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Glad You’re Alive


The next day was Sunday and nearly all the Gryffindors slept in because of the party and all the firewhiskey that had been consumed at it. Sirius was still in bed after lunch, when James finally dragged him out of bed, threatening to transfigure his mattress into a soggy sponge if he didn’t move. He noticed when he tugged on Sirius’s arms, trying to yank him out from beneath the covers that Remus wasn’t lying about the scars and it twisted James’s stomach to see them.

It was beautiful outside and the sun was brilliant, so James came up with the idea of going outside to the pitch and playing a bit of one-on-one quaffle passing, which Sirius reluctantly agreed to do, and complained about the entire time they walked through the castle. “You know that Sunday is the day of rest, don’t you Prongs? Centuries of people have fought wars and eaten ration food in order to provide us with this most sacred of days - the day that should be called Hangover Day...”

“Oh stop being lazy!” James said, gripping his broom. “Maybe if you’re nice I’ll even let you use my broom, rather than one of the shoddy school broom.”

Sirius yawned. “Great, let me go faster while I’m hungover and potentially dangerous while airborne… seems smart...”

They’d reached the courtyard at the foot of Ravenclaw tower and stepped through the door into the sun and Sirius groaned and shielded his eyes with his arm. “Are we you even going to be able to see the damned quaffle?” Sirius demanded, squinting across the courtyard. “Can barely see you in this horrible light.”

“What are you, a mole?” James demanded.

Sirius mumbled something about moles having a good life that didn’t involve their best mates hauling them off into the sky with migraines.

They were headed across the courtyard when he realized something. “Sirius. When were those four trees planted?” he pointed about at the trees in the corners of the courtyard - a rowan, a birch, an oak, and a holly. The trees that were planted in memorial of Maryrose. The trees that should never have been planted in this timeline because Maryrose was not in need or a memorial. She was alive and well and -- actually, ironically, she was standing beneath the holly tree, laughing with Marty Brown and a couple other Hufflepuff girls whose names slipped his mind.

Sirius looked around, “Haven’t they always been there?”

“No,” James answered.

“Well - I dunno, maybe Hagrid got bored,” Sirius said with a shrug. “If I kept track of every tree I ever saw… bloody hell.”

James felt really uneasy looking at the trees, like they were ghosts that he had to walk past. Maryrose looked up and saw him and Sirius walking across the courtyard, James with his broomstick over one shoulder, and she said something to dismiss herself from the girls and started over. James felt his stomach flip and he looked about, as though her talking to him would upset the trees. As though the trees knew what he’d done.

“I was wondering where my boyfriend was,” Maryrose said, walking up and falling into step beside James and Sirius. She smiled up at James with bright blue eyes. Her hair was a lovely shade of purple and short, a pixie cut, like Alice Prewitt’s.

“I wish so bloody much I could do that,” Sirius murmured jealously, looking at her hair.

Maryrose laughed, “If I could teach you, I would, but it’s something you’ve got to be born with.”

“I’m too stupid to learn anyway,” Sirius muttered and he nodded to the Bell Tower gate to indicate he’d meet James there and James waved him off. Sirius hurried out the gate and leaned against the stone, sitting on the steps, and drew a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and proceeded to sit, looking over the grounds toward the pitch, smoking.

James turned back to Maryrose as Sirius rushed off.

“How was Hogsmeade?” she asked him.

“S’alright,” James replied, shrugging.

“I heard you got in a row with Severus Snape.”

“Yeah. He deserved it,” James said, thinking of the rumors the greasy-headed git had spread about Remus Lupin.

Maryrose waited a moment, biting her lower lip ever so slightly. “And there was a party last night in Gryffindor?”

“Sirius’s doing. I hung out with Remus Lupin instead.”

“That’s good. I’ll bet he needed the company,” Maryrose said, “He’s a nice boy, whatever everyone says about him. I feel bad.”

James said quickly, “He’s not just nice, he’s one of the best people in the entire world.”

Maryrose nodded. Then, slowly, “You’ve been funny lately.”

“What?” James looked at her.

“I don’t know. There’s something different about you the last couple days.”

James shrugged. “I’m just tired.”

“Okay. Well.” She paused then stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Get some rest at some point, love.”

James nodded.

“Do you want me to come along and cheer you on down by the pitch?” she asked, smiling, “I love watching you play quidditch.”

