Chapter Text
Lily couldn’t sleep.
Maybe it was because of the way the rain pounded into the roof, the pinprick pattering giving her a headache. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop tossing and turning.
When someone knocked on the door, she thought it was just the rain at first.
It took several tries for her to finally sit up, dazed, and she first wondered if there was a hail storm.
When the knocking continued, she finally realized that someone was outside her door.
The good thing about having a sparse flat was that there was very little to bump into.
Lily crept out of her room slowly, her vision fuzzy with sleep. She padded over to the kitchen, where she removed her biggest knife from the knife block, and moved slowly to the door.
She tried to breathe as quietly as possible, though the downpour of rain would likely cover up most noises anyway. Suddenly, the shadows which rose in the corners of the room felt sinister. Then, she rested her hand on the doorknob for a few moments, bracing herself before she cracked the door open just slightly.
No one was there.
Then she looked down.
“Lily?”
Peering in through the crack in the door was Harry.
His hair was completely flat, drenched and sticking to his face as water dripped off his clothes and into a small puddle on her doormat.
“Oh my god,” Lily stepped back from the door and let it swing open, as the tension that had wound through her body released in one go.
Harry stepped in and then eyed the knife in her hand. “Were you going to stab me?”
Lily rubbed her eyes. “Harry, you scared me , I thought someone was here to murder me!” She put the knife in its proper place, then turned back to Harry to fully process the fact that he was standing in the middle of her flat, dripping water everywhere. “Wait. What are you doing here? Harry. How did you get here? What’s happening? Are you safe? Oh god, I need to get you a change of clothes, you’re going to catch a cold.”
Harry stared at her. “I walked here,” he said plainly, unfazed by her panic. “I wanted to see you.”
Lily still couldn’t process what was happening, as her tired brain attempted to parse out her sudden jump from fear to joy. She dropped to her knees and tugged Harry into a hug.
He was shivering, his body uncontrollably quaking in her arms. He was so cold, concerningly so.
Lily leaned back and stroked the wet hair out of his face so she could see him better. It
“I have a lot of questions,” she told him seriously. “But we’ve got to get you warmed up, alright?”
He nodded at her and she rushed to her room to find something for him to change into. She had no kids' clothing, so she combed her way through her dresser, hoping for anything that could be worn by Harry. She wasn’t sure what was appropriate to give a little boy to wear. She finally pulled out one of her sleep shirts, one that was already oversized on her. It had once belonged to her dad, one of the many shirts she’d taken from the donation boxes when Petunia tried to send everything from old house to a charity shop.
She handed the shirt to Harry, and sent him to the bathroom to change. Then, she set to boiling a kettle of water in the kitchen.
When Harry came out, looking very small and bedraggled in the oversized shirt, she pulled off her own fluffy cardigan and wrapped it around his shoulders.
Then, she hugged him again, because she just couldn’t help herself.
His wet hair soaked into her pajamas and she didn’t care.
“Are you hungry?” she asked him. “Do you want hot chocolate?”
He shrugged, still trapped in her arms. “I don’t know…”
“Are you sure? I’m going to make myself a mug of hot chocolate,” she said, realizing that he would probably refuse unless she was having some too.
“Fine,” he relented.
Lily plopped him down on the stool at the benchtop, and mixed together two mugs of hot chocolate.
She used her usual instant mix, although she added a spoonful of condensed milk to each mug, as her mum used to tell her that it was the secret for perfect hot chocolate.
Then, she pushed one of the mugs across the table to Harry.
While part of her wanted to send him to bed immediately, his chattering teeth told her he needed something warm in his system.
She also had no idea what to do.
Was his foster family sending out alerts, thinking that he’d been kidnapped?
“Harry,” she started, “how did you get here?”
“I walked,” he said.
“And, was that very far?” she asked.
Harry fidgeted a little. “I guess. But I remembered where the library was. And how to get to your flat from the library.”
Lily was momentarily proud of him for being able to remember all that. Then she thought about how dangerous the city was for a small child at night.
“Harry, do you know how dangerous that was? You could have been hurt!”
He looked up at her, his eyes almost fearful, and Lily realized that her voice had grown harsh in her fear.
“I’m not angry at you,” she said, trying to calm herself. “I’m just scared. I’m so relieved that you made it here safe, but you know you can’t do this again.”
Harry looked into his mug mournfully. “Why can’t I just stay here then?” he asked. His voice was so quiet, but it struck her painfully.
