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Letting herself fall into the cushy loveseat, Lily looked around the small studio flat in awe. Mary had just moved into her new place the week prior and yet the walls were covered with art and photographs – framed, not simply spellotaped to the wall like they had done in their dormitory at school. Not everything matched per se, but it all somehow worked to create a cohesive homey feel. Her plants were thriving, her bed was made, there were no dishes in the sink, and there was no clutter.
Where is all her stuff? Lily thought to herself.
“Mary, this place is amazing! I love it,” Lily said, still taking in all the details – the trinkets on Mary’s mostly bookless bookshelf all representing memories or gifts from friends.
“Aw, thank you Lils,” Mary replied, moving about as she looked for a vase for the flowers Lily had brought her.
Mary had just been through a messy break up – so messy that it had necessitated some threats from the boys (although Lily thought a warning from just Remus would’ve done the trick with his scars and height). Ever since Lily was young her love language had been flowers – it was how she had discovered she was a witch after all. Today she had brought her friend pink and white tulips, representing care and peace, respectively. Lily had wanted to show Mary that she didn’t have to be in a relationship to be loved. She felt a little guilty pushing the sentiment given how obviously happy and gross her and James were. Just the thought of him made her have to bite down on a school girl, giddy grin.
“I don’t know how you did it honestly,” Lily said wistfully. She tried to tame the envy rising in her. Lily had never, and probably would never, live on her own. And even if she had or did, she didn’t think it would look like this. She wasn’t sure if she would like it as much as the idea of it.
It wasn’t that Lily was unhappy with her current situation. She was about as happy as anyone could be given the political context they were living in. But James’ parents had both just passed from dragon pox. He was still in mourning and now they’ve just received the news that they were expecting. Lily was still getting used to the idea, they both were, so they had decided to keep it between them for a while longer. With this shock, the sudden passing of Euphemia and Fleamont, Lily’s estrangement from her own family, and the Order of the Phoenix business – the flat that James and Lily had been living in for nearly a year and a half was still barely decorated.
It wasn’t like they never had a free day, but every time one came around they both ended up using it for some much needed rest. Even if Lily could find the motivation to finally decorate, she knew it would never look half as good as Mary’s new place. James could maybe, but it would be a while before he would be ready to throw himself into a creative project like that.
“Seriously, I don’t know why the decorative gene skipped over me, but –”
“Okay, but,” Mary cut her off, “it’s only fair that I got ‘the decorative gene’ since I didn’t get ‘the smart gene.’” She waved her hand, implying that the reverse was true for Lily.
“That’s not true!” Lily said, emphatically. Mary had never been as academically inclined as her friend, but she was by no means unintelligent. Mary gave her a look, raising her eyebrows in good-natured doubt. “You’re just smart in a different way,” Lily offered.
Mary scoffed and left Lily’s view for a moment, heading into the small kitchen to fill the green glass vase with water. “You know,” she said as she re-entered the room with the vase and flowers, “I wouldn’t want to have your smarts anyways.” And if it was anyone else Lily might have felt defensive, but it was Mary. She appeared deep in thought, the revelation having come to her as they spoke. Lily wondered if she was trying to relieve her of what Mary might have viewed as the burden of reassurance.
Kneeling down in front of the coffee table, Mary began arranging the flowers. “I would hate having that much going on in my brain all the time,” Mary glanced up at her friend.
Oh , Lily thought.
That hadn’t been the sentiment Lily was expecting and it hit her suddenly like catching a surprising glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a window as you walk by. She made a sound of understanding to keep the conversation going.
“It seems like, I don’t know – a lot. Especially as a woman,” Mary gaped at the thought. “When you’re a woman and you’re that smart, there must be so much pressure to do something with it. Something big and… important or it’s like wasted potential.” She shook her head to herself, at the world, at the tulips that weren’t quite all fitting in the thin necked vase.
“Yeah,” Lily says, unsure of how else to respond. Mary’s words had stirred something in her, but her mind hadn’t quite caught up to identify it yet, so she watched as Mary got up to retrieve a second vase.
It was true. Ever since Lily had been just a child people always told her how brilliant she was. She carried all of their expectations of greatness on her shoulders every day. For the first time in her life, someone was acknowledging Lily’s intelligence for the burden it often felt like, rather than the gift people insisted it was. In Lily’s opinion, that made Mary a lot smarter than most. For a moment Lily allowed herself to wish that she wasn’t so smart, that she didn’t have the pressure of a million thoughts whirring through her brain at all time because maybe it would all be just a little bit easier if she wasn’t doing it with those silent expectations of greatness peaking over her shoulder.
Would her professors and friends view her as wasted potential now that she was going to be a mother at 20 years old? It hadn’t been in her plan to have a child so soon and despite knowing a woman is not limited to her status as a mom, she also knew how much harder a career was once you were one.
“You could be the Minister of Magic one day!” Many a professor had said those words to her over the years.
“You truly are the brightest witch of the age, aren’t you?” Remus had once said, shaking his head in awe as Lily had perfected liquid death on the first go.
It wasn’t like her life was over because she was having a baby. Plenty of mothers go on to achieve great things. But in a way Lily had a sinking feeling that would not be her case. Once everyone knew about the baby, she would always be known as just their mother.
Mary changed the subject, babbling on about a new annoying co-worker and Lily attempted to content herself with the hope that maybe her child would be more like James and Mary – not unintelligent by any means, but unburdened by such expectations of greatness.
Harry was looking down at his mother’s moving picture as Professor Slughorn chattered on about her. He didn’t necessarily enjoy spending time with the man, but he promised Dumbledore he would get close to him this term to discover the secret he had told Tom Riddle all those years ago. Plus it was one of the few opportunities in his life that Harry was being offered more information about his mother. Professor Lupin had share a bit and Sirius had told him about his father, but Harry would always crave more.
“Quite impressive for a muggleborn! Brightest witch of her age, truly! Not unlike your friend – erm, Miss – Miss…”
“Granger,” Harry supplied easily. It wasn’t the first time Hermione had been compared to his mother for their intelligence and blood status. They were also both known for their kindness, which Harry tried to emulate in his life. He wished he had more than just his mother’s eyes sometimes, but it was difficult to find time for studying between Quidditch practice and – well, fighting Voldemort every year.
“Ah, yes, yes Miss Granger,” Slughorn ambled over to join Harry where he stood staring down at the photo of his mother in attendance of one of Professor Slughorn’s notorious Slug Club dinners. She held a grin and a twinkle in her eye. She appeared confident and a bit amused, possibly by a joke told just before the picture had been taken. Or maybe Slughorn had said something stupid (likely) and his mother was attempting (and failing) to hide her amusement. Harry often came up with little stories about his parents like this when he got to see new pictures of them.
“Yes, a bit more charming than Miss Granger, though.” Harry shot a look at Slughorn, helpless in his instinctual protection of his friend. “Oh, I mean no offense of course! Miss Granger is a fine young witch, but– I just mean– well, Lily, she was… she was destined for greatness it seemed. We all thought she would be Minister of Magic one day, or the next Headmaster of Hogwarts at the very least. So, you see, we were all quite surprised when her and Potter married and had you so soon after leaving school. Not that I disapproved of the match, and of course the– the entire world is better off with you in it, Mr. Potter, but I guess I just expected… something else for Lily.” Slughorn distractedly made his way to the other side of the room as he talked, apparently in search of something mixed into a pile of students’ homework parchments.“Poor Lily. If only she had had more time. It’s a shame really, such wasted potential.”