Meds
Teddy Lupin smiled at his sleeping wife, Lily Luna, curled up underneath the quilt Molly I made for their wedding. He kissed her forehead and went downstairs to put the kettle on. It was just a normal day thank Merlin.
They worked at home, out of public view, she a spell experimenter in the attic converted into a cozy lab, he a contributor to a famous astronomy magazine, writing at the kitchen table and drawing star charts. Silence reined except for when Teddy got writers block and tore up his draft growling or a volatile spell went off upstairs, spewing grey dust from the ceiling.
Both were marked by their careers: Lily had various scars and burns from projects and from her youth. Lupin's long, thin hands he was used to wearing had a rainbow of ink that would never wash away and a penchant for climbing high places in his usually turquoise head. Twice he broke his left wrist from falling off the tiled room; once during an ice storm, the other was when Lily pushed him.
The medication she was on was a mix of Healer potions and Muggle pills. A rainbow of capsules and drinks to flow down her throat to make her stable, without the voices seducing her to harm her amber eyed writer, nor the anxiety, the tremors that wracked her body. With her elixir from bottles, bought legally, Lily would not feel the need to self-medicate: drink enough firewhiskey that would knock out Uncle Ron, or slip a razor beneath her skin and draw out the poison, or not eat because of the toxins. The Moon, as some of her Slytherin housemates called her when she spaced out, would return to the Dragon Rider of her youth; the Lily that Teddy had fell in love with.
Oh his dear fantastic Lily Luna Lupin. He loved every bit of her from the different shades of fire in her hair and hazel eyes to narrow feet, small hands and breasts. The triple L alliteration of her name and the small smile that would grace her elven face when she had a plan, which usually involved fireworks or running through town, or them going to bed (or the kitchen table or the counter, they weren't picky). Her penchant for Muggle clothes from when grunge ruled the airwaves: her ripped jeans, combat boots, oversized flannel shirts that threatened to swallow her whole.
Summer break before her final year of Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny were concerned about their only daughter: separating from her friends, becoming interested in different music, the cuts on her arms. "It's my armor," she had said, grinning up at Teddy. Lily's expression darkened, a shadow passed across her face. "From the fake girls who just want to be friends with me because of my fucking father. The Boy Who Grew up to run the Auror department." Small fists beat the scarred kitchen table. Goosebumps covered her arms as her hands turned into claws, tears pouring from her eyes, sobs spilling out of her greenandbrownandblue eyes. She was choking on her grief, unable to speak.
She was so skinny, Teddy thought. The thrift store clothes made her vulnerable, delicate.
Sunlight poured in through the wide kitchen windows, warming up the room, leaving dust upon the air. Teddy wondered if one day if he could observe the galaxies hidden in the tiny ships, floating across empty space. If the Muggles could reach the Moon and the stars, than why not Wizards explore the tiny magical mysteries of everyday life?
The stairs creaked as her bare feet skipped down the stairs.
"Morning sweetie," Teddy says, not looking up from the Daily Prophet.
A crack on the head and his world dissolves. The Metamorphmaguscomes to the howling, as the teakettle boils over, unattended, deafening like the Hogwarts Express pulling into the station, breaks squealing. The back of his head his wet with blood, mixing with the never stilling colors. Groaning, he peels open his eyes and blinks. He's been tied to the wooden chair, hands bound behind his back and legs to legs with rope.
Lily stands over him, Beater Bat lying in front of her with the gleam of madness in her supernova eyes. Red curls litter the floor like so many dead leaves; her hair is hacked off from either the steak knife in her right hand or by a Severing Charm; its ragged, floppy and spikey in the back but scalped on a side.
"Oh Lils. Did you forget to take your meds," The now gray haired man whispers.
"That woman says that you're leaving me!" she shrieks, stomping her foot. Inwardly, Teddy curses Victorie for threatening his wife, years ago, pushing her towards Lily's second mental breakdown. "I won't have it. You're mine, not hers. But you keep running, so I have to punish you." The steely knife is pointed at him. Her breath is short and raspy, she's taken up smoking again, and he didn't notice?
"No Lily, you know that I love you. Please, just untie me and I'll give you a Sleeping Draught and we can sleep the day away, you and I." Shaking devourers her arm, the knife drops to the floor, as she shakes her head, cheeks a blotchy red, eyes a watery green.
"Ted you don't understand. That woman will always come between us!" Her gaze softens and she silently crosses the space between them, standing behind her husband and pulls his dull hair back, wand at his throat. A grunt of pain mixed with pleasure escapes his lips. If only this was under a different situation, he reflects, we could have a good time. "If we die, we will be together forever. Please Ted."
"No," he gasps. "Not today Lils. Not until we're old and ready." She tugs at his hair harder, nails digging into the sore, bloody spot. Agony. Vision swims and he thinks no I mustn't pass out, what'll she do if I'm unconscious. Gritting his teeth, biting into his bottom lip until the pressure subsides, a flash of white light and Lily Luna's on the scuffed linoleum floor, unconscious. Her pale ash wand falls out of her chipped black nails. Standing up, the ropes snapped, Teddy rushes to his wife, looking so broken on the kitchen floor, searching for signs of damage. Wandless magic was difficult, especially for a man in his thirties. Unexpected and only used subconsciously, when the wizard was in emotional turmoil.
A hedgehog Patronus is sent to the Potters at Number 12 Grimmauld Place with a one worded message, more of a holophrase. "Lily," it whispered, full of grief and terror. And that was all that was needed for Ginny to drop her glass of milk, run to her Harry still in bed. The couple Apperated into the tan coloured kitchen still in their bedclothes, worried for their only daughter and son in all but flesh, blood, and name. Teddy was curled up next to Lily, looking like they were once again engaged and so in love or the countless nights before Lily's Slytherin years laying on the roof and counted the stars until Lily fell asleep, curled up on Teddy's chest.
A/N: Oh dear, what have I just written? I apologize greatly for any misspellings or general weirdness–I am American and I can't spell on a good day, much less a series that has been in my life since childhood. *sigh*
I was going to write in an ending at St. Mungo's with the family and an explanation of Lily's illness. But I didn't because it didn't match the rest of the fic and I'm not a doctor or a psychologist. Oh well.
Personally, I think Lily would have a tough childhood, with big family pressures and a famous dad. Add in a mental illness (say bipolar or auditory schizophrenia) from Lily Evans-Potter's Muggle family tree, and we'll have a destructive, but brilliant girl, who marries her favorite person in the whole world that saw her through thick and thin. Hopefully I conveyed all that, but if I didn't, I'm so sorry.
The song that Teddy quotes and the title is Meds by Placebo. Listen to it! I also listened to Every you and every me, Running Up That Hill, and The Never Ending Why also by Placebo. I must credit all the delightful Teddy/Lily Luna writers that inspired me to scribble out this monstrous oneshot. Read them: they're much better!
Yours,
Nierx