“Harry…” she trailed off. “You know… that’s just not how it works.”
“Why?” he insisted. “Why do I have to wait? Why do I have to stay with James?”
Lily frowned. “You don’t want to stay with James?”
“No,” Harry said, “I want to stay with you.”
“Harry, you haven’t been to James’ place yet. He’s got a huge flat. You’ll have your own bedroom! And a big living room. And I think he has a gaming console!”
“He doesn’t have you there though,” Harry muttered.
Lily traced her finger along the countertop in a figure eight, trying to focus on something which would make this conversation less painful, because as much as she knew that James was better for Harry, she wanted to live with him too. She wanted to be with him every waking moment of the day. To wake him up in the mornings and make him breakfast and walk him to school with a lunch box which she tucked a little note into every day.
But James was better for him. Lily was sure of it.
“Harry,” she said, because that was all she could make herself say if she didn’t want to cry.
“I’m staying here,” he insisted, head down but voice steady.
“I can’t… I have to call your social worker Harry.”
“No,” he said, his voice raising, “no, I don’t want you to do that.”
Due to what Lily suspected was Harry’s subpar childhood experiences, he was usually incredibly good at suppressing his emotions for an eight year old. It was all overflowing now.
Harry’s big green eyes were shiny and wet with unshed tears, and Lily felt her resolve growing shaky.
She had to be responsible. She was the adult. She was the mother here.
“Harry, your foster family is going to be worried,” she said, trying to explain everything in as palatable a way as possible. “When they realize you’re missing, they’re going to contact the police and your social worker. If they contact the police, they’re going to send out a search for you.”
“I don’t care,” Harry said, “I don’t want to go. Why won’t you let me stay with you?” The waver in his voice sent a devastating bolt of hopelessness through her.
“You know how I was worried about you? About you being safe? Everyone else needs to know you’re safe as well. They’re going to ask James if he’s seen you, so he’ll think you’re missing too. James needs to know you’re safe. He loves you, he’ll be worried about you.”
Lily tentatively reached out a hand to touch Harry’s shoulder, relief rushing through her when he didn’t flinch back from her. She gently rubbed circles on his back, feeling the knobs of his spine protruding under his skin.
Harry was still hunched over, looking gray and cold and miserable. Lily didn’t know what else to do.
“They won’t notice I’m gone until tomorrow anyway,” Harry muttered. “I left out the window.”
Lily chewed on her lip, feeling sick with nerves and worry, images of Harry prying open a window and sliding out flashing through her mind.
“You can stay with me tonight,” Lily said carefully, selecting each word as carefully as she could. “But I’m going to call James. We’re going to tell him that you’re here, and he’s going to have to contact your social worker tomorrow morning.”
Harry stared at her, his pout trembling with the effort of holding back tears. His expression ripped through her chest, leaving her aching and torn.
Instead of crying, she just gave him another hug, clutching his body to her chest with a possessive fervor. Words that she didn’t say ran through her head.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I wish I could keep you here with me forever. I’m sorry.
“You can call James,” Harry said into her ear, voice soft with defeat.
This was no victory for Lily.
“Do you want to talk to him?” she asked, and Harry shook his head, shoulders slumped and wilted.
“Okay,” she said, and went to her room to make the call. She would probably be waking
James up with this, but she knew he would want to know. Goodness knows that she would, if Harry went to James instead.
The phone rang until it went to voicemail.
Immediately, she got a call back from him.
“Huh?” James’ croaky voice came through the speaker. “Wasshappening?”
“James, you might want to wake yourself up a bit more for this,” Lily said.
There were shuffling noises from the other end, and a little click, which Lily assumed was a lamp being turned on.
“Okay, I’m up, what’s wrong?” James asked.
“Harry’s at my flat.”
“ What?”
“He ran away from his foster home and came to the flat.”
“What? How?”
“He snuck out the window of his room. And he knows where my flat is. He’s upset, he doesn’t want to go back. I promised him that he could stay the night. I thought you should know.”
There was a huge exhale from James. “I—wow. Okay. I wasn’t expecting that. Is he okay? Is his foster home bad?”
“I mean. It’s not perfect. But he hasn’t had any complaints. I think… I think he just wants to be with me. For some reason”
For a long moment, James was silent. Then he said, “of course he wants to be with you. You’re his mum. He loves you.”
Lily didn’t know what to say to that. The idea of Harry loving her made her feel full and warm, flush with something she didn’t deserve.
