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Sticks and stones may break my bones, her mother always said, but words will never hurt me.
From the time Lily was young, however, she knew that words had power.
Witch, they would call her where she came from, if they knew where she went for several months a year. Freak, her sister declared when the letter came. Mudblood, a former friend sneered, revealing what everyone else already saw.
The words etch themselves in her mind, even when she outwardly assures everyone else that they don’t matter.
New rumors shouldn’t get to her, but there is something different about these ones. From across the hall, she can hear every word that is meant for or about her.
“Yeah, that’s her. It’s sick, if you ask me.”
Lily determinedly faces away from the table at the other end of the hall. She tries to look like nothing rattles her and eats breakfast, as if sordid tales about what she was doing during the last Hogsmeade visit aren't the topic of choice this morning.
“Heard they caught Evans with her hand down a girl’s skirt.”
Jamie squeezes her hand under the table. Ordinarily, it might make her heart skip or at least get Lily to smile. Now, it feels like a weight on her chest.
“In the alley, is what I heard.”
Setting her fork down noisily, Lily moves as if she’s going to try to leave. Jamie’s hand is insistent in hers when hazel and green eyes meet. “We don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” she whispers, and Lily almost believes her.
“They’re idiots,” Sirius adds from across the table. The fact that he says it through a mouthful of toast actually makes it feel more genuine.
“Mudblood whores like her will take anything they can get!”
At this, Lily snaps to attention. The word goes through her like a bolt of lightning, charring the branch of hope Jamie’s words inspired.
She’s aware suddenly that a hand is no longer in hers.
Lily whips her head around in time to see the star Gryffindor chaser running across the Great Hall. Her dark hair is going in every direction. There’s intent clear in her eyes, her tie is half undone as always, and damn it, Lily has never seen anyone so heartbreakingly beautiful.
Even when she’s being held back by two professors, shouting threats and vowing to do a whole lot worse than a punch.
Mulciber is on the ground for a few seconds, but he comes up snarling. Professor McGonagall casts a shield between them before there can be more blood.
Lily is out of her seat and by Jamie’s side in an instant, trying to evaluate what went so horribly wrong so quickly.
“Miss Evans,” her Head of House says, relief clear in her voice at the sight of the generally more reasonable of the two Head Girls, “please escort Miss Potter to the Hospital Wing.”
She nods, not trusting herself to speak.
The visible struggle goes out of Jamie when Lily touches her arm, but she levels another threat toward the laughing group of Slytherins by the table. “I’m not finished with you!”
“That will be enough, Miss Potter! Another ten points from Gryffindor.”
Lily tugs on her arm urgently, desperate to get away from any prying questions and curious eyes. Thankfully, Jamie knows when to follow and does so now.
The Entrance Hall is quiet compared to the commotion of the Great Hall. It feels even quieter, because, for once, Jamie doesn’t try to fill the silence with noise. Lily doesn’t try to say anything until they’re in an empty corridor and behind a tapestry, safely tucked in a spot only known to four particular mapmakers and Lily.
The light hasn’t gone from Jamie’s eyes, though it has changed. Only a few minutes ago, it was something desperate and vicious. Now, it’s the more common kind of spark, as if this morning was some grand adventure she planned from the start.
“Did you see me, Evans? Defending your honor and all that?”
“Was that what that was?” Lily counters, voice fragile.
Jamie shrugs the same way she does when she gets caught in the middle of some prank. Like the whole world is a joke and she’s the only one who gets it. Like she’ll get another detention on her record and move on, learning another way to not get caught next time.
“‘Course,” she answers. “I’m not going to let them talk about you like that. Don’t girls like it when their boyfriends defend their honor?” A brief look of confusion momentarily crosses her face, but Jamie takes a step closer to Lily, her hands finding a familiar place on her waist. “I’m not exactly your boyfriend, but I thought you’d be happy.”
“You’re bleeding, and I’m supposed to be happy?”
