They know each other’s bad habits. The coping mechanisms. The fatal flaws.

While Lily distracts herself with obsessive work, James devotes himself to his loved ones. Workaholic or people pleaser, they’re both trying to forget the past and learn to like themselves. To live despite what they lost.

“UGH.” Lily knocks her head against the back of her desk chair. 

There’s a knock at the door. 

Right. 

Meeting. 

Lily wipes her eyes and smooths her messy braid. “Come in!” 

Marlene’s hair, on the other hand, is altogether brushed and clean , the bob hitting the middle of her neck in a slight curve. Even the brown roots at the part of her hair blend into blonde naturally. 

“Sit down, please.” Lily smiles.

Marlene does, crossing her legs and glancing around the office. She’s got one of those old Hollywood faces, beautiful and so cinematic it feels too good to be true. 

“How are you, Marlene?”

“I’m great.”

A typically empty answer, albeit fair given that Lily is Marlene’s supervisor. But Lily isn’t asking just to be polite, she knows that this job isn’t easy. She wants to help Marlene handle all the responsibilities and hardships that come with a summer camp full of adolescents. 

The question is: how?

Lily expected all of the newbie counselors to struggle, but besides Dorcas’s invasive mother, and Regulus’s not-so-subtle crush on James, they’ve all been spectacular, handling the sleep deprivation, the campers’ constant attention, and even the heatwaves with shocking ease. 

Marlene most of all. 

She didn’t bat an eye when one of her campers chipped a tooth due to a nasty fall, she followed protocol to a T when Dorcas saved Draco from drowning, and she gave the performance of a lifetime at the Viking Camp Game.

It’s unprecedented. And Lily knows it won’t last the entire summer. 

Lily also knows, however, that Marlene probably sees her as nothing more than a boss . 

So Lily takes her time coaxing a real answer out of her. They talk about Marlene’s cabin of ten-year-olds, dwelling on Ginny's spunk and Riley’s fear of the Black Lake. They talk about her lifeguard duties and all the various water activities she oversees with Dorcas. They talk about her adjustment to the camp lifestyle, her friendships with other staff members, her roses and thorns of the entire experience. 

Marlene is just as eloquent and poised as she was in her interview. The picture of perfection. 

Seven other counselors Lily has met with in the last few days, and Marlene is the only one to have no complaints, no issues, no anxieties. 

“Look, Marlene. No one expects any counselor, much less a new hire, to handle all of this without some hiccups. We’re here to support each other. You haven’t once asked me, or to my knowledge Mary, for help. I hope you know that you can—”

“Is this you trying to ask about me and Mary?” Marlene interrupts. 

There’s a hint of a smile on Marlene’s face and Lily sits back, the plastic of her chair creaking. “ What? ”

“Rule #13. Me and Mary?”

Something cold and slimy crawls up Lily’s gut. She thinks of the position she found the two of them in last week—Mary straddling Marlene’s lap, makeup brush in hand, wearing a relaxed smile that Lily has never seen, never earned. 

Lily pulled Mary aside that very night and reminded her, or rather lectured her on what would have happened if Dumbledore opened that door. Mary knows how strict he is about that rule, she’s attended all the same meetings Lily has, and yet she tempts fate so casually.

At least Lily knows how to be discreet. 

Mary just has to be so goddamn loud in everything she does. Everyone she wants. Everything she gets. 

Including beautiful, flawless Marlene. 

Lily swallows her nausea. “So you and Mary are…”

“No!” Marlene laughs. “I’m trying to tell you that nothing’s going on between us.”

Lily takes longer than necessary, quite longer than necessary, to respond. It’s just for a moment there, it was as if she felt—it was as if she wanted—

She rubs her face, clearly much too tired for thoughts like those. 

“Speaking of Mary…It’s okay to break the rules every now and then, you know?”

Lily drops her hands to find Marlene watching her carefully. What the hell did she mean by that?

Marlene continues, “We all know that you have the kids’ best interest at heart, and it’s okay to do things for yourself too…to enjoy yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

Marlene’s lips twitch to the right. “Nothing.”

Lily flinches at the tease in Marlene’s smile, the knowing in her blue eyes. She’s effortlessly gorgeous, managing her first summer as a counselor without even one mistake, someone Mary clearly likes if not wants , and—

“Dumbledore’s rules may be strict, but they are there to keep the campers safe. I truly hope you’re not implying that me or you or anyone for that matter should be breaking them, and thus jeopardizing the camp as a whole.” Lily doesn’t even recognize her own voice. It’s stern and heavy with authority, the sort of tone Dumbledore takes in his disciplinary meetings. 

