Chapter Text
Ever since Sev’s disappearance, five years ago, Lily has only taken the short way to the water well. When Severus had been around, they’d taken the long way, cutting into the forest to admire the Wall, before being shooed away by the perimeter guardsmen.
The remote town of Dor is small and ordinary, with the exception of the Wall, which changes it from small and ordinary to rather mystical and dangerous…And, to the Crown, strategic.
The Wall has been there forever, as far as Lily knows; certainly for all of Lily’s life. No one is allowed within twenty feet of the wall, and there is a perimeter guard to enforce this. The Wall is a swirling, opaque barrier of smoky gray and purple, reaching up to the heavens with no end in sight. As children, she and Severus would climb trees as high as they could to try to see the top of the Wall, with no success. But sometimes, while perched precariously high up in a tree, Lily had sworn that she’d seen faces in the smoke.
Severus had been obsessed with the Wall– Lily had been too, if she is being honest. For all that it is deeply unnatural and unquestionably magical, there is something about it that draws her inexorably towards it. Even still, though she purposely avoids it. According to the townsfolk, the Wall is evil. Lily and Sev, however, had not been convinced of that.
But now Sev is gone, and Lily blames the Wall. No one has ever crossed the Wall and come back alive. And there have always been stories, that beasts from the other side of the wall could cross the barrier, set the guardsmen to sleep, and crawl into homes at night to steal away unsuspecting children.
Petunia had told her that’s what happened to Severus, that he’d been a nasty boy and had probably been eaten by a nasty beast. Lily had cried for three days after that, and Petunia had come as close to apologizing as Lily had ever seen. Often, Lily wonders what really happened. Had he truly been taken by some beast from behind the Wall? Or, one day, had the temptation become too great to resist? Had he found a way to slip past the guardsmen and walked right through the Wall?
Some days, it is a toss-up in Lily’s head between the two theories. Some days her conviction swings firmly in one direction or the other. And some days, Lily hates Sev for leaving her behind.
“LILY!” The screeching of Lily’s sister, Petunia, interrupts her thoughts.
“Coming, coming!” Lily calls back, hurriedly navigating her way down the hill to their cottage, mindful of the sloshing water in her pail.
Gradually, her sister comes into view, a tall, bony woman with her hands on her hips and a pinched expression on her face.
“Took you long enough!” Petunia snaps, snatching away the pail. “Why are you barefoot?” She demands, eyes trailing from Lily’s bare, dirty feet, to the muddy hem of her dress, to her loose, tangled red hair. “You look a mess! Go clean up; we have a guest!”
“Sorry,” Lily mumbles, trying to hide her feet behind her skirt.
She starts towards the front door, but Petunia hisses, “Not that way, he’ll see you like this, and what kind of impression is that to make? He’ll think you’re a beggar child!”
Lily rolls her eyes, but obediently tromps over towards the back entrance.
“Put your hair up,” Petunia commands from behind her, “And wear the blue dress!”
Lily frowns, wondering who exactly this guest is that Petunia wants her to wear her best dress for. Curiosity piqued, Lily hurriedly washes her face and changes into the requested blue dress. She runs her fingers through her hair, wincing as they tug on the tangles.
Above her wash basin is a small, flat disc of polished metal. Nothing quite so fancy as a real mirror, of course, but still, a luxury. It’d been a gift from her friend William, before he’d left for the capital to try to become a knight. Severus had never liked William– the tall, older, freckled farmhand who had lived down the street from Lily. But maybe that is because Lily had really liked William. Had thought she loved him, had thought maybe he could love her too. It was funny because after Severus disappeared, she’d spent nearly all her time with William; in a way, Sev had unwittingly brought them closer. William had even been her first kiss– she’d been fourteen and they’d both been slightly drunk after the solstice festival. Of course, then he’d explained to her why it could never be.
Lily looks at her warped reflection in the metal disc and twists her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. She is as presentable as she is going to get.
When Lily enters the main room, Petunia catches her eye immediately and stands, a tight smile on her pinched face. “And there’s my lovely sister now,” Petunia coos, crossing the room to stand behind Lily, bony fingers pressing down just a little too hard down on Lily’s shoulders. “Best behavior,” Petunia hisses, for Lily’s ears only, and gives her a none-to-gentle shove into the room.
“Oho!” Next to Petunia’s husband Vernon sits a portly, balding man, dressed smartly but sweating rather profusely. He turns to stare openly at Lily, and she recognizes him as the man who owns the butchery Vernon works at.
“Master Grunnings,” Lily greets, idly wondering why a visit from Vernon’s boss necessitates her blue dress.
“She remembers me!” Grunnings crows, delighted. He smiles at Lily with his mouth slightly open, looking her up and down. “She has grown quite pretty indeed, Vernon!” Grunnings declares.
Lily makes a face that Grunnings and Vernon miss completely, but Petunia catches her eye again from where she is resettling into her seat beside Vernon, and glares at her.
Vernon grunts noncommittally, preoccupied with taking a sip from his mug.
“How old are you, girl?” Grunnings asks.
