WARNING: This story has adult themes and graphic content that might be sensitive or triggering for some people. Cursing, sex, and other mature things. Sorry 'bout it. Hope those of you who read enjoy—if so, leave a review! Thanks.
When Lily loves, she loves few and far between.
However, at a young age, she was thrown into a world of romance she couldn't have anticipated. Having been regaled by stories of Mum and Dad, a slow and steady build to a passionate kiss in the middle of a war at a young age, she believed that she could find that love, too.
So when an older, beautiful boy pulls you into a dark corner, fingers flitting over dark red hair, brown eyes dancing in the fire light as he beheld her blue ones, she knew not to resist. To her it didn't matter that the boy was eighteen and she was thirteen, or that a boy had never touched her so roughly or intimately before, or that he had a hunger in his eyes she couldn't contain—it only mattered that he was dreamy head boy Philip, and that his girlfriend, head girl, bubblegum-chewing, toe-headed Ava, was nowhere in sight.
A loss of innocence is always a sad thing, especially at such a young age. Lily didn't know this. She glowed all the way back to her room, lit like a candle, hoodie zipped up to her chin and jeans only zipped up halfway. It was past curfew so no one was there to witness her in all her luminescence, but she swore if they had, they would see pure enlightenment.
Thirteen year old Lily was naïve, lazy, and manipulated beyond belief. Philip's beautiful smile was like a wolf's, but she couldn't help being devoured by it. His touch was electric and the secrecy of their relationship, rather than angering her, delighted her. Upon seeing him holding hands with Ava in the hallway, she would feel a clandestine thrill, and as his bronze gaze met hers, he felt the same thrill. Lily had a soft beauty that no one, not even Ava, possessed. Hidden beneath fur-lined jackets and roughed-up jeans and corduroys, Philip felt especially superior, knowing what was hidden beneath.
Night upon night was spent past curfew, sitting on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, exhilarated by the wind whipping around their dangling legs, their calm buzz permeating the air and the smoke that mixed with the ruddy cold as they huffed and puffed on a joint. Time seemed to stand still those winter nights, and stretched into sunlight as the Christmas break whizzed past. They reunited with a passion, and she imagined a future not unlike her parents—married, with kids, a quaint cottage, stable jobs and no Ava or anyone to stand in the way.
That was the happy part of the year. Her dreams deadened to the simple contentment of being with him, the rough fucking, and pushing down of any resentment she felt towards Ava and her power, her beauty, and her hold over Philip. Stuffing the nausea and jealousy she felt when she saw them together in a small, little box that she locked up and kept deep down inside, and tried to burn to ashes every night as her lungs turned to ashes with a lighter and rolled up herbs. A jealousy she tried to smother with his kisses, but still he would pull away for air and it would come back with the rush of cold air between them.
Several instances occurred that ended the affair: when they were almost caught, when Lily failed potions, when they were actually caught, and when Philip graduated.
When they were almost caught
"What's that constellation?"
Lily squinted, but the lights above remained a blur, like Christmas tree lights that winked between branches. She breathed out smoke and replied, "I dunno. My eyesight's bad."
Philip laughed, "You should know just by where I'm pointing. You don't pay any attention in Astronomy."
"How would you know?" Lily snapped, smiling nonetheless. She passed the blunt, and his bare hand brushed her red glove. She could see his pale hands, cold and shivering every night, and she wished he would reach out to hold hers.
"Because you're not studious. You never go to the library, you never study, and you get bad grades. You know, as Head Boy, I can see your grades anytime I want to? You're almost failing potions." He was laughing at her, and her smile faded. "You're just a pothead, Lily. Maybe you should start paying attention in class."
Her breathing quickened, but she couldn't even bring herself up to get that angry. She just sagged against the pillar beside her, arse right up to the edge of the ledge, throwing him a cursory glance with clear blue eyes before defending herself: "Hey, are you calling me stupid?" Well, failing at defending herself.
He laughed again. It was starting to get irritating. And what was even more irritating was that he didn't respond, making his silence more clear than any verbal assent could. She felt obliged to push him the seven or so stories down to the hard ground below.
"I'm not stupid," she huffed, but her words grabbed onto the wind and flew away, making her feel even more stupid than before.
"Well, you're not exactly in line to be Head Girl," Philip muttered, the tip of his wand bursting alight with a sputter and meeting the end of the joint with a gentle practice that was a tell to just how often he made this motion. This was the worst thing he could've possibly said to her at this moment, because now they were both thinking about Ava. The image was enough to make Lily sit upright and turn to him with a sharp glare, but he didn't meet her gaze. He inhaled deeply, trying to seem unaware of her anger, but there was unease in his look that revealed just how much he anticipated this exact response to what he had said in a far greater stupidity than what he accused her of.
With a muttered "unbelievable" and an aggravated sigh, she woozily stood up from the ledge, the stars seeming to spin and swirl above her as if in a Van Gogh painting. She tripped over the side and onto the hard concrete floor of the tower. She cried out in pain and cursed Philip to go to hell, and he called after her as she tried to collect herself and make her escape.
"You're so immature, Lily! You know that's not what I meant," Philip said, his voice tired and annoyed. He was close behind her, she could hear it, but she was determined to flee. She knew she wouldn't make it to the exit without him catching up, however, and this both thrilled and bothered her.
