Author's Note: To those about to read this I warn that this is a sequel to "The Night Before the Morning After" which in turn was a sequel to "Life in the Fast Lane" and if you have not read either of those you will get this story very out of context.

August 1995, Sunday 8:00 am, A Morning That Also Never Happened, which Followed a Previous Night that Never Happened, Following Yet Another Day that Didn't Happen, but wasn't Implausible.

Lily's first thought was that sunlight hurt and was generally unpleasant. Which, although her thoughts were rather bleary and sluggish at the moment, she couldn't ever say she'd been for or against the sun as a whole. In fact, before now, she would have landed on the pro-sun side of that particular argument, but evidently things had changed.

She groaned, wincing and seeking refuge under the covers and trying to piece together what the hell had even happened. Lily couldn't say she was usually a morning person, but she couldn't remember if getting her brain going had ever felt so much like trying to push a giant concrete block up a hill in winter. Every time she tried to remember something or even think it was like there was this hideous distracting grinding in her head that just prompted her to go back and sleep and never wake up again.

It was almost, in fact, a bit like getting concussed by Squirrel or that one time she'd almost killed herself by running head first into an uncooperative platform nine and three-quarters. There was that dull pounding inside of her head and an odd tingling as if her head was filled with tiny plastic pellets moving this way and that along with a very distracting ache.

With that thought alone, Lily buried herself deeper under the covers.

First…

Well, first, where the hell was she?

Lily had lived in a lot of places in her short life and slept under a fair number of covers but this set didn't seem immediately familiar. It wasn't the cupboard beneath the stairs, it wasn't the Dursley's extra bedroom, it wasn't Slytherin or Default, it wasn't the bunk she'd set up in Riddle Inc, it wasn't Wool's Orphanage…

It was…

She cracked open an eye, confirmed that the sheets were of a dark silk variety that only someone with lots of money and absolutely no taste could possibly afford. Yes, it was a bit reminiscent of the guest room Lily usually ended up in at the Malfoy estate, only those sheets were always some mixture of green or silver (Slytherin pride and all). Black everything was too melodramatic and angst filled even for them.

However, the quality of the fabric, yes, that was the same.

Lily paused, wondering if this meant she was at the Malfoy's or was just in some place eerily like the Malfoy residence. For all Lily knew they probably bought their sheets at the same magic silkworm factory in China. In fact, Lily was somehow almost certain that this was the case.

Well, there was an easy way to clarify that, and that was to figure out what she'd been doing before she ended up here. Except that, somehow, with her pounding head and uncooperative thoughts, was harder than it sounded.

Next to her Lily heard something rustle and maybe even mutter, pulling the sheets tiredly away from her while she tried to think and tug them back to protect her from the dreaded sun sneaking through the blinds.

Well, she remembered… Yes, she had come here, or rather to the Malfoy estate, with a lot of champagne in order to seduce Draco Malfoy because things had gotten out of hand.

Lily stopped, reexamined that thought, felt her eyes widen and a great pit open in her stomach as she combined the thoughts of seducing Draco Malfoy to waking up in a Malfoy-esque bed she didn't recognize.

A Malfoy-esque bed while she currently didn't seem to be wearing clothes, appeared to also be covered in the dried sweat one could expect after a night of passionate love making, and was currently occupied by someone else who sounded pretty damn masculine.

Lily, suddenly far more awake, had the intense urge to vomit, "Fuck!"

More annoyed only half-awake grumbling, maybe even a curse or two, and tugging on sheets with the half-hearted insistence one could only expect from someone half-awake who didn't want to be awake at all. All of this coming from what Lily realized must be her bed partner who she suddenly didn't want to turn around and recognize as Draco Malfoy. Or even just, you know, see his pale ass.

An ass that she now realized she must have been a full and appreciatively drunken witness of the night before. Not just his ass either but also his…

Lily cut off her own thoughts with what could only be described as a gurgle of despair earning yet another displeased mutter and grunt from the hungover naked Malfoy.

Wait, no, no that wasn't right. She and Malfoy had gotten plastered, that part had certainly happened, but then they just ended up sort of venting at each other and talking about their problems. Lily talked about having hormonal needs and settling for Malfoy while Malfoy talked about Wizard Lenin, Pansy, and settling for Malfoy.

