Title: Substance
Author: Gremlin15
Summary: It was because they had nothing that they could hold on to everything. Lily/Lucius firendship?
-- Substance --
The used to lay together under the Whomping Willow late at night so no one else could see them. Scarlet strands tangled with cotton white locks and heads touching-but barely. She would hum some lullaby her muggle mother used to sing to her and he would listen with a smile playing on his face. She liked to think that she was the only girl in the world to ever see him smile, he liked to pretend she was wrong.
They would lay there like that for hours, and sometimes they would talk, but most times they wouldn't. There wasn't a need for words between the two, not really. If she showed up crying he would tell her crude jokes until she smiled. If he walked over cursing everything under the sun she would laugh at him and tell him to stop "being so Goddamned cynical, Lucius, it's hard enough in this world to be optimistic without you bringing reality into the picture."
If they were both very happy, then they would talk. They would talk about his upcoming wedding and her infatuation with Severus Snape that "better not last, Lily, because he's no good for you." Not that he knew anything about being good, he just didn't think Severus, or anyone for that matter, was good enough for his Lily. They would talk about the Dark Lord-"Voldemort, Lucius"-but only in an abstract sort of way so ideals weren't tested and trust wasn't destroyed.
They weren't together, not really, not in the holding-hands and kissing and goo-goo-eyes sort of way. Because he was so, honestly, above that and she couldn't be bothered to do such mundane things. There was no point in starting a relationship, anyway, because he was getting married even though he was only-already-seventeen and it was so, blatantly, obvious that she belonged with Potter that neither of them would admit it.
But sometimes he would say something and it would make her blush. Sometimes, when she went to kiss his cheek, he would turn his head just enough so her lips brushed his. Sometimes, though rarely, he would tell her that he loved her and dance with her under the stars. But that only happened when he was drunk or she received a letter from Petunia. Their whole relationship was built around sometimes and maybes and barely-theres. There was no substance, no place to find your footing, nothing to hold on to.
But that was why it lasted, through everything. That was why they still wrote each other every week, even after he became a Death Eater, even after she joined the Order. Because there was never anything really there. There was no incriminating evidence, no diamonds, no love letters. There was no bonding of the hearts. Nothing solid existed between the two of them and so they didn't feel guilty about continuing their non-existent relationship.
You can't feel guilty about something that never existed.
But you can't let go of it either.