A hand clamped around her arm, a grip that surely would've hurt but didn't because of the ample padding her furry jacket provided, and she was swiftly turned around and pinned against a firm body, arms looped around her lower back, lips seeking hers. His momentum was greater than hers, and they tripped a step, he forwards and her backwards, and they fell to the floor.
Lily's bum and head collided with the floor causing a sharp pain to run up her spine and to her scalp, but before she could yelp, Philip's mouth covered hers and they were kissing heavily. Panting out puffs of condensation into the cold winter air, Philip managed to unbutton both of their pants and struggled to guide his way in.
Everything came to a screeching halt when the sound of footfalls met their ears. With no time to spare to pull up their trousers, Philip let his body fall over Lily's, holding her head to his chest and covering her bright hair with his arms. Lily's face was smashed into his jacket, his zipper pressing into her nose in a very uncomfortable way. It was just enough to muffle her "Hey!" of indignation.
Philip looked up to see a fellow named Edward—a friend of a friend, the Slytherin seeker, and also in his 7th year—skid to a halt at the doorway to the staircase.
"Get out!" Philip yelled sharply. Edward's eyes widened and he turned around, almost tripping back down the stairs in his haste. Edward yelled back, a bit muffled as he headed down the stairs, "Sorry Philip, Ava; as you were!"
By this point, the mood was utterly killed—dead and buried, actually. But Philip gave one last feeble thrust before sighing and pulling away. He did himself up and muttered some curses before abandoning Lily completely, without even a "see you tomorrow."
As high as she was, she laid there for several moments, her jeans still undone and around her thighs. Darkness swirled above her, turning into double vision and then triple vision, and then colliding back together. "I know the constellations," she muttered in anger, but still failed to name any her mind. She blamed her lack of sobriety and got up, collecting herself and heading back to her dorm.
The next day, Philip sat with Ava at breakfast with all of her friends in Slytherin. Something Philip liked about Ava was the fact she was in Slytherin—not only was she beautiful, but she had a quiet, naughty smile, like she knew something he didn't, something good, something he'd want to know. She was mysterious, even after three years of dating. He knew eventually he would know more about her and the anomaly that was Ava would dissolve, but for now, her hand was inching up his thigh under the table and soft dimples were showing on her creamy complexion as one of her friends cracked a joke. Her green eyes cut to him, a dark, olive green, narrowing a little, her lips slanting in a way that made his stomach churn in want. Yes, she seemed to know something. He thought back to the night before with Lily—did Edward say something?
He nervously looked over to Edward, who was acting normal so far, sitting on his other side. He jumped a bit as her hand came dangerously close to his crotch.
Something Philip didn't like about Ava was her purity ring, silver and blindingly bright, only two thin pieces of fabric away from his hard-on. After a year of dating, he figured she would give in. But she didn't. Two more years, and still she sat next to him, ever the tease, ever the enigma.
He had been dating Ava for six months when he noticed Lily Potter—fresh-faced at eleven. He could tell she would be pretty. It was in her third year, only six months before, when he saw her walking alone and made his move, almost unable to resist. And to his intense happiness, she gave in. She wasn't the first girl he had cheated on Ava with, but definitely the best, and definitely the youngest, and definitely the first virgin. Something in him told him it was wrong, someone so young, but he couldn't bring himself to care, much less stop.
"I have head duties with Philip later, so I can't," Ava said, making Philip snap to attention at the mention of his name. Edward cracked up laughing next to him. Philip felt his blood turn cold as Ava's hand stilled, giving Edward an annoyed look.
"What?" she snapped.
"Nothing—just—," Edward tried to catch his breath. "Head… duties. Oh, Merlin." He sucked in breath, looking to Philip for confirmation, but he wasn't laughing. And Ava wasn't going to let it go.
"Is this supposed to be something dirty? Because I would never," Ava said, pulling her hand away from Philip's thigh and holding up her ring finger. She was proud of it. It had become a constant joke among Philip's friends, and cause for embarrassment.
"Mhmm, like that ever stopped you," Edward said. "Anyways, I'm done. Nice one, mate." He clapped Philip on the shoulder and left. Everyone was quiet at the table, Ava's friends giving them odd looks.
"Well, I've no idea what that was about," Philip said, a practiced liar. Ava smiled and kissed his cheek, not a bit worried.
Meanwhile, two tables over, Lily sat alone, slumped over the table, bags under her eyes after so many nights of what could've been good rest sacrificed to the head boy's libido.
ii. When lily failed potions
Lily was sobbing.
"I'm sorry," Professor Slughorn said, standing awkwardly apart from her, unsure how to comfort her. "But this late in the year, I'm afraid it's too late to raise your grade in a way that could save you."
Lily shook her head, still sobbing, cursing herself for every assignment she pushed aside, every paper she didn't write, every exam she didn't study for in favor of sleeping, smoking, or having sex.
"Even if you got a perfect score on the final… I'm afraid…" Slughorn didn't finish. The ironic thing was Lily attended every Slug Club meeting just to see Philip without Ava, spiking the punch before they went off together. She supposed that was why Slughorn hadn't had the heart to ever really come down on Lily. Every time she failed or didn't turn in work, he took it as a personal flaw, never blaming Lily, only singing her praises, which made her feel even worse for letting him down now.
