Lily liked to pretend.
When she was five she would pretend she was a princess, and that Teddy was the prince.
When she was seven, she'd discovered that Victoire was more princess-like than she would ever be, and decided she'd make a better superhero. She would save Teddy. She would.
When she was ten she would pretend that she had a wand. One with all the works. She'd used sticks that Teddy would bring her, and she would listen intently as he told her all about magic, and Hogwarts.
When she was thirteen she'd pretended she was older than she was. She'd snogged a boy, Lysander Scamander, to be precise. He was her first boyfriend, and she pretended that she loved him. Eventually, she would tell herself, she would really love him.
When she was fifteen she pretended that Teddy wasn't marrying Victoire. She pretended all the way up to the actually wedding day.
That was the day she finally realized that pretending doesn't change anything.
It doesn't change anything, at all.
She held on tightly to her mother's hand, sitting in the back row of the church, trying with much difficulty not to burst into tears. Her mother knew.
Her mother had always known.
Whereas her father and brothers were clueless. This didn't surprise Lily, as her father rarely had time to busy himself with teenage drama.
Two years after the wedding, Lily pretended to be happy for Victoire, when she announced she was pregnant.
She pretended to love the baby, even though, somewhere deep inside she definitely despised it greatly. It might have made her a bad person, but, at least she pretended, right?
When they asked her why she'd never married, she pretended that she hadn't had a clue why, and they bought it. All except her mother, that is.
Lily Luna Potter liked to pretend, however, she wasn't sure how she felt about the effects of pretending. Not quite sure, at all.