“It’s scary,” she said. “To think that he actually loves me. That he would do that.”
“I’m glad he went to you,” James said. “He feels safe with you.”
Lily sighed. “I was so happy when I first saw him. I don’t want to send him back.”
“He’ll be with me soon,” James said reassuringly. “A few more weeks. And then you can see him whenever you want.”
They were both silent for a while.
“I told him that you would call his social worker tomorrow morning,” she said to break the silence. “Because they’re going to report him missing. And he needs to go back to the foster family.”
James sighed. “I’ll call his social worker first thing tomorrow. She’ll probably come to your place to pick him up.”
“This isn’t going to mess up anything in the process, right?” Lily asked.
“No, it’ll be fine,” James said. “You don’t need anything, right? I can come over if you need—”
“It’s okay James,” Lily said. “Go back to sleep. Harry’s fine. Just let me know when you call his social worker, okay?”
James agreed, and Lily hung up, feeling a little better about all this.
When Lily came out of the kitchen, she found Harry, slumped over the counter fast asleep. His abandoned mug of hot chocolate sat off to the right, his hand still right next to it, like he’d been about to grab it. Clearly, the adrenaline high of making his way here, and then all the emotions when he’d arrived, had worn him out.
Lily looked around her flat, wondering what she was going to do. She wished there was a helpline to call, to ask what a good parent would do if their son in foster care ran away to be with them.
All she could do was what she thought was best.
So Lily maneuvered her arms around Harry, doing her best not to disturb him as she scooped him up into her arms, and carried him to her bed.
His eyes opened sleepily as she settled him down on the old spring mattress, and she stroked his hair and made soothing noises to try and calm him down.
“What’s happening?” he asked drowsily, eyes fluttering.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, “everything’s going to be just fine. Goodnight Harry.”
As she spoke, his eyes drifted back closed.
Lily climbed into bed next to him, and Harry almost unconsciously moved towards her, tucking his head in the crook of her shoulder.
He was small and warm and perfect in her arms.
He was her baby.
Then, right as she thought he’d gone back to sleep, she heard him mumble, “goodnight Mum.”
Lily didn’t say anything to James about being called “mum” by Harry.
Watching Harry get into the back of the social worker’s car the next morning hurt even more than she’d thought, now that she knew that Harry not only cared for her, but truly thought of her as his mother.
She’d spent the day with an emptiness in her chest, as though Harry had gone off and taken her heart with him as he left.
James would probably be happy for her if she told him. He would be eager to be called “dad” by Harry.
Lily wasn’t ready to be congratulated. She needed to deal with the fact that once again, she’d let him go.
On this occasion, she wasn’t abandoning him forever, but she still could hardly bear thinking about how Harry had pleaded to stay with her.
This time, Harry had infiltrated every corner of her mind.
Clearly, he’d infiltrated James’ mind as well, because they talked about Harry for the entire drive to Petunia’s.
But then he’d brought up how he was getting his flat ready, and then started talking about decorating a room for Harry. Then they talked about what they thought Harry was interested in, and what they were interested in as kids, and if maybe Harry was a perfect little mix of them, and how sweet that would be. Of course, they then reassured each other that they wouldn’t mind if he didn’t like what they liked, because they were his parents, and they loved him, and they would support him no matter what he did or liked for his entire life.
It was almost calming, talking about Harry. It put Lily in a good mood. It made her feel like a real mum.
She reached Petunia’s house full of composure and purpose.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” James asked.
Lily considered it, considered how mad it would make Petunia to see her, how having backup might make her more confident. Then she said, “no. I think I need to do this alone.”
James smiled and nodded, understanding her perfectly. “I’ll wait in the car.”
Lily sucked in a fortifying breath, and stared at the perfect little suburban house in front of her. There was only one car in the driveway, which meant that Vernon was thankfully out. In a little act of rebellion, she walked on the perfectly mowed lawn instead of the laid out pathway up to the front door.
There was a happy little welcome mat and two potted plants flanking the door, creating a farce of false hospitality.
Lily made a fist and knocked twice, two crisp, harsh sounds.
She didn’t have to wait long for the door to open.
Petunia stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, mouth pinched. She didn’t move from the doorway, only stared at Lily viciously.
“Oh come on Tuney,” Lily said, “just let me in. Or I’ll make a scene in your front yard and your neighbors will judge you.”
Petunia continued glaring, but reluctantly let Lily in the house.