Surely her parents already knew.
Oh, Merlin. They knew.
Lily cared about very few things, but one of the few things she loved very much were her immediate family—Mum, Dad, James, and Albus. Albus was her ultimate confidante and protector, James, in seventh year, was her fellow prankster and alcohol supplier, Mum always understood her and slept with her when her bouts of depression became too much and she cried great, racking sobs through the night, and Dad was her hero, her friend, and her quidditch coach after Mum's injury.
She couldn't stand to let them down, and she couldn't possibly explain why she had failed.
Lily waited for Philip to show. He was late. They agreed to meet at midnight at their ledge on the astronomy tower. He walked in fifteen minutes after 12. Her arms crossed over her chest, she was huffing out cold air, angry and distraught.
"Hey," Philip barely got out before Lily was climbing back over the ledge to stand before him, her blue eyes narrowed under blonde lashes.
"You ruined… everything!" she yelled, her voice rough from ragged breathing and crying.
"Oh, and how's that?" he asked, his hands in his pockets, not a smidgeon of worry in his eyes or his easy smile. Lily's chest felt like it was breaking apart. She wanted him to get mad, or annoyed, or defend himself, or to even care, just a little bit.
"I'm failing potions," she said, let down a bit by his lack of response. "Not even that, I already failed it. There's no way I'll pass."
He frowned, utterly forced, as far as Lily could tell, and came forward to hug her. He enveloped her in his arms, her shaking, cold, short little body, and she moved into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and crying into his shoulder. "Shhh, I'm sorry, babe. It'll be okay. You don't even like potions, so there's no big deal to be had. You'll just nail it next year, I'll be sure of it."
"We both know that's not true," she sniffled, "you'll be gone, at university, becoming a healer. And I'll be dropped from the class or have to retake it."
"Oh, babe," he sighed into her hair, warming her scalp for a moment. He kissed her head, having to bend his neck all the way down, over a head taller than her. His fingers eased into her hair, his cold palms pressed to her neck, tilting her head back and kissing her chapped lips. She resisted for a moment, but gave in as her body warmed to his touch. He picked her up so her legs wrapped around his hips, and walked back until she was sat down on the stone ledge again.
"I don't want to tonight," she mumbled against his lips as his hands fumbled to unzip her jumper. His hands continued to fumble with the caught zipper until anger flared up in her and sent a jolt of electricity through their connected lips. He jolted back, pushing her until she almost lost her balance and fell back seven stories. She gasped, falling back over onto the astronomy tower floor, tears flooding her eyes, her lips stinging from the shock.
"What the fuck?" he yelled, covering his bleeding mouth where he had bit down hard on his tongue.
"I didn't mean to," she said softly, trying to stop her tears from falling. "You just… I'm just mad."
"I just what?" he spat, literally spat, blood and saliva falling from his lips and splatting against stone. "You're such a bitch sometimes." He turned and started to leave, still covering his mouth. Lily shot up, chasing after him, barely able to grab his shoulder as he started down the stairs.
"Wait! Where are you going?!" Lily was desperate, and the desperation was clear in her voice, and she couldn't stop the tears from falling this time. Philip didn't seem concerned as he answered, "I dunno, maybe Ava's up for something tonight."
He was almost around the corner of the spiraling staircase when Lily finally got her voice back, screaming "Fuck you!" at his back.
iii. When they were actually caught
"Hey, Ava, wake up, baby."
There was a soft tickling against her cheek, and she pulled in a sharp breath before opening her eyes into his—her boyfriend's, a warm brown, wide and alight, completely awake. His hand was cold, his cheeks flushed in the white light streaming in from the moon and through the lake. A fish swam by, tail flapping against the thick glass.
"Have you been outside?" Ava murmured. His eyes stayed alight, his hand still caressing her cheek, but he didn't answer, instead suggesting she scoot over. As head girl, she had her own room apart from her fellow seventh year Slytherins. Many a night, pretty much since the night the year started, he had been suggesting they sleep together, but she resisted, knowing what that could lead to. She knew he couldn't sleep very well at night and often messed around, his hands roaming her body, and she would eventually end up annoyed, kicking him out.
"Scoot over, baby," he whispered in a rush. He seemed excited, as if something had just happened, as if he had been going all night. She looked over at her alarm clock. 2 in the morning. She scooted over, hoping he would just let her sleep. But as soon as he was under the covers, his fingers were digging under her t-shirt, pulling the fabric up. She gasped at his ardent wickedness, immediately pushing him away and yanking her shirt down where it had only revealed her soft, fleshy stomach. She was blushing in the dark, embarrassed and shocked.
"What on earth are you doing, Philip?!" she whispered, even though she was now fully awake and knew exactly what he was doing. This wasn't the first time he had showed up in the night, unannounced, looking for pleasure. The farthest they had ever gone was heavy make-out sessions, some heavy petting, and one time at the beginning of the year, he had somehow gotten her bra off, but once his head started to dip to her nipple, she came back to her senses and kicked him out. It had taken him a week to get back in her good graces, and he hadn't touched her breasts since.
"I wanna make love, baby," he said, breathless, reaching for her again. There was a passion in his eyes she had never seen. He had always been a bit wild, enthusiastic, telling her he loved her when she hesitated over his zipper, or kissing her hard while she explained why she couldn't have sex with him to distract her.
