A/N: This is for Challenge #39 from the "Bellatrix Lestrange: The Dark Lord's Most Faithful" forum. OiSM-compliant. I have homework that I really ought to be doing instead. Strike-through is not accepted, so I will use bold instead.
March 1979
An elegant card coloured in curry lay open on the oaken desk and a young woman was hunched over a long roll of parchment. The days were short, it was late, and the room was illuminated by four floating candles. Many lines of words were crossed out on the parchment – some lines were merely struck through once, but others were blotted out completely as if a child had been allowed to do so.
Dear Sev,
How have you been? I'm relieved that I haven't heard of your death.
The woman sighed. This wouldn't work. She hadn't heard of his death, but she had heard of atrocities he – or at least his companions – had committed.
Dear Sev,
Have you come to your senses and ditched those evil so-called friends of yours?
Obviously, he hadn't, or she would have simply sent him the personally addressed but mostly generic wedding invitation that she was sending to everyone else.
Dear Sev,
I heard about your mother's passing. I'm really sorry for your loss.
She paused. She was genuinely sorry for his mother's death. She knew his home life hadn't been happy, and that most of that stemmed from his Muggle father's alcoholism. But those words felt so empty on the letter. He hadn't invited her to the private memorial service, or even let her know where she could send flowers. What were a few words of condolence now?
Dear Sev,
James proposed to me. I said yes. If things were different, maybe you would be standing by my side at the wedding, the way Sirius is standing by James. I know it's not traditional, but you were a closer friend than anyone else. I'm foolish for still hoping, aren't I?
You know, a few years back, I would never have imagined even considering marrying James. When I was younger, I even thought I'd be going to the altar with a diffirent different man, but I suppose that was also a foolish dream.
It'll be just a small wedding affair, nothing like Lucius and Narcissa's elaborate party, but if you decide that maybe our friendship meant something to you, I'll save you a seat at the bridal table. I'll even insist on your favourite lemon cake with strawberries just in case.
The woman smiled. Yes, sticking to the main point was better, with the words left unadorned. She had always liked that about Sev. He had been comfortable. He hadn't been awed by the aristocratic beauty or the pompous speech of the Black sisters. He didn't melt in front of Alecto Carrow, who had apparently made it her personal mission to make every Slytherin male one of her conquests. And he hadn't backed down back when James and Sirius were nothing more than arrogant bullies. Where did her best friend go?
She stifled a yawn, determined to finish the letter.
Hope to see you soon,
If you don't show up you're a rotten egg,
Petunia's vowed not to attend. You wouldn't want to be just like her, would you?
Love (still),
Lily
That was fine as it was. Lily pushed her dark red hair out of her face and briefly considered cutting her hair short as she set about copying her letter onto a fresh portion of parchment. When she was finished, she wearily smiled in accomplishment, dropping three small inkblots onto the letter. She stared at the offending drops, but then smiled again. Sev didn't like things perfect. He'd probably say the inkblots gave the letter character.
She'd mail his invitation first thing in the morning, she decided. And maybe she'd send invitations to her other former classmates. She wasn't so sure that James's ex-girlfriend Bellatrix would be glad to hear the news (and frankly, Lily thought Bellatrix had a good reason to hate James), but surely Narcissa would be impartial enough to wish her well? After all, Narcissa had grown up seeing Muggle-born mages as scum, yet in their seventh-year, she had recommended Lily for Head Girl to the headmaster. She'd heard that Narcissa was with child again; it'd be a good chance to wish her well – Narcissa had lost her previous pregnancy. Lily imagined that perhaps three years from now, their children could be playmates.
Lily dreamed that night of her school days when things were so much simpler. Images flew through her mind – of her fiancé when he had been mostly cruel, doing something shockingly nice for once, making a small black-haired girl laugh while another black-haired boy watching her with longing – of an auburn-haired girl watching her fair-haired sister jealously – of using a transfiguration course book as a pillow during finals week and being woken unceremoniously by the librarian – of riding a scarlet train with her best friend.
The sun didn't want to come out to play so the sky was overcast and Lily slept in until noon. Rested and refreshed, Lily stared at the letter she had written in the wee hours of the morning. She snorted and crumpled it up. What had she been thinking? If Sev had any intent to abandon the Dark Lord and was found with such an incriminating letter, she would have signed his death warrant. Of course, he may have had no intentions whatsoever of returning to his former life, and called her a sentimental Mudblood to the Dark Lord's face, but Lily didn't want to consider that possibility.
She stormed out of the room. Twenty seconds later, she returned. She smoothed out the letter and placed it between the pages of her diary.
One day, Sev. I know it.
A/N: Yes, Narcissa also loses the pregnancy that Lily mentions. She loses several by the time Draco is conceived.