“Of course not, Lily,” Marlene answers smoothly. “I apologize, it was a bad joke.”

It’s cruel that even after Lily’s been a Grade-A bitch, she still feels violently inadequate in front of Marlene. It’s not a competition, and if it were, Marlene would win. What matters is that Lily wanted to be helpful, friendly at this meeting. She wanted to be herself.

Whatever, whoever she is right now, she’s ashamed of it. 

But before she can apologize, Marlene is nodding at the clock with a smile that can’t be real but has every appearance of sincerity. “I should go help Dorcas with the kayaks.”

It’s on the tip of Lily’s tongue—ask Marlene about Dorcas, warn about Rule #13, warn about Dumbledore’s witch hunt for couples. 

But she’s said enough. She’s done enough. 

“Thanks, Marlene.” Lily winces at how lame she sounds. 

When the door shuts, Lily pulls her feet onto the chair, resting her chin on her knees. She decides to give herself thirty more seconds of self-loathing, then she’ll write up the notes of the check-in, leaving out all discussion of Mary and rule-breaking, and send it to Dumbledore. 

But first: 

She glares at her kneecaps covered in paint-splattered denim. “You’re the fucking worst, Lily Evans.”

“I couldn’t disagree more.”

Lily shrieks, nearly falling out of her chair. Peter is standing in the doorway of her office, arms crossed and head cocked the way he does when debating his next chess move. 

“Jesus you scared me, Wormtail!”

Peter hums. He’s dressed in overalls too, only his are Dickies covered in dirt and oil stains, a belt full of tools around his waist. Where Lily looks frazzled, he looks cool. 

“Do me a favor?” he asks. 

“Anything.”

“Check your blood sugar.”

Lily sighs and reaches for her phone, pulling up the Dexcom G6 app. Her office is one of the only places there’s service, and her iPhone one of the only phones on the campgrounds. 

65 mg/dL, the app reads. 

“Shit.”

“Here, have a cookie. Molly just made a batch.” Peter slides the sugar cinnamon cookie, wrapped in a napkin, onto Lily’s desk. 

“Thanks,” Lily says through bites. “I’ve been distracted.”

Peter steps back to lean on the wall, gaze still evaluating. “You’ve not been sleeping well.”

“I’ve been sleeping great, actually. Just don’t have enough time to.” Lily’s typing up her notes, swallowing the last of her cookie. 

“You’re clearly not eating enough, and your caffeine intake?” Peter’s tone is soft, unaccusing, but his words aren’t. 

“I don’t need you taking care of me, Pete.”

Peter’s silence speaks for itself. Lily’s fingers still on the keyboard and she rolls back, turning to meet his stare. “What?”

“We’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Well, you know how much I love surprises.” Lily rolls her eyes. “But obviously, I’m working.”

Peter snorts and pushes off the wall. His hand presses into Lily’s shoulder. “Come on, Firefly. Mary said she’d cover for you.”

The mention of Mary makes Lily stiffen, and Peter notices, but kindly, wisely, doesn’t comment on it.

“I really don’t like surprises, you know this, Wormtail.”

He smiles. “You’ll like this one.”

******

Peter, as always, is right. 

The Marauders set up an outdoor spa day for Lily by the hot rocks, two picnic baskets full of her favorite cheese (brie) and crackers (sourdough toasties), Martinellis, and chocolates, paired with a clay face mask. 

Peter spends the first hour lying next to Lily, assuring her that the camp will be fine without her for a couple of hours, and practically begging her to nap. 

James finds them both asleep, cuddled half in the sun, half in the shade, the wet red rock beneath them warm to the touch. 

“MY TURN WITH FIREFLY!” James screeches. 

Lily jolts and groans. “What?”

“Alright, fine.” Peter makes his way to his feet, popping his knees and, inexplicably, elbows in the process. 

When James takes his spot beside Lily, she asks: “What the hell is going on?”

“We each get to take a turn hanging out with you. Mary helped us organize it so our breaks line up in order, one after the other.”

Lily blinks, too sleepy, too surprised to say anything. 

“I know what you’re thinking: how kind of Mary!” James begins. “It is rather nice of her, and I wonder if she’s actually—”

“No more talk of Mary,” Lily nearly hisses. 

She collapses into James in what is almost a hug but is more of a body slam. “I missed you,” she mumbles morosely.

“You work too hard, Firefly.”