"What! What is wrong with you? It's 2 in the morning! Can this wait?!" Ava was appalled. This had never happened, this absolute zealous and forthright sexual behavior. It had always been more of a slow, steady build. They hadn't even had alone time since winter break. She wondered what had brought this on. Had he been wandering the castle again?
"Ava, you know I love you and I know you love me, so why not? Forget about the ring," Philip reached for her hand and tried to wrench it off her finger, and she yelled out in pain.
"What—what—stop! Stop that!" She pulled her hand away forcefully, her eyes wet and her heart pounding. Her hand back and flattened to her chest, she met his eyes, blinking fast. "What brought this on?"
Philip spoke fast, placing his hand over hers on her chest almost lovingly, if it weren't for the fact that his other hand was digging into the bed in a frenzied way, "The fact that we've been together for three years and I love you and I want to show you I love you. You're beautiful, Ava, we're going to get married, so we're going to do it eventually. Why not now?"
"Um, there's school tomorrow, it's 2 in the morning, we're not ready…" she trailed off, still utterly flummoxed. "Do you even have a condom?"
He smiled and reached for his pocket. Oh. So he had thought it out beforehand. (It had really been for Lily, is what she didn't know).
"I promised God I wouldn't have sex before I was married, Philip," she said, slipping her hand out from his. But her voice sounded weak to her own ears. And he smiled, and his smile was calm and beautiful, so he must've heard it, too.
They collided in the middle, kissing fervently. Ava didn't even masturbate, so she felt a deep need she had never felt before. She let herself accept the fact that she wanted it, she wanted it more than anything in that moment. Once she accepted that fact, things moved a little faster. She pulled her shirt off over her head, and he stared at her bare chest with a triumphant feeling he had never felt with any other girl. Ava's breasts were full, much bigger than Lily's very flat chest, but he knew that, since Ava was much chubbier than Lily. They were a little far apart, nipples large, perfectly imperfect. He felt like he was dreaming. Angry and turned on, coming to Ava's room had been an idea he had only said to hurt Lily, and he had no idea it would actually pay off.
He fondled her chest, yanking at her pink nipples as she fell back over him, whimpering and groaning in almost a pornographic way. He was so hard it hurt. And he knew she could feel it, too. She ground against him with a natural ease she never knew she had, and felt gratification in a spot only Philip had touched, and rarely touched, at that.
They kissed for only a few minutes before he got her pants off, which were the only bottoms she slept in that night—light pink granny panties, with an old stain on the crotch. He tried not to cringe at the mere sight of them, thinking of Lily's lacy numbers that never ceased to excite him.
He flipped her over onto her back, undressing himself quickly before she could change her mind. Her thoughts were racing, unable to comprehend what was happening; only that she had felt better than ever before. She didn't feel big like she usually did, only gorgeous under the heated gaze of her boyfriend. A finger entered her, and she gasped, not necessarily enjoying the in-and-out sensation, but definitely enjoying what his thumb was doing higher up. She had a fleeting thought—wondering, if he had never done this before, since he was a virgin just like her, why he seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and with a practiced hand, doing it well. But she hardly thought it before two fingers were inside her, stretching.
With each moment, Philip felt less and less gratified. Every girl he had fucked before never took this much grueling foreplay—having to finger her and turn her on and distract her from the fact that she wanted to wait until marriage. With Lily, he got to thrust in without warning, he got to slap and choke and bite her like he wanted to, like she wanted him to. He had a feeling Ava wouldn't go for that. No, she definitely wouldn't go for any of that. But he couldn't back out now, and he had to get it in before he got soft.
"Ready?" he asked, without waiting for a reply. He was putting on the condom, which he had summoned with his wand on the side of the bed. She gasped, her eyes flashing with panic. He looked up at her between her bent legs, over the dark hair on her crotch, over her rolling stomach, to her quivering lips. He had to move fast. He rolled it down his length and settled back between her legs, his face breathing against her opening. His hands guided her legs over his shoulders, and he began to lick and suck, working his tongue over her clit. She murmured his name at the beginning, but then began to really get into it, grabbing at his hair. This would be the point Lily pulled his head back up and demanded he fuck her, now. But Ava would never say such a thing, never would she boss him around or curse.
He pulled himself back up and slowly entered, groaning and feeling her tightness like a vice, knowing that when she came back to her senses, it might be the end of their relationship, but knowing that for this moment, it was worth it to take her virginity. She hardly showed the pain she felt, and he knew why—she was wet, like, really wet. Lubricated and ready. He started to thrust once he reached the hilt, and never had missionary felt so good for him. He barely remembered to whisper "I love you" to her in a way that might sound loving, before he started really shagging her.
She screamed in all the ways he wanted, surprisingly an absolute animal in bed for her first time, and he wondered if this really was her first time or if she had been having flings on the side this whole time. This thought gave him the anger he needed to thrust at an even faster pace, his hands on her clavicle, itching to close around her neck. He withheld.
They stayed in the same position the whole time, her eyes closed, his eyes on her bouncing breasts, for the twelve minutes that it lasted. He barely told her that he was going to finish before his voice became strangled and he was, indeed, finished. He collapsed on top of her and was breathing into her silky gold hair for only a moment before she was crying into his shoulder.