Just to be petty, Lily didn’t take off her shoes, which were just a little muddy and grassy from walking up the lawn.
Petunia’s eye twitched, but otherwise, she said nothing.
“Are you done with all the dramatics?” Petunia asked, her voice sharp and cutting.
“No.” Lily said. “Do you know who’s outside your house right now? James Potter. We’re co-parenting. He’s adopting Harry, my son. And because of that, we’ve actually been looking into his history. Did you know that they have no records of Harry before he turned three?”
As Lily spoke, Petunia’s face had slowly grown pink, but the second she said that, Petunia’s face turned white, and her eyes grew wide.
“Where was he?” Lily asked, her resolve growing sharper when Petunia reacted like that. It was a clear inadvertent admission of guilt. “You must know. What did you do?”
Something about the way Petunia looked, stricken and guilty, made Lily even angrier.
“Come on,” Lily insisted. “Say something. Defend yourself. Lie. You know, what you usually do.”
“Lily. You’re being ridiculous,” said Petunia. This time, her words, which were so familiar, didn’t have their usual sharp edge. She sounded uncertain now, defensive.
“I’m not. Stop saying that. Stop calling me that. You’re always belittling me.”
Petunia rolled her eyes. “It’s not belittling, I’m just being honest. You need to be realistic, stop living in this dream world.”
“You always act like you think you know so much better than me. I know I’m your younger sister, but we’re equals now.”
“Find a husband. Become an actual adult. Then maybe I can treat you like an equal. Instead of doing that, you insist on acting like a child. ”
There was a hissing frustration growing just beneath her skull which made her want to yell at Petunia, but she knew she needed to focus on Harry.
“You can’t respect the fact that I have a different life from you. Just because I’m not living the most traditional lifestyle, it doesn’t mean that my life is any less worthy than yours. You’re so obsessed with me living the life you want that you did something to Harry.” Her bubbling anger spilled over in a yell. “What did you do Petunia? What did you do with him when you took him away?”
Lily’s rage only seemed to fire Petunia up as well. She stood firm and closed off, looking at Lily as though she were still ten, and throwing a tantrum.
Lily’s eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything to use. She skimmed over lacy doilies and a giant portrait of baby Dudley until her eyes caught on an ornate, ugly vase on a side table. She knew that vase. It had belonged to Vernon’s grandmother.
Before she had the time to think out what she was doing, Lily was marching right over to the vase, and lifting it off the table.
“Tell me what you did, or I’ll smash this vase.”
Petunia’s look was one of pure condescension. “You wouldn’t.”
Lily saw herself the way Petunia saw her, it was written all over her sister’s face. She wondered how she hadn’t noticed before, how little Petunia thought of her. Lily wondered when it had changed. When had she gone from Petunia’s endearing, occasionally irritating but still lovable little sister, to this .
Petunia was her big sister. Petunia had always been her big sister. But to Petunia, Lily was nothing, an irritation, the favorite daughter, someone to be resented and looked down on.
There was a wall of family pictures in Petunia’s living room, and Lily wasn’t in a single one of the images.
“I would,” she said. “You know I would. Just tell me what happened, and we never have to see each other again.”
Petunia spluttered, trying to speak but failing. She didn’t have words, but she was starting to look worried for her vase.
Lily wanted to drop it on the ground now, just for the satisfaction of having it shatter, but knew she needed to wait.
“Come on. What happened when you took Harry?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Petunia insisted. “Vernon just helped me find a place to send the boy.”
There was a rushing in her ears. Whatever Petunia said after that was drowned out.
“ Vernon ?” Lily dropped the vase, not out of spite, but out of shock.
Petunia made a high pitched squeak, and her hand flew to her mouth.
“You told Vernon?” Lily asked, her voice cracking just slightly. “And you let him take my baby away?”
“Lily, he’s family ,” Petunia said, her voice high and strained. “And he didn’t take the boy, he just found someone who would.”
Lily could not believe that Petunia was still trying to justify her actions.
“What. Did. He. Do.” Lily said, each word a battering ram, swinging into a building, one time after another.
Petunia faltered. “He—He just—You know his sister, Marge.”
“Are you telling me that Marge Dursley took my fucking baby?” Lily asked, disbelieving. Although she didn’t know Marge well, she knew her enough to be afraid.
Back when Petunia had still invited Lily on her Christmas vacations, Lily had always been made to share a room with Marge Dursley. The woman was supposedly an expert bulldog breeder, but she had a disturbing passion for using shock collars on her dogs, which always made Lily uneasy.