They spend the next hour munching on snacks and catching up. James bans all talk of camp and campers, though he does acquiesce at the mention of Harry. And while Lily resists bugging him about Regulus—she believes when James says he doesn’t have any romantic feelings—she does tease him about the gaggle of campers who are his new admirers.

“Hey, I said no camp-talk!” James shoves her lightly. 

Lily rubs the last of the clay mask off her face with a smug smile. 

“Why don’t we talk about what’s got you squinting like that?”

She flicks the water off her hands. “I do not squint.”

“Yes, you do.”

Instinctively, Lily narrows her eyes at James. “Oh,” she says after a second. “I see your point.”

James’s laugh bounces off the water’s surface, burrowing under Lily’s skin. She’s smiling before she knows it—a real one this time. There’s no point in giving James a fake one, he’d notice.

“So?” James’s foot taps Lily’s leg. 

“It’s camp-talk.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Fine.” Lily sighs. “I bombed Marlene’s check-in and played the I’m Your Boss card, and now she hates me.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. Marlene doesn’t seem like a hateful person. And you’re impossible to hate.”

Lily expected nothing less from James, but it’s still nice to hear. “Yeah, yeah.”

She looks at her hands, fiddling with her friendship bracelets. “She implied that I should…break Rule #13 and, well, I don’t know date? Sleep with? Mary. ”

James is silent for a beat too long, and when Lily looks up, she finds his lips folded, holding back a laugh. 

“What?” 

“It’s just…” he snorts. “You’re already sleeping with Pandora.”

Lily’s face falls into a scowl. That is exactly why she didn’t tell her friends. She doesn’t need any reminders of her hypocrisy and misdeeds, but now she’s got Sirius’s suggestive winks and Peter’s all-too-knowing glances, and James—well, James usually doesn’t give her shit for it. 

“I thought you said Pandora was good for me?” Lily’s voice tries to be sharp, but it comes out fragile.

“I did! And I stand by it!” James quickly sits up. “But, I mean…you’re in an open relationship, so what’s the harm in seeing if Mary might be good for you too?”

“Where are you and Marlene even getting this idea from? There’s nothing between me and Mary. She makes my job, my life ten times more difficult—I hate her.”

It’s the honest truth, one that Lily knows is reciprocated. So why do the words make her insides squirm? Not for the first time today, she pushes down her nausea, choosing to blame her blood sugar. 

James’s gaze is steady. “You’re not a hateful person either, Firefly.”

“Well, everyone has an exception.”

“Sure.” James smiles. “Sure, Lils.”

“Peter said this was supposed to be a relaxing break? Right now I’m not relaxed.” 

James, thankfully, moves on, and they return to the easier, the lighter, the familiar topics. Anything but Mary fucking Macdonald. 

Sirius comes when James and Lily are knee-deep in the stream of water, trying and failing to do duo water-yoga poses. 

“Prongs, get out of here!” Sirius jumps into the water, splashing Lily. “Firefly’s all mine now.”

It’s nice to end with Sirius, Lily can’t help but admit in her mind. Unlike James and Peter, they won’t coddle or tell her to stop working so much. He’ll just talk shit and call her out on her own shit, then move on. 

Sirius does just that, and then they’re painting each other's nails, laughing about Gilderoy, mooning over Moony. Or rather, Sirius is mooning, and Lily is nodding in solidarity. 

“He obviously wants to fuck me.”

“Understandable,” Lily says. 

“Right. Exactly. So obviously I want more from him. I want Remus to love me.”

Lily finishes the braid in Sirius’s hair, tapping her shoulder so they can sit up. “Why don’t you just ask him out once the summer ends?” 

Sirius blinks at her. “He lives in Colorado. His whole life is there.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that far from LA.” Lily takes Sirius’s hands. “Call me a romantic, but I think you two are perfect for each other. You just gotta give him the time to fall in love with you too. Remember, you’ve had a lifetime to know and love him and he’s only had—”

There’s a snap of a twig and both Lily and Sirius whip their heads to the trail. 

Remus . 

He’s standing between two thin trunks, hands shoved into his pockets. 

For a split-second, it makes sense to Lily. Of course Moony came, of course, he was the last Marauder to come spend time with her. 

But he isn’t Moony. He’s Remus. 

“Sorry.” He raises a hand. “I like to walk the trails on my break. I didn’t expect anyone to be here…”

Lily recovers, because she knows Sirius won’t. “At least I’m not in my underwear this time,” she teases. 

She can feel Sirius’s questioning stare, but she keeps her attention on Remus. 