"Oh, God," he groaned. Quickly he pulled away and touched her face, red and scrunched up, "I mean, baby, what's wrong? Did it hurt?" His concern was almost real, because he really had felt very good and kind of wanted to do it again, feeling he could recover if she gave him half an hour.
"No, it was, I just, I love you, baby," she told him, overcome with emotion.
Sure enough, thirty minutes later, he got her to agree to try being on top and Ava had sex for the second time in her life.
Lily headed back to her room, down the astronomy tower stairs, still crying. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. She headed to the dungeons, in need of seeing her brother; half hoping she would run into Philip, half-hoping she wouldn't. If she saw him, he was headed to Ava. If she saw him, she could make things right. The only comfort she had was that there was no way they would have sex—Ava had a purity ring she never took off, and held over people, like her intact hymen made her better than others. It annoyed Lily, but for now, she was grateful for the stupid thing.
Lily made it to Albus' room, where he slept with all the other sixth year Slytherins. She looked around at the smelly mess and cringed, making her way through clothes and school bags and video games. She stood over Albus, on top of his sheets and in his boxers, skinny with the fluffiest duck hair you'd ever seen. His glasses sat on his arithmetic workbook next to him. His watch was still on his wrist, probably digging in to sensitive skin there and hurting him.
She nudged his shoulder and, light sleeper that he was, his eyes opened and met hers, brown just like their Mum's. "Hey," he whispered, sitting up and making room for her, "what's wrong, Lils?" She moved his book from the bed onto his nightstand, getting under the sheet that he never seemed to use, since he seemed to be a human heater as well as a wizard and a part-time chaser.
Lily cried into his shoulder until Albus finally demanded she answer or he would kick her out (he said all this in jest, mind you).
"I failed potions," Lily replied, wiping at her nose. Albus didn't reply, knowing this was the best response. If she had admitted this defeat, there was no going back—he knew Lily wouldn't have said anything unless it was final and there was no way for her to fight back.
Across the way, Slytherin keeper Ibrahim Ayoub sat up and whispered dreamily, "What's going on? Why is there a girl in here?"
"It's just my sister, go back to bed."
"Oh, hey, Lily."
"Hey, Ibrahim. Good night."
Lily took that as her cue to leave, kissed him goodnight, and headed to Gryffindor tower. She didn't see Philip on the way out, either, and looked over to the girls' wing, tempted to go in and place her ear against the door at the very end—she assumed the room at the end, since that's where Philip's room was in Ravenclaw tower.
Lily walked away, which showed a great deal of strength on her end. If something was happening in that room, she didn't want to know.
Ava stared at herself at her vanity, trying to see if she looked older, liberated, or different in any way. But no, she didn't. She didn't even feel an ache down there. She stared back at the same pretty, round face. She stared back into the same dark green eyes, the same creamy skin with spots around her hairline.
She looked back down at her purity ring and considered taking it off. She twirled it around her finger. She even placed it on a necklace, considering wearing it around her neck instead. But no, that way people would definitely know, and she couldn't have that. She was living a lie with that ring on, but she couldn't take it off.
No part of Ava regretted the night before. In fact, she quite enjoyed it, and she couldn't stop smiling about it. Philip was currently in her private shower, begging her to get in with him, but she refused, wanting some alone time with her thoughts. She applied her makeup and felt better already, more beautiful and more like the flawless, virginal head girl everyone knew her to be.
They purposely headed out to breakfast early before anyone could see them leaving her room together. They held hands, proudly, smiling, more in love than they had ever been—all Ava's thoughts, by the way. Philip was anxious to see Lily. Lily, as bad as she was at Astronomy and, well, school as of late, she was perceptive—she was smart. She might look at them together and know immediately.
Lily was already at the Gryffindor table, looking rough once again. She met Philip's eyes for a moment, but he didn't let the gaze linger, not wanting to see her reaction.
Lily hadn't slept the night before. After Albus', she sat up in bed and flipped through her potions text book, considering whether she should even go to class the next day between bouts of crying. Finally, she decided she would. Maybe if she studied enough and got a perfect score on the final—she knew if she applied herself she could—Slughorn would feel generous and let her pass. Once light started streaming in through the dorm windows, she got dressed in her usual oversized black hoodie, zipping it all the way up and flipping the hood up over her head. She wore washed out black jeans, the only color to her supplied by her bright blue eyes. Even her dark red hair seemed dull and lifeless.
With her potions book clutched to her chest and her school bag filled with notes in the other, she slaved over recipes and ingredients while snacking on bacon and fried eggs. No one was there, not at her table, not even in the hall—it was much too early. Hours went by and students started to trickle in, only about ten early birds. She noticed when each one entered, and that's why she noticed Philip and Ava come in. It was hard not to notice them, even when the great hall was packed. They were the golden couple, head boy and head girl, just like her grandparents. But she had a feeling that's where the similarities ended.
They were holding hands, and Ava was smiling in a way that was inappropriate, Lily felt, for so early in the morning. She wouldn't be able to smile if all of her dreams had miraculously come true that early in the morning. But then again, she had never been up this early before, and maybe that was just Ava in the morning—glowing and beautiful. She met eyes with Philip, who also had a smile on his face, however vague and half-hearted it seemed to be, but she looked away before he could see how tired and depressed she looked. The sadness had crept back in, seeping in like a winter cold through her bones. She distanced herself from friends and especially Philip when this happened, but he somehow always found a way of breaking back in, wanting her more because she pulled away.