“Seven and ten,” Lily answers neutrally, a sinking feeling beginning to form in the pit of her stomach.
“She’s getting older, Vernon, Pet,” Grunnings says, almost chidingly, as he strokes his large chin. “Have you found a match for her yet?”
“We haven’t quite tried yet,” Petunia answers simperingly, and Lily recognizes a set-up when she sees one. “She’d make a lovely housewife, though. She’s obedient and tidy and loves to cook. Why, she made that delicious stew you had earlier!”
Lily snorts. It's blatant falsehoods; the stew had probably been fresh and steaming when he’d been served and Lily has been out all morning. She hates cooking, and no one who has ever met her would describe her as obedient or tidy. Petunia gives her a furious look.
Grunnings merely chuckles, his beady eyes twinkling. “Her manners are a little coarse, but that can be trained out of her with a firm hand. It’s to be expected when marrying from a lower class, no offense to you, of course, Pet, Vernon. And she'll learn to make far richer fare than that old stew.”
Petunia’s face darkens, and Lily knows that offense has, in fact, been taken. Especially since Petunia is the one who made 'that old stew.' Hopefully they take enough offense that they'll send Grunnings packing…
Vernon doesn’t seem to have heard, though, as he had seized upon something Grunnings said. “A firm hand is exactly what she needs!” He declares eagerly, slapping his hand on his knee and sloshing some liquid out of his cup. “For too long, she’s been allowed to run around in the filth like a common peasant. God bless Pet for trying to make her into a respectable young lady!”
“Now what does she have in terms of dowry?” Grunnings sets down his cup, his eyes gleaming.
“I’m not getting married,” Lily interrupts.
Everyone turns to look at her. Her face feels hot, and horribly, she thinks she might cry.
“She jests,” Petunia says, glaring daggers at Lily and then turning a saccharine smile at Grunnings.
“It’s not a jest,” Lily says hotly. “I shall not be married.”
Then, impossibly, Grunnings begins to laugh. “Silly girl,” he says jovially. “Of course you will be married. You cannot possibly expect to live off your dear sister’s charity forever! Come now, be my bride. How would you like to be mistress of a house even larger and finer than your sister’s?”
“I will not marry you,” Lily says. There’s a roaring in her ears, and suddenly the cottage shakes with a nasty gale of wind, the window shutters rattling. The cup in Vernon’s fist crumples, and he looks down at it in shock.
“Lily,” Petunia’s voice is sharp with warning.
Lily looks at her, helpless, and sees something almost frightened in Petunia’s eyes. She takes a deep breath. The wind cools, and the air returns to stillness.
Grunnings looks around, frowning. “It’s that blasted Wall,” he grumbles, Vernon and Petunia hastening to agree. “We should just torch it and be done with it, I say.”
“Bloody unnatural thing,” Vernon says fervently.
“I will not marry you,” Lily repeats, interrupting the new topic. “I’m engaged to someone else.” It's a lie, and not even a good one, because now that both of her friends are gone, hardly anyone talks to her.
Grunnings frowns at her, then at Vernon and Petunia. “Engaged to another? There was no mention of that.”
“Because there is no such engagement,” Petunia cuts in smoothly. “Lily appears to be being difficult. Let me speak to her alone. Vernon, please tendon to our guest." Then she latches a surprisingly strong, bony grip around Lily’s upper arm and drags her to her room, all but throwing her in.
“What are you doing, you stupid girl?” She hisses once the door has snapped shut.
“What are you doing?” Lily returns, eyes blazing. “You thought you could just marry me off? And you thought I would just go along with it!?”
“Yes!” Petunia hisses, eyes like daggers. “Because it is a good match!”
“A good match!?” Lily splutters. “He’s thrice my age!”
“He is a good man,” Petunia says. “He is fair to Vernon. And he is rich.” She jabs a finger at Lily. “You, on the other hand, are penniless. You are difficult. You cannot cook. You are half a spinster already. And, most distressingly,” her voice lowers, “you are quite possibly a witch!”
“I’m not,” Lily hisses back, eyes flashing. “And I cannot marry him, rich or poor, because I am already engaged.”
“And who exactly is your betrothed?” Petunia throws up her hands. “That dreadful missing Snape boy?”
“Don’t talk about him like that,” Lily snaps. “And no, actually. It’s...William.”
Lily can tell it takes her sister a second to place the name, and then, “Billy the farmhand?” Petunia demands. “That deluded peasant boy that ran off to be a knight?”
“He’s not deluded, and he’s going to be a knight, and we’re going to be married.”
“That boy does not have a horseshoe to his name!” Petunia says hysterically. “I am trying to take care of you, Lily. You’ll want for nothing as Master Grunnings’ wife.”
There’s something wild in her sister’s eyes. Lily forces herself to take a deep breath. “I won’t do it,” she says.
Petunia’s eyes go calm. “Oh, you will, Lily,” she promises, smiling humorlessly.
She exits the room, and Lily hears the door latch behind her, locking her in. As if on cue, Lily's stomach grumbles, and she spares a moment to wish that she had sampled 'that old stew' she'd supposedly made before she'd antagonized Petunia.