Did he hear his name? Does he know that he was who they were talking about? Lily searches his expression, but besides a heavy dose of uncomfortable awkwardness, Remus seems completely normal.  

A part of Lily’s almost disappointed. It would be so much easier, and so much harder, if Remus knew the truth. 

“Uh, yes. Seems like I’ve got a knack for barging in on your private moments,” he mumbles. 

“It’s no problem!” Lily tones down the squeal of her voice and finds a much more calm, much more welcoming tone. “Why don’t you join us?’

Remus’s eyes find Sirius’s and then he’s shaking his head. “No, no. I’ll let you two have some time together. Sirius has missed you, Lily.”

“Right,” Lily says weakly. Her smile is weak too. 

Because as much as Sirius has missed Lily with her busy schedule, he’s missed Remus a moonfull more. All the Marauders have. 

And it’s like a blow to the chest to see Remus walk away. 

“ Fuck ,” Sirius whispers like a whimper.

“I know.” Lily pulls her in for a hug. “I know.”

They press their foreheads together, tears clouding Sirius’s eyes. 

He scoffs. “This afternoon is supposed to be about you .”

“It is. Your problems are mine, Padfoot.” Lily breathes in. “Besides, I miss him too.”

“He likes you, you know.”

Lily pulls back. “Really?”

“Yeah. Told me the other day that you’re the most tolerable of us all.”

Lily really shouldn’t grin at that, but she can’t help it. Remus thinks she’s tolerable! For Moony, that’s a glowing recommendation.

Sirius sniffs and helps Lily to her feet. “There’s one more thing we have for you.”

“Oh come on, you three have spoiled me sufficiently, I really need to get back to—”

Sirius, naturally, doesn’t listen. They gather up the baskets, then shoves Lily in the direction of the treehouse. “Go on, you know the way.”

Lily gives Sirius a long look, that for anyone else would be deadly . 

“SHOO.” 

Sirius waves Lily off like a mosquito. 

“Fine.” 

Lily stomps down the path, the oak and sycamores guiding her farther into the Wayward Woods until, after three forks and one serious incline, she reaches the tree house. 

Long blonde hair pokes out from the entrance shrouded by leaves.

“Hi, Lily.”

If it were anyone else, Lily would be embarrassed by the gasp that rips out of her lungs, the wide smile that stretches so far it hurts. 

“Pandora.”

******

Despite Sirius’s wild expectations, Lily and Pandora were all together PG on their date. Or perhaps PG-13. Time was against them, and as much as Lily missed Pandora’s touch, she missed her most of all. 

They compromised on kisses in between sentences, hands roaming under clothes, across skin, as they caught up on the little things, like Luna’s first cartwheel or the pregnant horse in the camp stables that Lily is caring for. By the time their hour was up, Lily felt like a new woman, still tired, still stressed, but in that precious moment, content. 

God, her friends are incredible. She nearly tears up just thinking about the Marauders and Pandora, and even Mary, all working together to set this up for her. 

Lily helps Pandora down from the old wooden ladder, arms tightening around her waist. They stand together on the ground, Pandora counting Lily’s freckles with her finger, both procrastinating their return to reality. 

“I know we’ve talked about this before,” Pandora starts. “But I just want to check in. You’re alright with me seeing other people?”

Lily frowns. She’s always known that Pandora was poly, and while she hasn’t had the time to explore that herself, she loves the nature of their relationship, the dazzling ease of friendship, sex, and open boundaries. “Of course, Pan.”

“Okay.” Pandora pets Lily’s hair and leans in to kiss her cheek. “We just hadn’t talked about it in a while is all.”

Lily doesn’t think much of the question the rest of the day—she has about a hundred other things on her list to overthink first—but after a delicious dinner, a respectable bedtime, and a sunrise jog, she freezes under the spray of the shower. 

Could Pandora be seeing someone else on the staff? 

It’s not fair, it’s really not fair for Lily to worry about Rule #13 with Pandora. And if it weren’t for Dumbledore, she wouldn’t. 

Her head drops back, the water crashing against her cheek. “Pandora knows what she’s doing, she knows to be discreet,” she tells herself. “She won’t get caught, she won’t get fired.”

Because, well, Pandora has had a lot of practice already. 

Nevertheless, anxiety clings to Lily like the bug spray and sunscreen she lathers over her skin. It doesn’t leave when she has her first cup of coffee, the only one she’ll allow herself today, when she eats a snack and checks her blood sugar, when she shuffles over to Dumbledore’s house for their morning meeting. 