Suddenly not in the mood for studying, she went back to her room just as everyone was getting up. She collapsed in bed and didn't get up for the rest of the day, skipping all of her classes, and most importantly, potions. An owl swooped in as a classmate stopped by for a forgotten book before the door closed behind her, landing on her headboard and dropping a letter right onto her face. Dread dropped into her stomach as she saw it was from her mother.
Clutching the letter to her chest, she began to cry again, knowing exactly what it would say, and knowing that it would only make her feel worse. It would say: Is it the depression again? Are you okay? I'm here for you. We'll get you caught up over the summer and back in the class. Don't worry, honey. We love you.
She wrote back when she found the energy later in the evening without even opening the letter, insisting that she was okay, that she couldn't wait for Easter break to see the family again, and that she loved her, too. Lily fell asleep at eight and didn't wake up until noon the next day, missing her first class and just barely making it for the end of astronomy. She grabbed the notes from a friend and headed to Ravenclaw tower, knowing that she needed something, and she wasn't going to deprive herself of what she needed.
Philip entered his room to a wonderful surprise.
And a surprise he needed, too. And he wasn't going to deprive himself of what he needed.
Ava was reeling on the inside, holding in her news all day. She wanted to tell Sharon what had happened so badly. Sharon was her best friend, and they told each other everything. Sharon had told Ava when she lost her virginity at end of last summer, so it was only fair that she did the same.
But upon looking around Sharon's room where the rest of her Slytherin seventh year friends slept, she couldn't find her. She looked around the library as well, wandered through the great hall, and even checked the infirmary—but no Sharon.
Well, the good thing was, she always had Philip. And now they had something else they could do.
She headed to Ravenclaw tower, excitement coursing through her. Would they have sex again? Was that how it worked now—they could just do it whenever, or was it just special occasions? She thought maybe they shouldn't have sex all the time—sex was special, and she had been saving it for marriage. But looking into Philip's eyes that night, she knew that he was going to be her husband, so it didn't matter if it was now or later. He loved her more than anyone ever would, and she was lucky to have him. He was head boy, unbelievably handsome with his sandy blonde hair and chocolate-y eyes, intelligent and sweet, and he had waited so long for her. He was so respectful, and got along with her family. She knew he was it.
Ava opened his door, unlocked, and what she saw she couldn't comprehend. There was so much skin, it took her several moments to understand. The noises emanating from the room were so loud and lewd, she realized there must've been a silencing charm on the door, because it was silent when she had walked down the hall. A girl was bent over the bed, facing away from her, her long, bare back deeply freckled. She could tell the girl was skinny—her shoulder blades stuck out of her back, and so did each little bump of her spine. Dark red hair splayed out around her head like a halo. She looked up to the man behind her—Philip, his bare bottom facing her, clenched as he thrust into this girl—who was this girl? She couldn't think of anyone in their year with red hair, and not even in the year below, except for Rose, but her hair was more ginger and curly.
They didn't notice her entrance, and continued with their act, Philip reaching out for the girl's hair and yanking on it so her head came up and into view. And then his other hand came up, slapping her butt, hard, over and over, making Ava wince. Horrified, she recognized the face—Lily Potter, famous daughter of Harry Potter. She was all over Witch Weekly. She remembered, just last week, flipping through an issue with her friends on Stealing Lily's Look, under which was listed expensive brands of dark hoodies and ripped jeans she had actually considered buying. And now here she was, getting fucked by her boyfriend. Her boyfriend who had just taken her virtue. Her sacred virginity that she had waited to give him, the love of her life. Oh God.
"Oh, God," she said, clutching at her heart, unable to breathe. Lily screamed in shock, Philip pulling away, and they both stood and turned to her, Philip's dick still flopping around. They looked shocked. Oh, God, they looked caught.
"Wait," Philip said, "wait wait wait—," but Ava wasn't going anywhere, clutching the wall, stock still, unable to cry because she was so utterly confused and heartbroken and shocked.
And Lily—well, stumbling around for her clothes, accidentally pulling on Philip's shirt instead of her own (adding insult to injury), she didn't seem happy at all. Ava thought, because her boyfriend was so coveted, she might seem triumphant—but no, Lily seemed on the verge of tears as well. She turned around after pulling on her left shoe and Ava saw, oh, God, no, Lily was full-on crying, face bright red and eyes squinted and watery.
Philip had gotten dressed as well, but was sans shirt, as Lily had taken his. He knelt in front of where Ava had slid to the floor, hands still clutched to her heart. "Baby, wait, this—I'm so sorry, she was just in my room and she was all over me and—"
Lily grabbed her wand and slipped out before she could hear any more of his lies.
"—I let my emotions slip away from me and, Ava, baby, I wasn't thinking, I just wasn't thinking. You know I love you, right? Ava, please—!"
Ava slapped him and got up, pushing him back as he tried to get closer. He kept talking as she walked out, but she managed to slam the door in his face and lock it with her wand before fleeing. However, he didn't manage to catch up.
iv. When Philip graduated
Mrs. Onwudiwe sat across a large oak desk from Lily, her long, brown fingers crossed together in front of her, her head covered in a bright orange patterned scarf and her dark eyes examining Lily. They had been sitting in silence for over five minutes, and Lily was too afraid to break it.
