So this was a plot bunny that refused to leave me alone. There's another segment as well as the potential for an epilogue. I'm pretty pleased with the way it came out! I hope that you all enjoy!
ABD
Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognize from the lovely JK Rowling.
In all of his eleven years the one thing Simon Avery was known for getting into trouble over was his insatiable curiosity. Which he thought was a good thing, thanks so much, considering Avery's weren't generally known for much. The House of Avery held its place in the Sacred Twenty-eight. They were every bit as old and established as the House of Malfoy with both Houses establishing their foothold in Britain just after the Battle of Hastings. The Avery's, however, never quite reached the level of notoriety that their peers obtained. Which, truthfully, suited them quite well. To be known for nothing means to be expected of nothing and to have nothing expected that everything you do exceeds expectations.
But Simon was quite aware of his reputation among the other Sacred Twenty-eight families for his unstinting curiosity. He'd lost count of the scolding and punishments he had received after asking questions that ought not be asked at various social functions. His questions were generally answered with some variation of "figure it out, yourself". Which also developed his reputation for being tenacious. Inquisitiveness, tenacity and curiosity made for quite the interesting combination when bundled into the small body of an eleven year old wizard.
It was his tenacity that urged his parents and elder twin sisters onto the platform a full hour before the Express was set to depart for Hogwarts on the first of September 1971.
Suffice to say at the seventh year girls were not quite as enthused. He'd never understand why girls needed so much time to prepare. Prepare for what?
It was with a warm albeit perfunctory farewell between parents and children. As soon as the parents were out of sight Catherine and Charlotte disappeared as well, though he assumed they had gone ahead onto the train.
Simon rocked back onto his heels, chewing idly on his lower lip and stared, for a moment, at the beautiful, scarlet monstrosity that was the Hogwarts Express. He'd not admit it aloud, not to anyone, but he felt a little intimidated just then, standing there alone on the platform.
Intimidated but not deterred.
Feeling the usual tug of curiosity, the young wizard squared his shoulders and gave his trunk a firm tug as he boarded the train. Being as they had arrived so very early it was quite easy to find an unoccupied compartment to settle his belongings. Standing in the center of the compartment, he turned in a slow, cursory circle to study the small compartment that he would be inhabiting for the duration of his trip to Hogwarts.
Settling into one of the benches Simon noted idly that he was quite short. His feet couldn't even graze the floor when he sat back into his seat. He wasn't sure what to make of his observation but he had to admit that he wasn't exactly pleased. The young wizard's musings were interrupted, thankfully he thought, by a pair of children that could only be fellow first years, as small as they were. The first was a proud yet gangly boy with an unusually large nose and poorly shorn, inky black hair. Simon thought he looked quite solemn even with a smile directed at his smaller companion. His clothes were obviously well worn without the benefit of also being well cared for. The boy himself looked equally as worn Simon thought.
Simon shifted his curious attention to the second half of the pair and cocked his head in interest. Where the boy was solemn and worn the exceedingly tiny witch seemed to exude pep and warmth. The little witch had the obvious look of care that her friend lacked.
Between her bold red and green and his sallow darkness, Simon felt rather unremarkable, if he were honest. He was neatly groomed and polished as was expected. But it was the mark of an Avery to be known for nothing, looks to be included. Plain, nearly monochromatic sandy brown hair and grey-blue eyes that were quite bland compared to the silvery greys of the Blacks or the icy grey of the Malfoys. Or even this witch's emerald green or the wizard's brown-but-nearly-black. Yes, for all the pomp and circumstance of being Sacred Twenty-eight, Simon certainly felt unremarkable.
It was then that the pair realized that they weren't alone in the compartment and met Simon's attentions. She smiled widely in greeting while the boy, he noticed, instinctively shifted protectively towards the girl.
Now Simon would never claim himself to be an expert at social cues or on the intricacies of social interactions but it was obvious to even his untrained attention that the other young wizard came from a home with very little of anything pleasant. It was also so very obvious that he guarded his friendship with the little witch jealously.
Simon was curious. He shifted his gaze from the wizard and back to the witch. What about her was so grand that her friend felt she needed guarding so desperately? And what was so intimidating about a short and scrawny Avery that required guarding against?
The girl's smile was warm and welcoming. As though he had been in her acquaintance for more than a mere matter of minutes. As though she was so very happy to see him even though they'd yet to even be introduced. What a strange little creature, she was. Even still, Simon found that he couldn't quite resist the urge to return the gesture with a tentative, inquisitive smile of his own.