Pandora is such an important part of Hogwarts—she runs the craft activities and teaches the campers the beauty of art, and how to express themselves creatively. If Pandora leaves, Luna will have to as well, and she’s having such a great time in Sirius’s cabin and the pit bulls love her and Lily loves her, and fuck, they can’t leave—

“Lily?” 

She means to respond to Mary, but she can’t find the breath to speak. 

“Hey, hey.” Mary’s hands are on her shoulders. “Take a deep breath with me, yeah?”

They do. And then another. And another. 

The panic gripping Lily’s chest loosens, and her vision starts to clear. Mary’s brown skin is glowing, her curls a little damp, lips sparkling with some sort of chapstick, and eyes pinned to Lily’s. She’s beautiful. 

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but are you okay, Lily?” Mary’s voice is softer than she has ever heard it before. 

The tenderness, the concern written over Mary’s face makes her head spin, and she’s dizzy with all the attention. 

“Lily?” Mary repeats. 

She clears her throat. “Right. Yes. I’m alright.”

Lily looks around and realizes they’re both just outside of Dumbedlore’s office, standing in the hallway of his house where camp photos and outdated wallpaper watch them accusingly. 

“We should go in,” Lily says, hoping her cheeks aren’t betraying her embarrassment. 

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

Lily laughs under her breath. “No. But he’s waiting so…”

Mary opens her mouth to say something, but Lily’s already turning the door handle, desperate to get away from Mary, from whatever spell is stealing Lily’s sanity and making her think—

“Lily!” Dumbledore’s smile is the same as ever, warm but tight, as if unsure where it’s going. 

Lily takes her seat on the left, Mary on the right. Dumbledore keeps on smiling from across the desk, his laptop monitor casting blue light across his glasses. 

“So I’ve got some news to share.” He clasps his hands and sighs. “The donors aren’t budging, and I’ve had no choice but to compromise on their request.”

Lily tenses. 

“In two weeks, all campers’ parents will be invited to visit Hogwarts.”

It’s funny, perhaps, that Lily doesn’t feel an inch of surprise at hearing those words. She’s been fighting this battle with Dumbledore for a while, and she’s not usually a loser, but she knows when she can’t win. 

Mary, on the other hand, blurts: “Why on earth would we do that?!”

Dumbledore’s eyes flick from Lily to Mary. “In order to receive the funding Hogwarts so desperately needs, we have to be open to ideas from our donors. The request was that parents visit every weekend, and I think one weekend in the middle of summer is an admirable compromise.”

The heaviness returns to Lily’s shoulders, all the light and love from yesterday fading to white noise. 

“But what about your whole philosophy? You said that kids need time away from their parents to learn independence, to discover their own identities, to—”

Lily cuts Mary off, “Thank you for negotiating with them. One weekend is certainly better than eight. Was there anything else you needed to discuss today?”

“No, I’ll let you two return to your daily tasks.” Dumbledore addresses Lily only. 

Before Mary can say anything more, Lily takes her arm and practically hauls her out of the office, out of his house. 

Mary’s muscles are stiff under Lily’s fingers, her voice all ice when she snaps, “What the hell, Evans?”

“Not here.”

Lily keeps her grip on Mary, smiling at the campers filing out to the bathrooms to get dressed for breakfast, and marches across the dining area towards the camp entrance. There, underneath the Baby Zip and beside the blackberry bushes, she stops. 

“I know,” Lily blows out a breath. “It’s bullshit.”

“Then why didn’t you let me—”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Lily hides her face in her hands, unsure if she wants to cry or scream. “He won’t listen.”

For most of the campers, reuniting with their parents isn’t a big deal, they’re all quite homesick around this time anyway. But there are some important exceptions. The thought of Harry having to face his parents makes Lily want to puke . 

Not to mention the straight-up ass-kissing she’ll have to do with the parent donors. They’ll scrutinize every inch of the camp, scouring for things to complain about, for staff members to confront. 

“I hate parents,” Mary spits. “Especially wealthy ones.”

Lily laughs at how similar their thoughts are. “I could not agree more.”

Mary lifts her head and meets Lily’s eye. They don’t agree often. Lily really, really hates it when they do. It’s so goddamn confusing being angry, but not at Mary. 

Because who, exactly, is Lily upset with? The parents? Dumbledore?

Dumbledore has to do this for funding, and of course the parents want to see their kids, they love their kids. Lily resists all the rationalizations in her head. She wants to throw a fit. She wants her anger to be justified. 