Nia Onwudiwe had a way of scrutinizing people until they felt like bursting from discomfort. For a while she had taught divination as well as counseling students, but eventually took on counseling full-time, much to her students' relief, since hardly anyone could get away with even passing a note behind her back during class. However, becoming the student body's counselor wasn't much better—answering to questions like "how are you doing in school?" and "why have you been missing class?" became much more loaded questions than they might've been under the previous counselor. Lily felt this same scrutiny, and shivered in her seat despite her heavy jacket.
"So," Mrs. Onwudiwe finally spoke, "I chatted with some of your professors about your recent low grades, absences, and general rule-breaking."
Lily expected the first two, but definitely not the third, and made this clear with a sharp question: "What rule-breaking?"
It looked like the counselor wanted to roll her eyes, but was holding back. She replied between tight lips, "Well, for one, breaking dress code."
Lily almost fell out of her chair in surprise. She had been breaking dress code almost all of third year, and no one had said anything. She looked down at her current outfit—black hoodie in lieu of a black school-issued Gryffindor robe, zipped up over her white button-up shirt sans tie (which she had lost in the laundry), wrinkled gray skirt, and black tights with several runs over the knees and thighs. The most ghastly part of the ensemble, at least to Nia Onwudiwe, were the shiny, bright red rain boots—even though, oddly enough, it was one of the few days where it wasn't raining.
Unsure of what to say or how to apologise, Lily remained silent.
"Also, you've failed to show up for detention three times since winter break, for which you were caught wandering the castle past curfew." Lily sighed, actually aware of this infraction. A sliver of detestation towards Philip, who had never been caught nor punished, ran through her. The golden boy. She wanted to throw up.
"However, there is a silver lining," she continued. Lily sat up straighter, her red boots squeaking over the wooden floor. "You're passing—albeit barely—all of your classes, except potions. But after speaking with Professor Slughorn, he has agreed to let you pass the year if you make a perfect score on the final exam. Now, since you shouldn't even be able to pass, this is big news. If you really apply yourself, I think you can do it."
Lily felt her stomach drop. A perfect score? It was impossible. She was pretty sure no one could get a perfect score on a potions final. But it was her only chance, and she needed to do this. And here was a woman with the power of divination telling her she could do it. Lily agreed and was dismissed, scheduled with another three detentions, orders to change clothes for the rest of her classes, and headed off to begin studying immediately.
Ava hadn't talked to Philip in 3 days.
Lily hadn't talked to Philip in 3 days.
Philip patrolled the castle at his regular schedule, but Ava, naturally, as head girl, his patrolling partner, didn't show up. He had waited around at their usual spot for fifteen minutes before bailing.
Wandering the castle at night was the last thing he wanted to be doing. Philip hated being alone with his thoughts, and that's why he constantly needed something—or someone—to take up his time. He had spent almost every single night with Lily since their first rendezvous, and he had to admit, he missed her. He missed Ava, too, but he just didn't see her as much as he saw Lily. He had taken them both for granted, especially Lily.
He checked the Astronomy Tower five times that night, but each time it was empty. No late-night stragglers, nobody looking for a quiet place to think, no lovers, no Lily. Depressed Lily. Tiny Lily. Beautiful, sexy, intriguing Lily.
Philip was rounding a corner when he ran into someone, chest-to-chest. He jumped back before there was any true damage in the collision, and was surprised to look up and see Rose Weasley.
"Oh, Philip! Hi! I've been looking for you, actually," Rose said, her voice much too chipper for his current mood. Philip assessed her quickly—he hardly saw her up close. They weren't exactly friends, or even acquaintances. Her hair was in crunchy curls, styled by mousse, he assumed. Her prefect badge glimmered on her lumpy black sweater, and her rectangular face was twitching with a nervous smile. Considering how beautiful Lily was, he was surprised Rose was even related.
"Hey, Rose. What's up?" He wished he hadn't rounded this corner. He wondered if he had jinxed himself by wishing he had company.
She sucked in a breath, "Ava sent me to cover her patrol shift with you. She's caught a bit of a cold. Anyways, I know it's been a couple hours, but don't worry, I've been patrolling in the meantime!" Rose smiled her winning smile, which Philip decided was probably her only redeeming feature—straight, white teeth and a dimple on each side of her plump, pink lips. For just a flash of a second, he considered kissing those lips, just out of loneliness. Then he remembered himself.
"Right. Well, I think I'm actually going to head back early tonight. Thanks anyways." He began to stride past her, but she stepped to the side, blocking his route.
"Where are you going?" she asked, tilting her head in a way she probably thought was cute. "Ravenclaw tower is that way." Rose lifted an arm, pointing behind him, but in doing so, brushed his shoulder and took a step closer. He almost wanted to roll his eyes.
"You don't have to try so hard, you know."
Rose took a surprised step back, back to where she had been when she'd blocked him. Her face was all degrees of surprised and embarrassed. At what he said, and that he'd caught on.
"Oh. Well, I'll just go then." Rose walked past him, in what was indeed the direction to Ravenclaw tower. He hadn't been heading there, obviously. He wanted to check the Astronomy Tower one last time.