"I'm Lily and this is my friend, Severus."
"I'm Simon. Simon Avery," he returned, formally.
And so, introductions were had among the three and conversation flowed. It wasn't until the compartment jerked suddenly as the train began to depart the station that the newly formed acquaintance strained.
"I'm so very happy to be going to Hogwarts," Lily beamed with excitement. "It was a little bit of a shock for my parents when Professor McGonagall showed up at our doorstep over the summer. I already knew though. Sev figured it out months ago."
Simon was silent for a moment, studying the petite little witch. She didn't seem to notice but her friend was glaring in response to his silence. He must be at least half if he's had some training on the Families. The House of Avery, though Pure, valued the Magic of a witch or wizard over their blood. They valued tradition and the Rights of Magic. Magic doesn't make mistakes. New Magicals had magic but they lacked the traditional sense. The respect. But could it be taught? Could she be taught?
"Magic is quite wonderful. I can't imagine what it would be like to have it as such a revelation," Simon said, thoughtfully. "Exciting and daunting, I'd imagine."
Once again, his musings were interrupted. He groaned inwardly as the round, snide face of Darian Mulciber popped unwelcome into the compartment.
"Simon, mate, what are you doing in here?" The boy asked snootily, glancing down his nose at the compartment's other occupants. "It's filthy. Surely you'd rather come sit with the crowd."
Simon briefly took in Lily's puzzled expression and Severus' furious one before glaring at the boy. The Avery's may have a slightly different stance on dogma than many of their peers but the Wizarding world is small. To socialize young children most pure families established standing play dates from birth until Hogwarts. Unfortunately for Simon, Darian was often his play date. The two rarely got on when out of parental oversight. Simon found Darian to be vulgar and uncouth while Darian regular complained about Simon's tenacity and penchant for getting lost in his quests for answers. What Simon very much abhorred, however, was the active opinion among Pureblood ideology that Magic made a mistake with New Magicals.
"I'm quite comfortable here, thanks. You're welcome to sit with. I was just going to discuss Houses with Lily and Severus. I'm sure you have input," Simon stated with forced idleness.
"Slytherin," Darian said simply. "That's the only one worth knowing."
"Yes, I can fully understand how knowledge, courage or hard work might discourage you from any of the others, Darian," Simon rolled his eyes, though he bit back a smile when he heard the muffled giggle escape the tiny witch sitting on the bench across from him.
"What House would you want, Simon?" Lily asked, a familiar hint of curiosity lacing her question.
"I'll inevitably go to Slytherin," Simon shrugged with acceptance. "With Old Families it's as much about family as it is personal traits, you see. Though Avery's do have quite a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, historically," he added, trailing off thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side. Truth be told he'd likely be much happier in either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. To only himself, he sincerely hoped for it but certainly wasn't naïve enough to count on it. "But Slytherin is most likely."
"I think I would like to be placed in Slytherin House," Severus admitted with a quiet thoughtfulness. As though the House of the Cunning Serpents was his life's aspirations.
Darian narrowed his eyes at the dark haired wizard, "What's your family name?"
"Snape," Severus clipped.
"Mudblood?" Darian said with a disgusted sneer. "Sorry, Muddy, but your kind doesn't do well in the House of Salazar Slytherin."
Simon watched Severus's eyes narrow in anger and, admittedly, he felt his own irritation blossoming inside his chest. Through gritted teeth the boy spat, "Half. My mother is a Prince."
"A Pure witch dirtied herself and you're the result? How...charming. I'm sure your ancestors are most pleased," the boy leered cruelly.
"I think it's time you return to your compartment, Darian," Simon warned evenly. He swore he called upon every ounce of his mother's training to keep face and voice level. Even still, he was quite sure his eyes had not listened and narrowed at his childhood playmate.
Darian glanced to his friend and to the two occupants. With a disgusted shudder the boy shrugged and left.
Simon met Severus's angry stare, avoiding Lily's confused curiosity for the moment. "Your mother warned you?"
Severus gave a brief nod in affirmation.
"What was he talking about? Severus? Simon?" Lily asked, impatiently. The boys exchanged resigned expressions before launching into the sad reality of Wizarding politics.
"The Avery's fall somewhere between the extremes of the Blacks and the Weasleys. The Weasley's have always been known Muggle Supporters. Not so much in supporting inclusiveness but in the protection of the Muggle's ignorance. They don't know about us, they needn't know about us. The Blacks are the very strict opposite. They view themselves and wizarding kind as superior. And superior to those who come from Muggles, as well."