James looked down, “It’s alright, we probably won’t even end up playing. Pretty sure Sirius is going to do everything in his power to stop it.” He glanced over at the gate and saw Sirius was leaning back, practically laying across the stone steps, his legs crossed, and his Gryffindor tie looped around his eyes to block out the sunlight.

Maryrose laughed, looking to see Sirius, too. “Alright.”

James cleared his throat, “Anyway. I, uh, I better go catch up with him…”

“Okay.” Maryrose smiled, but sadly and stepped away.

“Bye.” James started to hurry away, then he paused. He turned back and looked at her. She was staring after him with sad eyes, the brilliant shade of her hair slowly fading with her disappointment. “Oi. Maryrose?”

She raised her eyebrow in question.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” He knew it would sound odd to someone who didn’t know the whole story, but he really didn’t care. Her standing there in the middle of a courtyard framed by trees that, as far as he knew, had been planted as a memorial to her… he had to say it. He was thankful she was alive, whatever he had mucked up, at least he’d saved her.

Maryrose laughed and her nose turned just a tiny bit pink as she smiled shyly. “Oh James. I’m glad you’re alive, too.”

He smiled and charged off to join Sirius, still wondering about those trees and what business they had still being in the courtyard when their memorial was no longer needed...




“Why does your sweater smell like cologne?” Jasper Odair had plopped himself down next to Lily Evans in the library and before he’d even said hello, he’d asked her that. He made a face. “Ruddy nasty cologne too.”

Lily lifted the hem of her jumper. “I dunno, I think it smells alright. I think one of the house elves might’ve messed my laundry up with somebody else’s or something, this was in my room and all my other jumpers are in the wash and I’m rather chilly so --” Lily shrugged.

“So you’re wearing some random bloke’s jumper, then?” Jasper asked, eyebrow raised. “You ought to wear my jumper if you want to wear a bloke’s jumper. Here I’ll give it to you if you wish.”

Lily hesitated as Jasper unbuttoned the jumper he wore. “Well see, Jasper, no… because… your jumper’s a Hufflepuff jumper isn’t it?”

“So?”

“So… I’m a Gryffindor.”

He looked offended, “Do you have something against Hufflepuffs?” he asked.

“Careful Evans, it sounds like he finds that offensive,” Peter Pettigrew said lowly from across the table.

Lily looked up. “Shut it, you. You are not Sirius Black, thank Merlin, there’s no need to be acting like him.” She stuck out her tongue and Peter flushed and went back to the History of Magic homework he was working on.

Jasper rebuttoned his jumper with a sigh, and sat next to Lily as she tucked the over-long sleeves over her fingers. She liked this jumper. It was her favorite, really. She had no idea where it had come from, she literally could not remember when it had shown up, but she’d been sleeping with it on for the past month and the way it smelled was rather comforting for some reason, in some way that she couldn’t quite put her finger on… like a memory.

Jasper edged closer to her, “Here, at least let me hold you and maybe it’ll start to smell like me instead of whatever random bloke it smells like now.” He put his arm about her and snuggled into her shoulder, grinning up at her as she laughed because his hair was tickling her neck.

“Why are boys soo territorial?” Lily laughed, “Merlin’s beard, you’d think because I’m wearing some random bloke’s jumper that I was betrothed to marry the guy or something the way you’re acting.”

Jasper smirked, “It’s instinct, Lily. All guys are born with it. Mark what’s ours and that lot. Yeah, Peter?”

Peter looked up. “I don’t know. I don’t find myself to be very territorial.” And when Lily gave him a look Peter scrambled, “I didn’t say it on purpose! Sometimes the word just comes up! I swear, I wasn’t being Sirius!”

“Well, whatever,” Lily said, rolling her eyes and turning back to Jasper, “I like this jumper. It’s very soft and comfortable, and I’m going to wear it, so you might as well get used to it. Perhaps you could start wearing this sort of cologne if you’re so jealous.”

“Maybe I will,” Jasper answered, and he turned to his homework without any further discussion on the jumper.

Lily felt a little bad for hurting his feelings, but she really liked the mystery bloke’s jumper!

“You know who does wear that cologne, though?” Peter spoke up.

Lily had opened her Transfiguration book. “Who?” she asked absently.

“James.”

Lily made a face.

“Well he does,” Peter said, shrugging.

She looked down at the cuffs of her sweater, where the gold and maroon stripes wrapped about her wrist and she picked up her quill, stubbornly refusing to believe that James Potter could be the mystery bloke whose sweater she loved.

Of course, Lily Evans had no idea that she ought not to have had that sweater, or that it had arrived in her possession in another whole version of time...