Mary’s jaw clenches. “You didn’t know that Dumbledore was negotiating with the donors?”

“No, I thought he turned them down a couple of months back.”

“Of course.” Mary yanks a blackberry off the bush and pops it into her mouth. Lily watches her chew and swallow, squinting at the stain of black-blue on her lip, at the tongue that darts out to wipe it away. 

She’s seen Mary pissed many times before, only this time her anger’s not directed at Lily. This time Lily can watch the fire blaze and, for once, not get burnt. 

“Honestly, I don’t even care that the parents are visiting. Whatever . It’s the fact that Dumbledore didn’t talk to either of us about any of it, and then throws it on us less than two weeks   before they arrive. We have to manage accommodations, activities, camper expectations, not to mention prepping the staff on how to deal with parents .”

Lily’s laugh is raw. “Fuck.”

“And you,” Mary’s hand flicks in Lily’s direction. “You’re already doing half his job, and yet, he didn’t tell you .”

Something glum and spent bursts in Lily’s stomach, because yes, yes, that is why she’s upset. All those decisions made, all those meetings behind the curtains, when it’s Lily who has to run the show. 

Why doesn’t Dumbledore let her in? Why doesn’t he trust her? What did she do wrong?

She wants to be his partner, to help him tackle the budget and the donors together. Instead, she’s forced to handle the paperwork and daily operations that Dumbledore neglects, while he calls the shots with the money. 

Lily is nearly as surprised as Mary when she asks the question: “You ever go on the Baby?” 

Slowly, Mary tilts her head up and looks at the zipline cutting across the trees. "I mean I’ve run it but I haven’t done it myself."

“Great. You’re going to now.”

It’s no more than five minutes before the harnesses and ropes are hooked up. Technically, there should be a third person with them for safety reasons, but Lily could easily do this alone, she’s that familiar with the zipline. 

If Mary’s afraid, she doesn’t show it. She follows Lily’s ascent up the tree in silence, and by the time they’re standing on the platform, 50 feet high, she’s almost smiling. 

While it’s not the tallest vantage point at Hogwarts, they can almost see the entirety of the campgrounds. Bundles of green leaves sprout beside cabin roofs and ropes courses, a picture of organized chaos, waiting for the day to begin, for the campers to awake. 

“It’s beautiful,” Mary breathes. 

Lily closes her eyes and inhales. She thinks of her first summer at Hogwarts, that leap of faith she took at nine years old when she stepped off this very platform and flew . 

Hogwarts taught her to fucking fly. To be brave and bold, and above all, to be kind. That is why Lily does this, why she puts up with Dumbledore and all the extra work. 

Maybe this will show Mary why, in the end, it’s all worth it. 

Maybe Mary will forgive Lily for her obsessive organization and relentless micromanaging when she learns to fly too. 

Or maybe this is just a zipline, and Lily’s just an overworked and underpaid sap. 

Regardless, she opens her eyes. “You’re going first, Macdonald.” 

“I was thinking,” Mary says while Lily hooks her in and checks the cables. “The clique problems the counselors have been mentioning?”

Lily’s half-listening, running through all her safety protocols to make sure she isn’t forgetting anything. She may not like Mary, but she’s not about to let her die on the Baby Zip. 

“Why don’t we make a compromise with Dumbledore in exchange for parents' weekend?”

Lily’s fingers still on the strap across Mary’s waist. “What were you thinking?”

“What if we rearranged the cabins? It would help the kids make friends with the other House, and break up the Hogsmeade cliques…”

It’s only because of shock that Lily’s hands are still on Mary’s waist. It’s only because she discovers she actually likes the idea that Lily’s hands press in. 

Mary’s breath hitches at the contact.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Lily whispers. It doesn’t feel right speaking any louder. 

Mary licks her lips, her hips, chest, and face so close to Lily’s on the small platform it’s painful. It’s cruel. It’s just horrible . 

Only Lily doesn’t feel horrible, she feels like tightening her grip and coming even closer and—

“You like my idea? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Lily swallows. “Don’t get used to it.”

“What if I want to?”

Lily blinks furiously but she can’t move back, won’t move back. Her traitorous eyes flick down to Mary’s lips and why, why is she thinking that she wants to—

Blame it on instinct, blame it on Lily, but somehow her hands shove Mary forward, and then Mary’s off, zipping across the line. 

Before Lily can freak out at whatever the hell she just did, Mary hollers, her laughter loud and piercing and absolutely ridiculous. 

For some reason, Lily laughs too.