Lily looked distinctly wounded by the discussion so far but pulled herself together long enough to ask her new friend a simple question, "And where does Simon Avery stand?"
"I don't believe that Magic makes mistakes. If you're hear on this train then you're Magical and you belong here," Simon said, solemnly. "Our blood only guarantees tradition and passage of knowledge. Our blood does not guarantee a future. It's New Blood that guarantees that."
The uncomfortable discussion lasted until the train pulled into the Hogsmeade station.
The excitement of the welcoming feast warmed all. In the end, Lily Evans was a Gryffindor while Severus, Simon, and Darian landed firmly into Slytherin.
As a Sacred Twenty-eight family, Simon made a point to put Severus firmly under his wing within the House that Pureblood dogma ran rampant. Friendship was rare among the cunning serpents but Simon would like to have thought he had the start of a solid one. Darian made quite a scene at a half-blood being placed into Slytherin. Simon felt somewhat certain that he was simply upset with the social dynamics.
Still though, he noticed that the dark haired boy guarded his friendship with the newly minted Gryffindor jealously. And he could start to understand why. There was a special warmth that grew inside of Simon when the witch was happy.
It was disconcerting, the hold she had over the two young wizards without even having to try.
Severus did his best to keep his Slytherin and Gryffindor friends separated.
It was some time in the middle of their third year that Simon started meeting Lily in secret, without Severus, to follow through with his initial assessment of teaching the witch the Foundations of Magic.
"History of Magic is different than the Foundation of Magic," He explained. "Merlin was a powerful and influential wizard but he didn't found Magic. Magic found and created Merlin. It's not a tool. A piece of equipment to pick up and put down as you see fit. It's the very essence of everything. The land, water, people, animals. Everything. It's the air you breathe, the food you eat, the ground you walk on. It's your heartbeat and it's in every cell of your body. Magic is the very basis of everything."
"Even Muggles?" She asked, curiously.
"You came from Muggles, did you not?" He asked, rhetorically. "And you are magical. So yes, even Muggles. Magic is the essence of everything."
Their sessions were cut short as often as not. Either due to attempting to avoid Severus' attention to their meetings or James Potter's growing obsession with the witch or because of Darian's hateful rhetoric. The pair had gotten into several heated debates over the validity of the Pureblood ideology. Simon didn't agree with superiority. He did agree that Muggles were quite a danger to Wizardkind. He also very firmly believed that Muggleborns were brought in very ignorant. Ignorance was something that Lily Evans took great affront to.
"You wouldn't move to another country without learn the language and culture. This is no different," he insisted.
By the beginning of their fifth year, Simon began to live for those debates. She was so very passionate when she felt that she was firmly in the right.
Passionate and so very lovely.
Simon had far too many dreams about those sparkling green eyes.
Books slammed down on the desk to his right in the old unused classroom they'd commandeered for their studies. Simon looked up warily at the sudden sound. He carefully leaned back into his chair and folded his hands onto the desktop in front of him, granting the—obviously furious—witch his full attention.
"What are they teaching you in those dungeons? Are you all capable of being such foul..such...such perverted buffoons?!" She all but growled, pacing like the angry lioness she was.
"I believe anyone is capable, Love." Simon countered, hoping to draw out details of what had the little witch so gloriously worked up, though he had an idea.
"Your friend! Mulciber," She spat the name as though it left a foul taste on her tongue. "It's bad enough that it's 'Mudblood' this and 'Filthy' that every time I come across him but what he tried on Mary today? Simon, he said that he was going to see the 'pure half' of her! You know as well as I do that he didn't mean anything remotely respectable. He doesn't say things like that to Severus and he's a halfblood! She was humiliated and quite frankly traumatized by that brute! And he's your friend! And Severus! He was right there, Simon! He stood there and let that foul creature hurt her without saying a word!"
Simon never much cared for Mary Macdonald any more than he really cared for Darian Mulciber, truth be told. Though his dislike for Macdonald had nothing to do with her parentage and everything to do with her being an obnoxious harpy. However, he'd heard Darian bragging about that curse. He had no idea where Darian had learned the curse but its intention was to be the closest a wizard could come to violating a witch without actually touching her. Disgusting.
He ran a hand over his face and through his hair before standing from the desk and carefully approaching the witch. He gently held onto her arms and squeezed comfortingly. "Darian is being handled. And he will not touch you, Lily. Neither physically nor magically."