Jamie’s gaze drops to her hand for the first time. “This?” She holds her split knuckles up to the light. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” Lily shakes her head, the wall behind her back keeping her in Jamie’s hold. “You punched him. You never think about what you’re doing, and it’s going to -”
Jamie cuts Lily off by pressing her lips against hers.
It’s heaven and every lovely thing in the world and how she wants to spend the rest of her life. Lily melts against her, and Jamie pulls closer so more parts of them are touching. For a few seconds, nothing else matters except never letting this feeling disappear.
When she remembers what happened at breakfast, Lily makes herself push Jamie away. Even now, though, she can’t make herself take her hands off her shoulders. Touching her somewhere is better than nothing.
“You can’t just kiss me and make this go away, Potter.”
“And why not?”
“We can’t. They don’t even want purebloods like you talking to people like me. If they knew -”
Jamie doesn’t let her finish. “I don’t care, Lily!” She can hear the note of anger in Jamie’s voice, and Lily doesn’t think it’s only directed at the Slytherins.
“We have to care! It’s not that easy, Jamie. Don’t you know what they’re capable of? They could hurt you, they could...”
Hands are in her hair, and she doesn’t have the energy to pull away. She doesn’t want to pull away. She wants things to be as easy as the other girl thinks they can be. She wants to hug her close and forget about everything else.
Softly, Jamie pressed a kiss to her forehead. Lily lets herself release a sob when words don’t work and buries her face in Jamie’s neck. The arms around her don’t make everything go away, but they do make her feel better.
Slowly, she pulls away and wipes her face with the back of her hand. Jamie runs her thumb over Lily’s cheeks, brushing away tear tracks.
Before either of them can say anything else, Lily pulls Jamie down, fits her body against hers, and kisses her.
--
Although Jamie let her clean the worst of it and wrap her knuckles with a bandage, Lily wonders if it was the best thing to do. The whole school knew about the fight McGonagall stopped, so she doesn’t really see the logic in not going to Madame Pomfrey. Jamie insists, though, and Lily doesn’t have the heart to enforce something that might not matter.
One night, with their legs tangled in the covers of Lily’s bed and the curtains pulled shut to keep everyone else out, Lily adds Jamie’s arm to the list of places she seeks to memorize with her mouth. She isn’t deterred from her mission when her lips brush across Jamie’s pulse point and make her giggle.
Jamie’s hand closes abruptly, however, when Lily’s mouth makes it to the back of her hand.
“You think it’s going to scar?”
Lily drops a row of kisses across Jamie’s knuckles and nods. “Yeah. Probably.”
“Good.” Lily looks up and sees a familiar half smirk that she can draw from memory. “Reminder to everyone not to mess with my girl.”
In the moment, Lily rolls her eyes, decides to leave the memorization of her hand for another day, and presses Jamie into the mattress.
Now, she can’t stop thinking about the fact that she’s the cause of an actual scar, something permanent, something forever.
Jamie may think it’s nothing, but Lily is used to her dismissing every injury as if it’s a papercut. When she’s nearly knocked off her broom in the middle of a Quidditch match, she insists that it was only for dramatic effect. When a prank goes slightly awry and she comes back to the Common Room with a black eye, she calls it nothing more than a laugh.
For days, she carries the guilt inside of her.
To avoid it, Lily starts kissing her in increasingly dangerous places. Breaks between classes are chances to sneak away and forget about everything except Jamie’s mouth and hands. Any time that isn’t taken by schoolwork or mandatory responsibilities is spent memorizing each other. In the middle of rounds, Lily hooks her leg around Jamie’s hip and dares her to make her scream.
When they’re alone, it feels like it can be all right.
As soon as they’re back, however, she wonders if she’s making it worse. This path can lead to exactly what scares her. Rumors can become confirmed fact, and the new scar on Jamie’s hand will look like child’s play.
And what does Jamie think about Lily’s inability to keep her hands off of her?
Jamie grins crookedly at her over breakfast, and Lily almost breaks.
