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Her hands are cold.
He can’t remember the last he saw her. Did she run past him on some Order mission? Maybe they accidentally bumped into each other in Diagon Alley? Not paying attention or stopping to apologize. He wouldn't know. It’s too late anyway.
Lurking behind the bushes is all he can do now. Like the first time, they’ve met.
She’s laying there cold. Dead. And it’s all his fault.
He’s imagining the feel of her warm skin under his fingertips. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Imagine things. If he has to be honest, he’s been doing that since the beginning. Since before they even met.
It's all he ever had.
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It makes no sense. It’s not supposed to be her. She’s nothing to the Dark Lord. A Mudblood. Insignificant. So why did He choose her?
He needs to do something. He will do something. Anything.
He’ll go to anyone. He’ll beg. He’ll plead. He will save her. He will be the one to save her. And then she’ll see. When he'll be asked what he's prepared to give in return, he will tell the truth.
Anything.
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Her name is Scarlett or Sasha or something else that screams 'my parents are rich and Muggle '. He remembers her from Hogwarts. A Gryffindor year below him.
His ears strained to hear her talking. And he’s grasping at every word. He wouldn't normally bother, but he heard her name. He hears words he immediately wishes to forget.
Lily starts to show. James said it’s going to be a boy. They are so excited.
He didn’t even know she got married. Not that he hoped for an invitation. Not when she obviously married him. Of all people in the world. It had to be him. He can't believe she actually married that–.
And now she carries the proof that all the things he imagined them doing weren't just images he used to torture himself.
He doesn't want to listen anymore. But can’t stop. It’s the closest he's been to her in years.
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Avery is on his left, Mulciber's on his right. Just like they always were. They're finally getting what they waited for. What they worked for. They‘re in. Officially. Permanently. His left arm burns. As it should. A reminder. You are His now. Exactly like you wanted.
They've got work to do.
But even in this moment, his thoughts dangerously drift towards her. He can’t help but wonder if she’s in the similar position. Standing in some dusty room, badly matched carpet covering blood stains on the wooden floor. Potter on her right, Black on her left, swearing an oath to fight and resist. To die for the freedom they can never have.
He wishes she was here. With him. Where she belongs.
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He can’t escape them. They are everywhere. Until now he hasn’t truly noticed how much attention they draw to themselves. He spent years making sure she's within his vision, but now each time he gets his eyes on her, he is there too.
And they're always touching. Always.
His hands on her waist, hers in his hair as he keeps her pressed against him. Every single touch, each smile and kiss they share twists his heart deeper and deeper.
Look at us.
Look how happy and in love we are. We. Not you. Never you.
There is a rumour going around Hogwarts that last week they’ve been caught in compromising position by McGonagall. Something that Potter apparently is immensely proud of, since he burst into a loud laugh each time one of his mates mentions it. The worst of it all, Potter’s laugh is accompanied by blushing Lily who hides her face in his chest.
Disgusting.
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For someone who managed to pull the countless amount of pranks without any punishment, Potter is really not one for subtlety.
Sitting good six tables behind them, he can still make out their every third word.
They're planning something for Lupin’s birthday.
He remembers the gifts she gave to him. She loves to do that sort of a thing for her friends.
Friends.
That's what they are all now. She and that pack of swines. Spending birthdays, making plans, whispering in libraries with their elbows touching and faces leaning in way too close for just friends.
After the painfully silent summer of '76, he wasn't sure what to expect coming back to Hogwarts this year, but he certainly didn't see that coming. Fuck, when did they even start talking to each other? Did Potter plan all of this? The Lake, his slip out, her break up with that tosser Calderon. If he did, then he's much more cunning than anyone assumed.
Unfortunately for Potter, he can make some plans too.
And his plans will leave a deeper mark than this.
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She doesn’t even look at him anymore. She’s been mad at him before. Hasn’t talked to him before. She’s always quick to snap. But all of that involved ice cold glares with occasional harsh words. This is different. This feels… permanent.
He doesn't like it. He won't let her leave him like that. Not after everything.
She’ll need to get over it. She’ll understand that he didn’t mean to.
That she is different. To him. She’ll be back.
She has to.
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Humiliated.
He's never been more humiliated in his entire life.
But no more.
He will make them pay. He will give them what they deserve. For the pain, the humiliation, the loss. For her. And when he will be done with them, she will finally see what monsters they really are.
It’s not his fault. It’s their fault. It’s all their fault.
He will make her see that.
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...is just evil. Evil, Sev.
She doesn’t know what evil truly means. She’s too good for that. Too pure.
I don’t understand how you can be friends with them.
Who else is he supposed to be friends with? She leaves him alone with them, going on with her own mates.
He wasn’t even there when Mulciber got his hands on Macdoland. He wishes he was. She got what she deserved. Mudblood. There is no place for someone like her in here. The sooner she will realise that the better.
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It’s nothing. Just a joke.
She doesn’t believe him. He can see it in her eyes. She thinks he hides things from her. Hangs around with his little future Death Eaters. She’s not wrong.
But he’s not the only one with secrets.
He can see her flushed cheeks, slightly bruised lips. That’s what two hours spent with Liam Jorkins leave her with. Liam bloody Jorkins. A fellow Slytherin year above. One of those blood traitors who take pride in it. He thinks he can use Lily – his Lily – to make a statement? Not for long.
She deserves better.
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She’s been crying for a while now. Still gently shaking off the last sobs. He doesn't understand why she cares so much. She didn’t even know these people.
(Muggles. Mudbloods. Nothing more than trash.)
She should be grateful it’s not her. Maybe that’s why she’s crying. Out of gratitude. She should know better than that. He’s not going to let anything happen to her.
She will always have him and he will always have her.
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The Great Hall is packed with students and lively chatter. From the corner of his eye, he can see the Black’s boy. An air of nonchalance and superiority surrounds him.
The boy from the train standing behind catches him staring and leans in to whisper something in Black’s ear.
They both turn to him and snicker at something. Probably at him.
Wankers.
But it doesn't matter because Lily is right beside him, almost glowing.
They are finally here. Together. As they should be.
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They always come to this park. He can’t understand why. It is quite the distance from their house after all. Besides who in their right senses likes to hanging around Spinner’s End.
He never pays much attention to them. Kids. Muggles. With their silly games, just passing time till their death. But the more he watches the more he sees. He sees things her sister is desperate to hide.
A witch.
An actual witch. Here. In Cokeworth. He needs to talk to her. He needs her to know.
He’s got a plan and now all he needs is an opportunity.
When he finally gets his chance he can barely contain his excitement.
I know what you are.
It doesn't meet with his desirable outcome. It’s the fault of that shrilling banshee.
But she comes back. Later, alone. Stands straight right in front of him. Looks him in the eyes.
My names Lily.
Her eyes narrow.
Tell me about the witches.
Her hands are warm.