Even with more than a healthy consumption of alcohol they hadn't gotten anywhere. Hadn't gotten close to anywhere. In fact, if Lily was remembering right, the more she'd drunk the less enthused she'd been about the entire prospect. If it'd been up to Lily she'd probably have just staggered off to bed in despair at having failed to find an able and willing man in her life.

Lily sighed with relief, almost willing to let that be the end of that and gratefully fall back into sleep.

It took embarrassingly long to put together that there was a slight problem with this theory.

If Lily had gotten drunk, and Lily hadn't slept with Malfoy, then who the hell was mysterious bed occupant number two?

Alright, so she and Malfoy had gotten drunk, just kind of sat there and then yes, yes, Wizard Lenin had come in after fleeing Bellatrix LeStrange's advances once again! And it had been fleeing, he'd been slightly out of breath, wide-eyed and rustled as he'd slammed the door behind him as if that could shut out the memory of naked Bellatrix.

Lily had found that hilarious, still did, and had pointed out as much which must have driven him to the alcohol. Then Wizard Lenin said something very judgemental about the whole seduce Malfoy plan. Which… Which it was his damn idea, and she'd even pointed that out, but he'd dismissed that in typical Wizard Lenin fashion while he guzzled down champagne.

Then for whatever reason Malfoy had still been sitting there and she and Wizard Lenin had started talking, except Lily was pretty tanked and could hardly remember any specific details. It was something about regrets and Bellatrix and sex and he'd… He'd smiled at her, at some point, that strange smile that was both sardonic and soft all at once. That odd self-deprecating yet hopelessly romantic smile that only he seemed to possess, that many would say he possessed despite of himself. Yet, Lily had never thought that, she'd always known that was perhaps the only smile he could ever really have. That the bitterness, even the anger, he so often wore was something he'd collected and honed over the years to hide a surprisingly soft and tender interior that even he had forgotten existed.

At his heart he was a thing that yearned and had not yet quite reconciled himself to bitter disappointment and reality.

So, he'd smiled to her, even with Draco Malfoy in the room, and she'd stared because the expression hadn't faltered as it so often would or disappeared behind some wry witticism or distraction…

And then he'd said something about things attached to strings with a finger pressed against her lips.

And then…

Lily rolled over, turned to face what thankfully was not Draco Malfoy, but instead met the wide open and expressionless eyes of Wizard Lenin who, also, was naked under the covers and covered in dried sweat.

For a moment they just stared at each other, unblinking, without any emotion whatsoever crossing either of their faces. She kept eye contact even as a part of her, the part of her that had gotten her into this mess in the first place, was urging her to look down and see if the actual goods matched the blurry memories of the night before.

Because now that she thought about it there were memories. Memories of abdominal muscles, of lips, of hands wandering down below waistbands and squeezing…

"So," Lily said, loudly, to interrupt both her own thoughts and the overwhelming silence.

Wizard Lenin said nothing, did nothing, was in fact doing a rather alarmingly accurate Rabbit impersonation.

"So," Lily repeated, a little more calmly as if she was perfectly in control of the situation. She then paused again, wondering what on earth she was supposed to add after that. Somehow "It was good for me, was it good for you?" seemed tactless and vulgar. Similarly, "That was a great first time and I think it's all downhill from here, Lenin, old buddy old pal," seemed similarly awkward, tactless, vulgar, and just kind of cringe worthy. And "I love you" felt…

She didn't know how it felt, simple, profound, heartbreakingly true, and a large and bitter string between them that could never be broken.

A string that Wizard Lenin had insisted could not exist.

"So," Lily tried again, for the third time now, "We're cool?"

His eyebrows raised and mouth opened ever so slightly in confusion and irritation, finally a sign of life, and as always he instinctively moved his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose even as he repeated in a rather hoarse voice, "We're cool, really, Lily?"

"Well," Lily stopped, looked down at herself, looked over at him, "I'm cool."

"You're cool?!"