"There's more to the equation than just me, Simon! Mulciber is known for being unable to keep his hands to himself. I'm just lucky enough to be filthy and beneath his notice.
"Lily, my love, please don't speak of yourself in such a way. I'm doing what I can," He sighed, dropping his hands to hers and lacing their fingers. "I know exactly what kind of wizard Darian is. But...there's things in motion. Things happening outside of Hogwarts. There's something big happening and I don't know that I can escape it. I can't focus on reigning Darian when I'm trying to protect myself and my family as well. Unfortunately, Severus finds himself in the same predicament."
"I've been following the news," she admitted quietly, anger draining from her tone, settling instead into resignation. "Please don't follow that man, Simon. He's not respecting Magic any more than I was at the start of first year. He's desecrating it."
Desecration of Magic. The very though made him shudder. It was, quite literally, the worst offense to Magic. And he was inevitably doomed to enrich the desecration. It made him ill to contemplate. "My father was school chums with him, back in the day. Sometimes want has very little to do with the decision. And not just for me. Like it or not, Lily, I will likely be following that man in the near future," He admitted. Carefully meeting her beautiful green eyes, he added, "No matter…No matter where my heart belongs." She froze for a moment, her expression somehow hardening and softening simultaneously.
The argument that followed over his future allegiance was inevitably explosive.
It was also utterly remarkable, he thought, as their lips met and hands ghosted over flesh.
Some months later Simon watched from the sidelines as Severus slipped up under pain of humiliation and utterly destroyed his friendship with the pretty witch. Simon couldn't say that he was surprised with the turn of events. He, unfortunately, felt the split between the pair was inevitable. He'd just hoped it hadn't happened so soon.
Or left his witch so defeated.
Simon found her in the unused classroom that evening and did what he could to console. He truly hated seeing those lovely green eyes so dim and bloodshot. Wrapping the witch in his arms, Simon swore to himself that he would do his absolute damnedest to never be the cause of this reaction from her. As they wound themselves around one another he voiced his promises and repeated his vow of love as many times as he could in the time that they were granted.
It was quite late, or early depending on the perspective, when the wizard returned to the Slytherin common room just long enough to drag a thoroughly depressive Severus Snape into a yet another classroom. He refused to console the other wizard. It just wasn't possible.
"What were you thinking?" He asked one of his few true friends. His eyes were narrowed, shoulders squared. His anger forced the eloquence and diction into his words and tone that he generally let lapse around the other wizard. Of all the words that could have been used that day, Severus had to use Mudblood. That foul term. He could have used something as mundane as 'stupid witch' and the poor woman wouldn't have been nearly as devastated. But no. He had to use that word.
"I didn't mean to! It just slipped. Potter and Black were so very pleased with themselves. Humiliating me in front of everyone! I didn't mean to." The dark haired wizard collapsed into himself.
"Severus," Simon sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. "She'll not forgive you. She always believed the absolute best in you, you know? You were always supposed to be this knight in battered armor. Better than the rest of us. Better than this. She'll not forgive this."
"And you would know?" Severus spat angrily. "You've done nothing but avoid her since third year! How do you know what she feels?"
Simon dismissed the twinge of guilt at lying to his friend, responding instead with, "Because Lily Evans is and has always been a very strong and loyal witch. For her loyalty to be repaid with that would be inexcusable. And from her first true friend? Unsalvageable."
The boys found themselves in a number of tussles over the following days. Generally, they followed the dark haired wizard's desperate attempts to apologize once he realized that his friendship with the witch was in dire jeopardy.
Simon didn't know whether to be relieved or sympathetic when Lily continually dismissed Severus's apologies. She deserved so much better than a friend who would allow such nasty gossip to be spoken behind her back with nary a word in objection. She deserved better than to have a friend who stood by and watched as his 'friends' called her that awful name.
She deserved better.
He wasn't sure if he qualified as better, but he certainly hoped that he was close to. Even having outgrown the prepubescent phase of idealism, Simon firmly believed that Magic didn't make mistakes. If his witch was at Hogwarts with him than she was Magical. Between her Magic and her she was as Pure as a witch could be as far as he was concerned. And she was his. At least for the time.
Fifth year faded on an idealized note and spring faded to summer and summer faded straight into September first of their sixth year.
Over the course of the year, Simon watched his friend slip further and further into Mulciber's shadow. Perhaps he should have tried harder to pull the wizard from his spiral. But he truly had no idea how. The wizard seemed quite happy with his lot, despite the gaping, witch shaped chasm in his heart. Perhaps that's why he delved so deeply into the Arts. If ever there was a mistress that could distract from the pain of the heart, the Dark Arts would be she. Simon could sympathize, somewhat.
That same year, as he watched his friend succumb to the call of the Dark Arts, Simon found himself falling further and closer into the beautiful redheaded witch that was gracious enough to allow him to claim her as his own. Simon found that he truly understood why Severus had guarded her so jealously that very first day on the train. She was utterly priceless.
He knew and she knew that their time was very likely limited. They knew there were things brewing outside the safety of the castle's stone walls. Things that could quite probably put them on opposing sides of what was bound to be a very costly war. That didn't stop them from feeling every little thing so very thoroughly in the way only a first love can.
There was letters home, periodically, each year. It was to be expected to and from the heir of the House. To learn that his father was reestablishing certain acquaintances from his own Hogwarts days was very disturbing to Simon. And to Lily, when he'd shared the news. The man promised such grandeur. He couldn't be surprised that certain families, his own included, would fall for the honeyed words. To bring back to Old Ways. The Old Traditions. Such words meant differently to each family, Simon knew.
To the Blacks and Lestranges, it meant superiority. To the Malfoys, it meant wealth. To some it meant notoriety. To other Houses it simply meant return to Right and Rituals. To the Avery's it would have meant returning to Magic. Simon was worldly enough to understand that this man spoke very pretty words. He didn't much believe that the end result would truly be any of the above.
Some men just want to watch the world burn.
Simon was sure his father's school chum was one such person. It always hurt his soul a little to read his father's letters and to read how much he was certain the wizard would return them to Magic. Return their society to the very foundations of their beings. Total Enlightenment. Simon would assuredly believe it when he saw it.
He shared each of the letters he received from home with his witch. Never could it be said that he attempted to sneak around. There were many discusses between the young couple over the current events of the outside world and their respective places in it. She knew what would likely be asked of him. He also made sure that she knew that he would avoid it if he could. That he wanted no part of the pretty words with no substance. No part of the man that fooled grown witches and wizards but couldn't escape being so obvious that school children could see through his propaganda.
Besides, what use did Simon have of a man that whispered promises of Blood Supremacy in the ears of many when he had the most delightful muggleborn witch that fitted so perfectly against his side? What use did he have for a wizard that made this exquisite witch feel as though she was less than? He believed now more than ever that Magic didn't make mistakes. It had brought him this wonderful creature, how could he believe otherwise?
The week before the summer holiday, the pair sat stashed in one of their classrooms. They had settled onto a transfigured sofa with Simon sitting against the arm of one side with Lily leaning comfortably against his chest, legs stretched out towards the opposite arm. His arm was draped over the back of the sofa, his fingers playing with a loose strand of hair. The couple had immersed themselves into their respective reading. Enjoying the comforting presence that the other offered.
Simon found himself distracted, his blue eyes lifting from his own book to watch her read in silence, he couldn't help but start twirling the soft strand of red around his finger.
Distraction, though, eventually went both ways as their respective books were settled onto the nearby table in favor of conducting studies into the body of their first loves.
He thought about that moment, though, the beautiful simplicity of just being comfortable in her presence, many times over the following months. The months where the darkness overtook him.
That summer was easily one that Simon wished he could Obliviate from his own mind.
June of 1977 saw him ill and angry. It saw his father yelling and Simon taking his stand. That could not be allowed. June was the beginning of the end. He fought it. He fought it so very hard. Images of bright green eyes full of tears and pain, happiness and joy. She kept him fighting when, perhaps, he ought to have given up.
July saw Simon fighting against the darkness that suddenly pervaded through his entire being. He hated it. He loathed the abomination of a man who felt the need to brand his fellow wizard. He felt hatred and contempt. He felt stained and dirty. Foul. Grotesque, even. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to truly feel clean. Not now. He would never forgive his father for forcing this aberration onto him. He'd never forget his first taste of the Imperius Curse. He'd never forget the utter disgust he'd felt at the foul magic that permeated his entire being. He would never forgive himself for his inability to be better, to be stronger.
But the Avery's weren't known for their fortitude. They weren't known for much of anything.
August saw Simon Avery teetering on the edge of broken. It saw his mother's tears. And his own, more than a few times. He was bound to a man that was everything that was wrong with the Pureblood dogma. Focusing on blood rather than Magic. Magic didn't make mistakes. But Magic allowed him to exist so maybe it did. He wasn't even capable of scolding himself for such traitorous thoughts. But he'd failed her. How would he be able to justify this to her? How could he protect her when he'd become a part of the biggest threat to her very existence? How would she ever forgive him?
September 1st saw him unable to meet her eye on the train. It saw her injured curiosity. Unable to face her with the guilt he felt since that day in Mid-July. It saw the pair sneak away when no one was much bothered to look for their wayward housemates. It saw them hiding away in the random unused classroom well after curfew to reveal to her what he wasn't enough to be able to prevent.
The ghastly Mark put, not only into his skin, but into his Magic.
She reached to touch the abomination and he carefully stilled her hand with his free one. There was no way he could allow something so awful to taint something as lovely and pure as her. He was damned. He'd be twice over if he allowed her to sink with him. She cried. Simon hated himself for betraying his promise to himself. He held her without attempting to hide his own tears. His Brokenness.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair just above her ear as he held her as tightly as he could. "I'm so very sorry I'm not strong enough to be what you deserve. I swear to you, my Lily, that I did fight it and I fought it for you. I'm so sorry that it wasn't enough."
She silenced him with a kiss. As though she truly didn't blame him. She should, he thought. They were slow and tender as they came together. When they parted in the early morning hours they knew that it was goodbye. Simon hated himself just a little bit more then. He hadn't thought it was possible to hate himself more.
He fought it. It would have been so much easier to succumb and embrace the madness.
Dark Arts.
They're as beautiful as the crimson witch that he still found himself ensnared by. And just as enticing. It was fascinating. And for a time he allows his curiosity to lead him once more. To a point. He tried very hard to give himself a hardline. Whenever this ended, when it came to its conclusion he desperately wanted to be able to tell his sweet Lily that he was still a good, honorable man.
As their seventh year passed, Simon watched from afar as James Potter courted his witch. He watched them grow closer as he, himself, was dragged further into the darkness that he wasn't sure he would ever escape from. He knew when they parted in September that his Lily would never truly be his again. He accepted it as the consequence of his weaknesses. He couldn't and absolutely wouldn't, begrudge her happiness. He knew at least that Potter was an honorable man.
She deserved a brave and honorable man.
Not to say that something hadn't shattered inside him as he watched the newly formed relationship blossom.
The train home at the end of the final year is a painful one. Two wizards bearing the foul mark. One pleased one reluctant. Both missing the radiating warmth from the smile of a ginger witch.
01 November 1981
Simon Avery was not a stupid man.
He knew that he had gotten blood on his hands, innocent blood at that. He knew that he had tears in his soul that would probably never heal. He knew there was a taint in his Magic that would likely never be clean. He knew that there were memories that he would never regain and more than a few that he would never forget.
But at that moment, in those midmorning hours on the first of November, as he sat in a Ministry holding cell all he could focus on was trying to contain the shattered pieces of his heart. The pieces that had shattered when he had heard the news of Lily Potter's death. Her murder. By the abomination who had permanently damaged his soul and his Magic.
He knew, he'd known from the very start that the man was a plague on their world. He'd tried to tell his father and he's gotten cursed in response. And now that man had robbed the world of the most beautiful and elegant creature that Simon had ever had the privilege to meet.
She was gone. And he sat pending his hearing. But his Lily was gone from this world. What sort of cruel world allowed the pure beauty to be snuffed but allowed the foul to continue breathing?
When his name was finally called and he was brought to task in front of the Wizengamot, he knows she'd never forgive him if she knew what was missing from his list of crimes. Would she have forgiven him, though? His soul prayed for her forgiveness. He certainly couldn't have told her truthfully that he was indeed still a good, honorable man. No, the honorable man was the one she chose to marry in the end. The one who died protecting his wife and child.
James Potter faced down their Master's wand and died with honor.
Simon Avery knelt before their Master's wand and lived with the demons as a result.
Imperius. It wasn't false. He clung to the washy facts like a lifeline. He did, after all, have a healthy sense of self-preservation.
As the heir to a House listed among the Sacred Twenty-eight, it surprised no one when he was found cleared of charges in a perfunctory proceeding. Simon let himself fade from the forefront of interest. He gave the media and the general population no reason to speak his name or to find interest in his comings and goings.
The name of Avery was now known for something. It was shameful that his House was forever doomed to be associated with death and dishonor. No longer was Simon Avery a name of amused exasperation, rather it was one of cruelty and fear.
Never had he felt so ashamed.