So, it’s her only choice. She has to end this while her heart will be the one that’s permanently broken.
She lets herself watch for a second from the edge of the room. Jamie is laughing with her friends and running a hand through her hair in that maddeningly charming way. Anyone could fall in love with her bravery, her humor, her.
For just a little while, Lily got to be that anyone.
Relying on a small dose of courage, Lily pulls Jamie aside with nothing more than a tap on her shoulder when she passes. Almost instantly, she drops the essay she’s pretending to work on and follows Lily out of the portrait hole.
Then, it’s all happening too fast because they’re in a secluded alcove that has seen far more pleasant times between them.
Jamie tries to kiss her neck, but Lily holds her hands up.
The other girl’s brow knits, and her hand rests on Lily’s hip. “All right, Evans?”
Lily forces it out before she loses her nerve.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Jamie’s face immediately falls. “What?”
“This.” She gestures between them and feels Jamie’s grip on her hip tighten. “I can’t… We can’t do this - us - anymore.” Lily makes herself hold her gaze, even though she can swear that she hears her own heart breaking in her chest.
She has to do it now. Waiting will only make it worse. Waiting is the cowardly option. Waiting will hurt her more.
“You’re breaking up with me?” Jamie’s voice sounds the way Lily would never describe her - weak.
Lily nods. “It’s better for both of us if -”
“I don’t care about any of that nonsense.” The temporary weakness in Jamie’s tone is replaced with something more common. Anger. “We’re happy. You’re happy. I know you are, Lily, so you don’t mean that.”
“I - I do mean it,” she answers quickly, unable to hide the waver in her voice.
“No, there’s some…” Jamie’s hand moves to her shoulder, urgency written across her entire body. “What did they say to you?”
“Nothing,” Lily says. “No one said anything.” Her voice already has an edge of hoarseness from swallowing back tears. This is the lie she’s practiced until she can almost fool herself. “I just don’t love you anymore.”
As quickly as the anger came, it disappears. Jamie’s hand falls from her shoulder. Her glasses slide down her nose, but she doesn't notice. She doesn’t seem to notice anything when Lily’s worst words hit their target.
Lily wraps her arms around her middle to prevent herself from reaching out to comfort the person she wants to protect from all pain. She’s the cause of it now, she knows, but this is temporary. It’s saving Jamie from future pain, from worse pain. It’s what she has to do.
Jamie will marry a nice, pureblood man and have nice, pureblood children and make her nice, pureblood mother cry tears of joy. Jamie has a whole life in front of her, and there’s no room in it for mudbloods with dirt on their knees and in their blood.
Before Jamie can see her cry, Lily slips past her and back to the Gryffindor dormitory to hide under the covers of her lonely bed.
--
Keeping to herself is the easiest solution. Lily wakes up before everyone else, pulls the curtains closed around her bed before anyone comes upstairs, and specifically avoids the gazes of four particular Gryffindors.
When she walks into Potions class, though, she isn’t prepared. Her usual chair, right next to Jamie, is open. She’s halfway there before she realizes that it was where she was headed.
Lily looks up, meeting Jamie’s eyes for the first time since she broke everything.
They aren’t filled with the light that made her pulse dance. Instead, dark circles mirror the ones that reflect back to Lily in the mirror each morning. She can only stomach it for a few seconds before she casts her eyes down and then across the room, searching for anywhere else to go.
Slowly, Lily makes her way to the back of the classroom and drops her bag by a chair. It’s the only spot that isn’t next to a Slytherin or her heartbreak. She can handle Potions without a partner better than trying to pretend that everything is okay in front of people who don’t know why it isn’t.
Sirius turns around in his chair to face her, his eyes piercing. Lily remembers when that stare was used to protect Jamie and her. She swallows and looks down at her parchment.
Once she’s seated, Lily really notices the fumes wafting from the cauldron in the front of the room. They reach her, even in the back row.
Peanut butter cups. Fresh air.
A familiar mix of fresh cut grass and faint perfume.