She wasn't cool, but something told her that this was one of those moments where you must desperately fake it until you make it. Lest something far more important shatter, "Sure, I mean, there was alcohol but… There were no strings attached, not a single thread, and so we cool."

He opened his mouth, closed it and pursed his lips together, and finally opened it again, "Your blasé carelessness will forever astound me, Lily."

"So, we're not cool?" Lily clarified, something nervous and nagging rumbling about in her stomach at the thought.

He pulled the covers off over his head instead of answering, wincing and rubbing at his eyes in the sunlight while Lily did the same. Finally, walking away from her, dutifully ignoring the fact that her eyes couldn't help but stray to his back, he entered the bathroom and then slammed the door shut behind him.

Leaving Lily in the bed, now staring at the ceiling, twiddling her thumbs together and trying to compose herself for the rest of whatever conversation they were going to have. Somehow, she was sure, even as he turned the shower on that he was probably doing the same thing.

Lily, hesitantly and quietly, tested out each to the unresponsive and ornate Malfoy ceiling.

"Does this make me your dark queen, perhaps?"

No, oh god no, he'd run for the hills and then she'd run for the hills. Plus, that whole thing just screamed, well, Wizard Trotsky. He'd certainly not hesitate to make her his dark queen over all Great Britain and whatever extended empire he happened to build for himself.

Lily had repeatedly, and pointedly, said no to being Wizard Trotsky's queen and goddess.

"You know, Lenin, I wouldn't mind Round Two: Electric Boogaloo."

Oh, that was somehow even worse and would likely have even more disastrous results. He'd probably set fire to the Malfoy residence to remove evidence that round one had ever happened.

"Hey, I'm great at memory manipulation, and I know that horrifies you, but if you do happen to want to erase the last twelve hours I can…"

She trailed off, the words dying on her tongue as she thought that even if he would accept (which he would never) she couldn't… She didn't want this moment gone, for him or for her. So, what if there were strings? They had always had strings between them. By god, their destinies prophesied by Sybil Trelawney had bound them together so tightly that there deserved to be ballads about them. Given that and the fact that he, a piece of his own soul, had once rested in her head for more than a decade, it almost seemed natural that they'd wound up here together.

In fact, if Lily was the reader of this particular tale, she would have been mildly surprised and perhaps a bit dubious if the road they were travelling hadn't ended here in one way or another. Any deviation on the path, any passing curiosity of Cedric Diggory or Bellatrix Black, were really only ever just curiosities and distractions. More, they had always, both of them, known it probably from the beginning.

So why not end up here?

Why deny things dangling from strings?

Lily sat up, dangled her feet over the bed and debated grabbing a sheet for a makeshift toga, then decided against it given that Wizard Lenin had gotten the full drunken show of that already the night before. She walked to the door of the bathroom, pale toes curling at contact with the plush carpet, and knocked on the door, "Lenin, I really think we're both overreacting to this. I just thought about it for the past… two seconds or so, and I think that this was maybe kind of inevitable. Well, alright, you had a choice and I had a choice, but just look at Trotsky. He's the majority of your soul and he's… Well, you know…"

There was no answer, just the sound of the shower, Lily's brow furrowed and she knocked again, louder, and asked, "Hey, Lenin, can you hear me? I just think we should probably talk now before you implode or something."

There as a high probability, Lily suddenly thought to herself, that Wizard Lenin would implode.

Again, there was no answer. Lily frowned, stepped back to look at the door as if that might tell her how he was taking this so calmly or else had resorted to desperately ignoring her existence. She stepped closer again and shouted, "Ignoring me won't make me go away, Lenin! I will break down this door if I have to."

Again, not a word.

Well, Lily thought with a shrug, she had warned him. And so, with a blinding headache and a lot more power than she probably needed, Lily tore the door off its hinges and stepped inside to find a bathroom and a shower entirely empty of Wizard Lenin.

She blinked, blinked again, as if that might summon him from the ether.

Then, cursing, Lily exclaimed, "That motherfucker, he just hit and run!"

Author's Note: A sequel to "The Night Before the Morning After" that hilarious story where Lily and Wizard Lenin drunkenly do it. I enjoy it, clearly.

Thanks for reading, reviews are greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter