The Two Lily Potters
Lily's portrait was nailed to the wall in the foyer right next to her grandmother's, and they were two Lilys and two redheads and two Potters, but they were by no means the same.
Because one had been an Evans once, and she'd had one Great Love that ended in a flash of green and another Great Love that died before it was even born, and she'd passed away long before she'd grown old.
The other was Lily Luna, who was born a Potter and died a Potter, and she'd gone through about a thousand loves but not one of them was Great. Her face was wrinkled, her eyes green and clouded from age, and at least once a day she complained that the portrait-maker should have made her look more youthful. Because even though Lily Evans Potter was older, Lily Luna Potter was the one who looked like a grandmother.
For hundreds of years they hung on the wall of that house in Godric's Hollow, and every few years a new family member died and a new portrait was mounted on the wall. Lily Luna sometimes strolled between frames to visit her relatives. She was hung closest to her siblings, and then next-closest to her parents, and then on the far side of the wall were her cousins and aunts and uncles, and the nieces and nephews preceded by so many "great"s that she'd lost track generations ago.
But she never visited the other Lily. She couldn't. Because Other Lily wasn't that kind of portrait.
No, Other Lily was a Muggle portrait, one that had been painted before she'd been sent off to Hogwarts. She always sat in the same position within her silver-lined frame, wearing the same subtle smile. She didn't speak. She didn't move. She wasn't alive. She wasn't real.
"Why doesn't she move, Daddy?" Lily Luna had asked when she was very small.
"She's busy in the afterlife," he'd said, scooping her up in his arms. "She's off playing with her husband, and their friends Sirius and Remus."
"Who're they?"
"Sirius is your granddad's best friend. And Remus is Teddy's daddy."
"And Other Lily is playing with them?"
He nodded. "Other Lily loves them."
"Then I love them, too," Lily said, and her father smiled and pressed a kiss into her cheek.
"'To be or not to be,'" quoted James one day when Lily was visiting his portrait. James, too, had a portrait who shared his name, but Other James wasn't frozen the way Other Lily was. Other James was always coming over to chat with his grandson.
(Lily resented both of them for it.)
"What's that, Shakespeare?" Lily asked.
"Yes, it is!" called cousin Molly from the other side of the wall (and Other Molly was there, too, nodding in agreement, and Lily wanted to throw something at both of them).
James grinned. "Don't make that face, Lils," he said. "Try to keep your temper in check."
Lily punched him in the arm. "So, 'To be or not to be?'" she prompted.
"Exactly." He folded his hands across his lap. "You're upset about Grandma Lily. Because she doesn't move. But don't you ever get tired of existing? Aren't you sick of waking up, day after day for hundreds and hundreds of years, and doing nothing but wandering around the same foyer?"
"I suppose."
"So there's the question. To be or not to be? Do you hate Other Lily because she isn't alive like you? Or do you envy her for exactly the same reason?"
Lily Luna sat in the chair opposite Other Lily's portrait and stared at it. "Move," she commanded.
The portrait didn't.
"Come on," Lily begged. "Just move."
Nothing.
"If you never move, you're never going to see the world. You'll never get to visit any other places. Not even the beautiful ones, the ones everyone should see. You'll just stay here. Bored."
But even the threat of boredom didn't scare the portrait into flinching.
Lily began to tap at the portrait with her fingernails. "Why aren't you alive?"
"Lily, darling," her mother said, pulling her away from the portrait. "Don't do that."
"Why's she being so stubborn, Mummy? Why won't she move?"
Her mother looked at Other Lily and sighed. "Some people just don't."
It was a thousand years to the day after Lily Luna's portrait went up that the house at Godric's Hollow burned down.
Only twelve of the portraits survived.
One was her father's, and one was her mother's, and one was her Uncle Ron's, and the rest were descendants she'd never quite paid attention to.
But Lily's portrait was destroyed, and so was Other Lily's, and when people came later to assess the damage, all they found of them were two empty silver-lined frames.
Lily watched the portrait carefully. "I know you can hear me," she whispered.
Other Lily said nothing.
"I'm going to meet you one day," she promised. "And we'll be friends. And you'll finally be alive."
And even though Mummy said she didn't move and Daddy said she couldn't move, Lily swore the portrait let one eyelid drop in a slow, deliberate wink.
[Hogwarts House Painting Competition: Lily Luna Potter; "To be or not to be," silver linings, a thousand years]
[Disney Characters Competition: Peter Pan - write about someone who doesn't grow up. Prompt: Nails]
[Duct Tape Challenge: Dragons - write about someone who is not what he/she appears to be]
[Oh The Thinks You Can Think Challenge: Sam I Am - write about someone stubborn]
[Interesting Words Challenge: Videnda - "what is to be observed"; the things that should be seen or visited]