Work Text:
May 30, 1976
“I don’t need help from filthy little mudbloods like her!”
The bucket had been teetering on the edge for the last five years. Lily still gasped when the truth washed over her.
How could she be so stupid? Marlene and Mary had been warning her for years about him. She hadn’t believed them. She had defended him. Now, their looks of pity only left the sting of shame. She didn’t deserve their pity.
She deserved this guilt. She had betrayed her friends, and her fellow muggleborns by defending him. The worst part? She didn’t even hate him. She couldn’t hate him. All she could recall was the little boy she had befriended just six years ago. The things he said- had it been any other kid at Hogwarts she would’ve hexed them, but she had never been able to see the worst in her friends. Lily couldn’t bear to see Severus as a bad person, despite the way his darkness seemed to fester and claw its way through his full being. Now it was too late.
What was wrong with her? She had been so awful to the girls about it, and for what? To be humiliated in front of all of her friends? To have to come home and tell her mum what happened?
To have to tell Petunia?
The blank parchment seemed to swallow her whole as she glared at it. The wet ink of ‘Dear Petunia,” glistened and glared harshly as she stared at it. They hadn’t spoken in months, years, if you didn’t count commands barked across rooms. The days when they had been joined at the hip seemed unimaginable now.
“Lily, babe…” Mary’s gentle voice pulled her out of her trance, “You need to come down for dinner. You can’t just be holed up in your sheets the rest of your life.”
“They’re all going to be there. All of them, Potter, Remus, Sirius.. Him. I can’t face them. I just-” Lily shifted as Marlene sat down beside her, “I just want Petunia.” Those last words came out in a whisper, the shame surrounding them apparent. She was sixteen, she wasn’t a baby who needed to run crying to her sister. Except she was.
“So you’re just never gonna go down for dinner again?” Marlene inquired, choosing to ignore the comment about Petunia at the sight of Lily’s frankly pathetic expression.
“Just- I’ll be down in a bit,” Mary raised her eyebrows, “I promise, I will. Just give me a few minutes to put myself together. I want to finish this letter.”
Stupidly, shamefully, Lily often felt sick with the aching need to rekindle her relationship with Petunia. Long nights when all she could think about was how much Petunia would love something, the jokes that only Petunia would understand, the urge to sit down with her sister, with her former best friend, and tell her everything, and find out everything in turn.
On other days Lily was blinded with rage. How could Petunia abandon her like this? How could she leave her little sister to fend for herself? How could she forget about all the plans they made?
Right now all Lily could feel was hurt.
Lily just wanted to run crying to her, whether or not it was seen as cowardly. Marlene and Mary were great, but the Petunia Lily had once known would’ve let her mope. She would’ve wrapped her in the hugs only her lanky arms could manage, and attempted to squeeze all the air out of her lungs. She would’ve claimed that if Lily can’t breathe, then she can’t cry. It always only made her cry more, but it was always so safe with her.
With a shaky breath, she stood up and splashed some water on her face. The cool water grounded her. She picked up the quill and added a few strokes, before carefully folding it up and deciding to ask Remus’ mum to mail it the muggle way. She quickly braided her hair, its natural curls having been neglected for the last few days, and headed down to the great hall.
—-----
September 14, 1978
The red spell sizzled as it zipped passed, an inch from hitting her skull. Her braid whipped back and forth as she searched for an escape. Around the corner James was struggling. He had always had amazing reflexes, but he had never had the heart for true combat, always opting for the less harmful spells. Usually, Lily found it endearing, now she found it terrifying.
She managed to land a powerful stunner on the cloaked figure she was fighting, just in time to hear a strangled shout from James. She rushed towards the corner, bracing herself for what she might see.
It was only her second mission for the Order, and her first one with James. She thought back to the engagement ring she had left on her nightstand, too scared she would lose it in a fight. She wasn’t going to let anyone take James away from her. As she rounded the corner she saw an unconscious James with a Death Eater standing over him.
In the months and years following she would be asked to describe the events that followed. She would never be able to, her story changing every time. It was a blur, her mind went into overdrive. She was terrified, firing off every spell she could think of. Occasionally she would spare a second to glance down at James, as if he would disappear if she looked away long enough. He probably would disappear if she looked away long enough. Only one fact emerged true within every iteration of the story: the cloaked figure’s arm got nicked by her spell.
“Fuck!”
She knew that voice.
That voice haunted her dreams. That voice was her childhood embodied.
Oh.
He joined the Death Eaters.
—-----
Hours, days, months, years later, Lily tried and failed to process his involvement in the war. She never did get the chance to understand, her death a mere three years later would put a premature obstruction to her search for closure.
—-----
Sometime, somewhere, a letter was read twice.
Dear Petunia, May 30, 1976
I miss you. Please talk to me this summer.
-Lily
The first time it was read, a sixteen year old girl with neat long black hair scoffed at the thought, before stashing it beneath her bed to be forgotten.
The second time it was read, a ten year old boy with unruly black hair and wire rimmed glasses muffled his cries into the sleeve of his too-big shirt.