She had always kept her feelings quiet. Always. Not a sound escaped her lips, not a drop of ink flowed from her quill. Yet every night a single tear, pure, transparent, unique, fell from her vivid green eyes. He caught her once, alone in the bathroom, silent tears flowing down her perfect, pale skin. He kissed her cheeks, asked what was wrong. How could she tell him? How could she explain that it was not he she thought of? She remained silent. Always. And the longer she silenced her thoughts, the stronger the feeling grew.
That night she was more melancholic than usual. In a state of inner sadness she left him lying, contented and peaceful, and made her way to that place. The tree. It was where she sat; it was where she had spilled many tears. Always. Outside the manor, alone in a bare, leafless tree, she let the silent tears make their volatile path down her skin. Clad in white, she appeared as some kind of angel to the woman who watched her from her bedroom window.
As Narcissa Malfoy pressed a slender, white hand to the glass of her bedroom window, she felt a chill run down her spine. Her painted red lips parted as she exhaled her longing onto the glass in front of her. Careful not to wake her sleeping husband, she made her way down the stairs and opened the front door that would lead her to her. She cared not about the warmth of shoes and jackets, but the warmth of her hair, her eyes, her arms wrapped around her. She crossed the garden, silently walked to the base of the tree, watchful of her every movement. She had waited for this moment, always.
The sound of a twig breaking behind her caused Lily Potter to turn her tear-stained head. Narcissa froze. Her ice blonde hair caught the breeze, flowing in waves down her back. Her eyes met Lily's. Green on grey, understanding passed between them. Lily climbed down from the tree, graceful as a dove, and stood, encircled by the aura of her purity, still, silent in the chill of the midnight breeze.
Narcissa took a deep breath. And then she stepped forward, the deep blue of her dress collecting the dewdrops from the ground. It occurred to her later that they were mixed with Lily's tears. She moved closer. Eyes locked on the green of hers, she had reached the woman she had always loved, and placed a white hand on her back.
The touch sent shivers up Lily's spine, making her ache with the love she had suppressed all these years. The atmosphere changed. She moved closer to the woman who she had cried for, and closed her eyes.
And they kissed.
And they kept on kissing, crying, whispering. And then in her ear, Narcissa herd a voice. But it wasn't the voice of her lover, the shy and gentle Lily Potter. The whisper was filled with everything Narcissa hated. The whisper was that of Lucius Malfoy. "Bitch."And then he shot her. Her slender body crumpled to the ground as blood flowed from her temple like the tears had flown from Lily's eyes. She saw Lily's hand reaching for the silver weapon. She stared at the woman above her, so pure she seemed like an angel. Radiant.
Lily shook as Lucius raised his wand, behind her back the gun's cool metal pressed against her palm."I wanted a more conventional way for my wife to die. I wanted to see the pain on her face as she sees you die in my arms. I wanted you to watch the life disappear from behind her eyes. That bitch deserves everything she gets. " The silence rang for a second or two.
"Don't you dare call her a bitch."These were the final words Lucius Malfoy would ever hear. Uttered from a woman he both wanted and despised, his eyes softened as the bullet sliced the midnight air. Lily's hand still grasping the undeniably cold gun, she knelt down beside Narcissa.
"I love you."
These were the final words Lily Potter would hear from the woman she had so strongly loved and so secretly wanted. The grey eyes so filled with love faded. The slender fingers which had so tightly grasped hers loosened. And her perfect red lips parted once more, releasing all that she had hidden and she had ever felt. And Lily would remember. Always.