“Gosh, of course not Lily,” Petunia said, a familiar chiding in her voice. “She didn’t take him. We passed him off to her for a while and—”
“I’m sorry what? ” Lily asked, because what fucking logic was going in Petunia’s head to think that ‘passing off children’ was normal .
“Stop interrupting me,” Petunia snapped. “Marge has those dogs you know, so she knows what she’s doing. So Vernon paid her a monthly stipend to mind the boy when we were too busy to worry about it.”
Lily blinked.
She shook her head, and tried to figure out how she was even supposed to respond to that.
“So I didn’t do anything to the boy,” Petunia continued. “I just handed him off to someone with experience.”
“You thought it was okay to do that?” Lily was yelling now. She had lost any composure. It was taking all her willpower to not scream. “You think experience with dogs equates to experience in childcare? Marge hates children!”
“She kept him alive, didn’t she?” Petunia said primly, almost taking pride in the fact that she was more successful than Lily at keeping all her emotions stuffed away.
“You paid Marge to do the bare minimum and keep my son alive ?” Lily asked, aghast. It made her sick to even think about how Marge would have treated newborn Harry.
“Grow up Lily, you’re naive to think that I had the time to interview prospective families and deal with all that paperwork. Vernon dropped a hefty sum on the boy. He took the problem off our hands, it was the perfect solution.”
Lily didn’t mean to do it. She didn’t even know what she was doing, just that suddenly she lunged forward and grabbed Petunia by the shoulders.
She shook her, probably not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to scare her sister. She just couldn’t handle it, hearing Petunia speak so callously of her son, of her Harry.
Petunia’s shoulders were thin and scrawny. She’d always been smaller than Lily, which had been an advantage when they were children who play-fought. Now, Petunia’s body was stiff, her eyes wide, as Lily pulled her close.
“Tell me, Tuney. How would you feel if I did that to Dudley? Don’t bother trying to say it’s different. It’s not different. How would you feel if I went upstairs right now, took Dudley and paid an evil person to keep him alive?” Lily’s grip was growing tighter, she knew it, but she couldn’t let go. “But you know what? I wouldn’t do that! Because I’m not a fucking lunatic, like you ! Now, how the hell did he get to London with no records? Tell me. ”
When Petunia didn’t say anything, Lily shook her again.
“It was Marge!” Petunia exclaimed, voice squeaking. “She got tired of hearing him cry, so Vernon decided to just drop him off at a police station. I didn’t do anything! He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want to worry me!”
“Do you not understand how insane that sounds?” Lily asked, her insides ripping themselves apart in frustration and rage. When Petunia said nothing, she prodded for more. “That your husband would do that? And that you don’t even care about it now… oh my god.”
“I handed him off to Marge for a reason,” Petunia insisted. “Excuse me for not making the illegitimate son of my irresponsible reckless sister my first priority!”
Lily let go, pushing Petunia back as she did.
Petunia stumbled back, and nearly fell to the ground.
Lily’s hands were fists at her side, repressing her desire to kick a hole in Petunia’s walls. The only reason she didn’t do so was because she knew that her sister was the kind of person who would try and sue her for property damage.
At least now Lily knew that wouldn’t be the craziest thing Petunia had done.
Instead, Lily marched up to the family picture wall in Petunia’s living room, and began pulling off any of the pictures that included their parents (which she had strategically been cut out of).
“What in the world are you doing?” Petunia asked sharply, still sounding a little shaken.
“I’m taking Mum and Dad back!” Lily shouted. “Because they would be ashamed to see you and what you’ve done! I’m glad they’re not here right now, because I don’t know what it would do to them, to know that you thought that was okay! You gave their grandson to a stranger. You gave your nephew to a cruel woman without a single thought. Do you know how many people out there want to adopt newborns? He could have been adopted by a family! He didn’t have to go to fucking Marge. But you were so lazy and careless that you lied to me and let Vernon give him to Marge .”
Once she’d snatched all the photos with her parents in them, she stepped back and admired her work. It was kind of sad, how few empty spaces were left on Petunia’s wall without their parents. The majority of the photos were of Dudley, and Vernon’s side of the family.
“I have half a mind to take Dudley’s pictures as well,” Lily said heatedly, “because honestly, if you could do that to your own nephew, who knows what you’re doing to your son. But, you know what? I’m not evil! So I wouldn’t do that.”
