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“It was lots of little things. It was the set of his jaw when he read the Daily Prophet in the mornings. It made her want to reach out and touch his face, so rarely that serious. Even if she hadn’t always wanted to admit it, he had always been funny. But he was gentler now, his goal clearly to make as many people laugh as possible, not just himself and Black. At Slughorn’s Christmas Party, Lily had somehow ended up holding an enormous slice of Christmas cake in a napkin. She had mindlessly offered some to James. He had looked at it, looked at her, and said, “I’m already eating out of the palm of your hand, Evans, no need to make it literal.” Marlene had choked on her Butterbeer. Mary had burst out laughing. Lily had actually blushed, which made Mary and Marlene laugh harder.”

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"Pierre's insanity consisted in the fact that he did not wait, as before, for personal reasons which he called people's merits in order to love them, but love overflowed his heart and loving people without reason, he discovered the unquestionable reasons for which it was worth loving them."

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"Though the things of the world were strong with me still. Such as, for example, a gaggle of children trudging through a side-blown December flurry; a friendly match-share beneath some collision-tilted streetlight; a frozen clock bird-visited within its high tower; cold water from a tin jug; towelling off one's clinging shirt post June rain... These and all things started as nothing, latent within a vast energy broth, but then we named them and loved them, and in this way brought them forth." - George Saunders, Lincoln in the Bardo

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James Potter gets the shock of his life

The hard thing was going to be picking the right memory. Was it normal for your strongest memories to all be bittersweet, or was that just her? Finding out she was a witch? Irrevocably connected to losing Petunia. Her friendship with Severus? Feeling really seen for the first time? Grinning at each other, elated when they were the first two in the class to pull off the Draught of Living Death because of the extra reading they’d done together, huddled in the library?

But then, that same afternoon, when she walked up to join the queue outside Transfiguration, his Slytherin friends had held their noses, mimed vomiting, exaggerated looks of disgust on their face. She tried to just ignore it. James Potter and Sirius Black had retaliated unthinkingly, an en masse Petrificus Totalus so the group of Slytherins were on the ground before Lily could do so much as blink. She’d not thanked them. Not looked at them, at any of them. She’d just set her shoulders, turned on her heel and walked in the other direction. There were other Muggleborns in the class and the Slytherins didn’t react nearly as strongly. She didn’t know what she could have done to earn such stand out hatred, even before You-Know-Who had empowered people to say what they really thought. And Severus had just stood there, saying nothing, refusing to even look at her.

Nothing that involved him, then.

“You got your memory ready?” Mary broke into her reverie. “Yeah, I was just thinking about that,” Lily sighed. “It’s kind of slim pickings. I’ve just not had that much pleasure in my life recently.” “Sorry to hear that, Evans. If only there was something I could do,” came a polite voice from above her. Lily shut her eyes, knowing what she was going to see when she opened them. James Potter had slid onto the bench next to her and was smirking as he spooned potatoes onto his plate. “Don’t be creepy, Potter.” He held a forked potato aloft on the way to his mouth, and looked almost sheepish. “Oh come on, I’m only kidding.” He looked at her so earnestly she couldn’t help softening. “You know what my memory’s gonna be?” he went on, brightly. “What?” Lily indulged him. “Slughorn’s Christmas party last year.” “Oh yeah, that was fun,” Lily smiled back, pleasantly surprised. What was this? A nice friendly reminiscence about a time they’d both enjoyed?” “Specifically,” he went on. Here we go, Lily thought. “That green dress you wore,” James feigned a dreamy expression, staring into the middle distance. “You remember the one. You were pulling at the hem of it all night like you were worried it was too short even though I kept telling you it looked magnificent and-” “Oh my god, I am not listening to this,” Lily threw her spoon down and disembarked the bench as gracefully as she could. “What?” James called after her, loud enough for the whole hall to hear. “I liked it because it matched your eyes!” He was so unabashed, so gloriously unbothered about looking like an idiot that she couldn’t help laughing. Now that he’d stopped bullying Severus, stopped hexing people in the corridors, his advances had transitioned from incredibly aggravating to kind of a running joke for everyone. Lily’s smile slipped when she saw Severus, watching her from the Slytherin table. His black eyes were on her, unfathomable. She lifted her chin and stalked past. Severus Snape didn’t own her, and he’d made his choice.