But no, she forces her brain to insist, despite the obvious. It’s just a breeze that sent the scent her way from the girl a few rows ahead of her. Forget that they’re in a dungeon with no windows to allow in a stray wind. She’s so used to smelling it near her and on her sheets that it’s following her. It has to be.
Professor Slughorn’s handwriting on the board, however, doesn’t lie. Amortentia.
Lily freezes. When they were sneaking into each other’s beds every other night, the scent started to linger, even when Jamie was gone. Since breaking it off, she’s pressed her face against her pillow, trying to catch any leftover trace of the other person who used to be there.
She would know it anywhere.
The only movement she registers is a dark head of hair in front of her, twisting to see the back of the room. Lily refuses to look anywhere near her eyes. She stares determinedly ahead at the board, seeing nothing and not letting her eyes drift.
As soon as Slughorn dismisses them, Lily is out of the room like a shot. She’s still stuffing a book in her bag as she walks, determined to let nothing disrupt her path.
Sitting in class is hard enough, even without Jamie’s smell surrounding her. Attending one might have taken all of her strength for the day. Maybe it won’t matter if she misses the next one. If she can make it to the girls’ bathroom on the second floor, they’ll mistake her tears for Myrtle.
A hand grabs her arm and stops her. Lily’s book hits the floor.
They’re already away from the noise of dismissed students, since she set a furious pace, but someone pushes her into an empty hallway.
Her back is against the wall and that scent is everywhere. Lily can barely think when she is so close, her hands on Lily’s shoulders and body only inches from hers.
“I know what you smelled in there,” Jamie whispers, since they’re close enough to do so.
“I don’t - I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The Quidditch Pitch. Treacle tart. You. That’s what I smelled.”
Lily shakes her head, still determined to avoid Jamie’s eyes. If she doesn’t look up, if she can just slip away… It’s hard now, and it’s going to be hard for the rest of her life, but Jamie has a chance to move on, a chance to get out before the war takes her too.
“You lied,” Jamie says, voice louder this time. “I know you love me. Like I love you, Lily. I love you.”
“Don’t,” Lily answers, feeling heat behind her eyes that she can’t stop. She isn’t in the bathroom or behind her four poster curtains. She can’t let anyone see her break, and now she’s about to break in front of the person who she needs to hide from the most.
“Don’t what? Love you? It’s too late for that, Evans.”
Fingers under Lily’s chin make her look up. It’s a command, but the touch isn’t rough. It’s still gentle, even when power is radiating from Jamie in waves. Even when she is pressed between Jamie and a wall, she doesn’t feel unsafe. Even when she knows this is one of the most dangerous places to be, her body wants to find its place against Jamie.
Lily finally meets Jamie’s eyes and a sob catches in her throat. “Someone is going to see.”
“Let them.”
“Jamie, they’ll hurt you, they’ll -”
Their foreheads touch, and Lily wishes she could see a way forward. She wants to forget about the war and slip her fingers under Jamie’s shirt. She wants how they feel about each other, how they make each other feel, to be the only things that matter.
“Then we’ll fight. Together.”
Lily shakes her head. How doesn’t she understand? How can Lily ask her to give up safety just to be with someone, just to be with her? “I can’t do that to you. I can’t make you choose.”
Jamie shrugs, the trace of a familiar smile at the corner of her mouth. “Too late, Evans.”
“It’s not a joke, Potter.”
“I’m not joking. Not about this.”
The flicker of light is back in Jamie’s eyes. It’s the way she eyes at the goal posts at the end of the Quidditch Pitch when she formulates her next play. It’s the way she looks at Lily before tackling her on the bed and making her giggle.
It’s the way Jamie makes her feel. Like anything is possible and they’re capable of fighting the world because they have the nerve to try.
“You,” Jamie says, closing the distance between them to kiss her nose, “are worth fighting for. More than worth it.”
Before she can let fear drive her again, Lily tangles her fingers in Jamie’s permanently mussed hair and rises to meet her.