Petunia stared at her, and Lily stared unflinchingly back.
“Goodbye Petunia,” Lily said, the photos with her parents clutched safely in her hand. She was out of breath as she spoke. “I hope I never see you again. And I hope that Dudley knows that he can always come to his aunt when he needs anything. Because unlike you, I would never let a child get hurt as a result of our broken relationship.”
Petunia’s mouth opened, like she was going to speak, but Lily didn’t care what she had to say.
She turned around, and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door so hard behind her that she heard the furniture rattling inside.
As she stormed out, James was already starting the engine.
“That’s disgusting,” Lily cried, as she threw the passenger’s door open. “I just—I don’t know what to do with that!”
James stared at her, wide eyed.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Apparently, my own sister thinks that it’s okay to give children away to people who hate children!” Lily fumed, throwing herself into the seat, and yanking the seatbelt violently as she buckled herself in.
James still hadn’t started driving. He just looked at her, concerned.
“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively.
“Me? Okay? I’m perfectly fine,” Lily snapped, even though it was obvious that she was not perfectly fine. “You know, just cut ties with my sister forever because she paid her sister-in-law to ‘keep Harry alive’!”
James’ face twisted in confusion. “What?”
“Vernon has this sister, Marge,” Lily said, her arms crossed, foot tapping furiously with all the pent up anger and energy she had. “She breeds dogs, but for some reason, Petunia thought she could pass Harry off to her, just pay the woman to take care of him for three years. And Marge? She’s—God, she’s just mean! She likes corporal punishment! How could she—I just don’t get it.”
“That’s…” James started, then trailed off. He didn’t seem to have any words.
Lily slumped back in her seat and pressed the back of her hand against her closed eyes.
“Yeah, I know,” Lily said. “And then lo and behold, Marge got tired of Harry, so Vernon—Petunia’s pig of a husband—took Harry to a police station and just left him there. Petunia didn’t even know!”
Lily saw James’ fingers, which rested on the steering wheel, tighten, knuckles white with the tension.
“He did that, did he?” James asked in a barely restrained manner.
Lily thought it was prime time to leave. “Let’s go, before you get out of the car and do something you regret,” Lily said. “Before I do something I regret.”
“Reckon I can knock over her mailbox?” James asked.
“No, mailboxes are protected by federal law,” Lily said regretfully. “But can you drive over Petunia’s lawn? That’ll make her mad.”
James grinned, and hit the accelerator, pulling around in a circle then lumping his car up the curb to turn a circle into Petunia’s lawn.
Lily smiled, tickled by the small gesture which she knew would plague Petunia endlessly.
It was nothing compared to what her sister had done to her, but Lily figured you always had to start somewhere.
They spent the drive back home in silence. There was nothing to say.
As angry as she was at Petunia, Lily knew deep down that she was responsible for all of this. If she had only told James, or handled Harry’s adoption by herself, or just decided to raise him by herself, none of this would have happened.
Instead, she trusted her sister.
What was there to do now? How did she go on knowing Harry’s past, and at the same time not knowing what had really happened to him.
It was all up to her imagination, to consider the kind of neglect he would have experienced during his first three years of life at the hands of Marge Dursley.
She knew from her research that most children only developed a more pronounced ability for long term memory around three or four. However, she also knew that infancy was a crucial time for brain development.
As James pulled up outside her building, Lily tried to figure out what to say.
If there even was anything to say.
James spoke first.
“Lily, I think you should spend weekends at my place when Harry moves in,” he said, and Lily’s brain did a funny little reset.
She hadn’t been expecting that at all.
“What?” she asked. “Why?”
James scrubbed his hand through his hair as he spoke. “Because of what happened with Harry that night. He’s attached to you Lily. He’s really attached to you. I’ve got two spare rooms, and my flat is closer to your work than yours is. I’m worried about him. He doesn’t really know me. I think having you there might help… ease him in.”
“Weekends.” Said Lily blankly.
“You don’t have to,” James added. “Just. I think it might help. That’s all.”
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Lily said.
She didn’t even have to think about it. The fact that James was giving her this chance, this chance to be with Harry even more. It meant a lot.
There was something about that night with Harry that made her realize just how much he needed her. He needed her, and she wasn’t going to make anything better by avoiding him and hating herself and thinking that she would be a bad mum.
She was his mum, and staying away would do nothing but ensure that she really was a bad mum, just because she never even tried.
Lily was going to try.