Having left lunch early, she was the first to arrive to Defence Against the Dark Arts. She sat there, nervous and twitchy as the others trickled in. Mary flopped down next to her. “You can’t leave the table every time James Potter sits next to you,” Mary said. “You’re too thin as it is,” pinching Lily’s waist for emphasis. Lily squirmed. “I don’t leave the table whenever he sits next to me!” “Okay, but you do. And I don’t see why. He really likes you, he makes you laugh-” “He does not make me laugh. He’s laughable. That’s not the same-” Lily cut herself off as the door banged open and a group of Slytherins sloped in. As usual, Severus didn’t look her way as he went to sit on the other side of the classroom. Moments later, the Marauders came in roaring with laughter at a story that Sirius was telling. “… so basically every time Pince says the word quiet, the sonorous charm activates, and-“ “Settle down, settle down,” Professor Vance said as she swept into the classroom behind them. The Marauders laughter died away. Everybody else was already silent. “Okay. There’s only one way to get good at this, and even then, without a real dementor, well. It’s not the same. That’s why you’ve got to be good. Really good. So. One at a time, up the front, so we can all learn. Who wants to go first?” Nobody volunteered. Lily felt Professor Vance’s eyes land on her. This often happened, being Head Girl. But she was fresh out of Gryffindor courage today. “Miss Evans?” Mulciber, one of Severus’s Slytherin friends, gave a small cough designed to poorly disguise the word, “Mudblood!” A few people gasped, and the Slytherins tittered. From the back of the room came a scraping sound and Lily turned to see James Potter pushing his chair back and making to stand up, but being dragged back down by Lupin. “We’ll get them later,” she heard Black hiss. Lily turned back to the front of the class and stood up herself. “I’ll try.” She made her way up to Professor Vance. “You know the theory. Just concentrate on that memory,” Vance said quietly, before moving to the side of the room. Lily nodded and turned to face the class. Her eyes met Mulciber’s close-set, piggish gaze. Mulciber sneered, his eyes narrowed. Lily determinedly kept her face impassive, until finally, he looked away. Lily lifted her chin, then faced the rest of the class. Without intending to, she locked eyes with Potter, just for a second. Free of mirth for once, his face reflected the determination she felt. He gave a small nod, a tiny gesture of encouragement, and she felt bolstered.

Lily closed her eyes, and pictured her parents. Her mother and father. She thought about the first time she had brought them to Diagon Alley. Buying them an ice cream at Florian Fortescue’s, their delight as they watched the conga line of charmed strawberries dance along the counter. Her mother’s awe as she craned her neck to see the highest shelves of Flourish and Blott’s, her father’s face of anticipation as he took a tentative sip of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky. The classroom disappeared. The Slytherins disappeared. They couldn’t tarnish what she had. Lily’s voice was clear and confident, “Expecto Patronum!” She knew it had worked when warmth coursed through her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw silver mist erupting from the tip of her wand, taking shape. It was something with four legs. A horse- but no, its head was still blossoming, it had – antlers? It was a stag. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It stretched its neck back toward her, lowering its antlered head in greeting. Then, it cantered gracefully around the room, before returning to her outstretched wand, and with a blink of its eyes, it was gone. Lily stared at the space where it had disappeared. The classroom was, for a moment, completely quiet. Then the spell broke. The Gryffindors whooped and cheered. Lily looked towards her friends, and started to smile, still in a small amount of shock. But then she saw four faces at the back of the classroom, and they brought her up short. Peter Pettigrew’s mouth had dropped dumbly open. Remus Lupin’s eyebrows had shot north to his hairline. Sirius Black had dissolved into silent laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. James Potter looked completely stricken, his eyes wide with an emotion she couldn’t name.

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"I write down what I feel in order to lower the fever of feeling. What I confess is of no importance because nothing is of any importance. I made landscapes out of what I feel. I make a holiday of sensation." - Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet.

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"Ransack the language as he might, words failed him." Virginia Woolf, Orlando.

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"Force 10 fucking shit storm ahoy." - David Mitchell, Slade House.

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"A day lived, a sea of knowledge earned." - Nam Le, The Boat.

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"Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand." - Aldous Huxley, Brave New World.

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"... and it was not the ear that heard the pulsing rhythm, it was the midriff; the wail and clang of those recurring harmonies haunted not the mind but the yearning bowels of compassion." - Aldous Huxley, Brave New World.

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"Words can be like x-rays, if you use them properly - they'll go through anything. You read and you're pierced." - Aldous Huxley, Brave New World.

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"Since the receipt of the missive in the morning, Boldwood had felt the symmetry of his existence to be slowly getting distorted in the direction of an ideal passion. The disturbance was as the first floating weed to Columbus - the contemptibly small suggesting possibilities of the infinitely great." - Thomas Hardy, Far From the Madding Crowd

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"That later we, though parted then, may still recall those evenings when fear gave his watch no look; The lion griefs loped from the shade and on our knees their muzzles laid and Death put down his book." - W.H. Auden

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"Behind the cotton wool is hidden a pattern... the whole world is a work of art... Hamlet or a Beethoven quartet is the truth about this vast mass we call the world. But there is no Shakespeare, there is no Beethoven, certainly, and emphatically there is no God; we are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself." - Virginia Woolf

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"He had an amazing gift for a sort of naked communication that made poetry look like translation." Elizabeth Bishop about Dylan Thomas.

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"He was more alarming to me in his moments of levity than he was the rest of the time; it was like watching a lizard gambol." - Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

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"There was no point trying to deflect her. She was like a meat cleaver in mid air." - Margaret Atwood, the Blind Assassin.