His heart sinking lower with each step up, he truly didn't expect to see anyone up there. To his astonishment, he was wrong. Three girls sat in a circle beneath the stars, all in pajamas, passing around a bottle of liquor.
"Hey!" he exclaimed. They all turned. He didn't register their faces, could only register his misguided anger. "Give me that." Philip strode forward and took the bottle, still half empty. Hah. Half empty. Not half full, not right now, he thought.
They sheepishly all stood up. They were young, probably third or fourth years, faces dotted in zit cream, one girl even sporting a nose strip. "What house are all of you in?"
"Hufflepuff," they all said at once.
"10 points from Hufflepuff. And I'm confiscating this. You're lucky you caught me on a good night, otherwise I'd be reporting you to McGonagall. Next time, I won't hesitate. Now back to bed!" All three of them scuttled out, leaving Philip alone with half a bottle of—he check the label—fireball.
He sat down on his and Lily's ledge, and figuring it might be some firewhiskey knock-off, drank a quarter of the bottle until he was thinking about Lily and raving at the sky. He pointed to a star. "Stupid bitch doesn't even know what this constellation is. Stupid bitch! Why won't she talk to me?" He took another gulp, saw a bird fly past, and yelled at it "Oh yeah! And she thinks she won't talk to me? I'm the head boy! No one ignores me!" Eventually, he was collapsed into tears, banging his feet against the stone wall, body racking in a way that was truly childish. He punched the ledge until his knuckles went bloody.
That night was truly a miracle, because when Philip passed out on the ledge, he somehow didn't fall to his death, like he probably should have. He was also lucky when, the next morning, he wasn't woken up by a prefect or a professor, but instead a pretty girl in the year below. In his hung-over state, Christine led him back to his room, getting rid of the bottle (which was somehow now empty), tucked him into bed, and disappeared into his bathroom to return with medicine and a cold washrag, placed over his forehead.
"Wow, you're so nice," he whispered as she turned to leave. She laughed a light laugh, and in that moment, he thought he might be in love. Later in the day when he saw her at lunch with her boyfriend of two years whom he had forgotten, he felt embarrassed for the first time in a long time. Embarrassment turned to annoyance which morphed into resentment, and by the end of the day, as he lay in bed trying to rid Lily and Ava from his mind, he had decided that Christine was actually the devil incarnate.
Lily drank three coffees and two teas the Sunday before her potions exam.
For anyone who had seen Lily the past couple of weeks, they had definitely noticed the change: first of all, no hoodie, except after school and on weekends. Her hair was always dirty or in a bun, and she could always be found at the library, nose stuck in a book. Sometimes you could see yellow or pink or green highlighter streaked and smudged across her hands and sometimes her face.
She didn't seem stressed or nervous—for the first time, she had purpose. She was focused, calm, and steady. She flipped through pages with an assurance and interest that never was connected with Lily Potter—perhaps with Molly Weasley or Rose Weasley, perhaps Albus, but never Lily.
Acing her potions final was the perfect opportunity to get her mind off of… other things.
Never before had Lily applied herself so much or thrown herself into something as much as she was for this potions final. She hardly slept, and the line of empty cups to the right of where she was set up in a far corner of the library with her notes attested to this.
Her brain felt fried. Every single thing she had ever known had been forgotten and replaced with potions. Potions, potions, and more potions. She couldn't remember her mum's middle name, but she knew every single ingredient that went into a Girding Potion, and in what order and quantity. She felt prepared, which was so much farther than where she had started—with her crumpled, lacking notes stuffed in a bag, and a vague idea of a section of the library where potion-making books were. Now she frequented this particular section of the library, with clean, detailed notes and a cemented study routine broken by intervals for snacks and highly-caffeinated hot beverages.
Lily checked her watch, saw that it was eleven at night, and felt something spread through her chest. It was a warmth—no, it was a heat—that permeated and wrapped around her heart so tightly her breath left her and her limbs tingled with an excitement and nervousness she hardly ever felt. It just wasn't in Lily's nature to be nervous or excited—apathetic, maybe. Bored, yes. This feeling trumped all of that.
It was time. She had set a mental alarm to go to bed at eleven, and now there was nothing left to do but go to bed, get a good night's sleep (finally), and get up at eight for her potions final. She had truly done everything she could. She had studied her arse off and stuffed her brain full of information beyond what the review that Slughorn had passed out during class had outlined. For the past month, she had worked harder than she ever had, and now it was finally over. All there was left to do was rest.
Walking back to Gryffindor Tower was excruciating; she wanted that test in her hands right now, just to get it over with. Her bones fell to pieces as she fell into bed, and her brain seemed to sink down a drain with all the dirty water in the imaginary sink of her throbbing head. She didn't even get a chance to change out of her school clothes before she was softly snoring, bed still made beneath her, dreaming about a bath tub filled with the most powerful love potion on earth. She was sinking into the pink, sparkly bubbles, warmth surrounding her like she was in a womb. Her eyes slid closed in pure ecstasy as she took a breath in of sickly sweet… what was that smell…?
Dream Lily opened her eyes as she finally recalled the smell—weed. Across the tub, there he sat—Philip, smiling at her with his signature devilish smile. Lily felt herself being pulled under the bath water, the amortentia filling her lungs, and she couldn't make it stop.
"And as the long, winding road stretches ahead of us, we truly can look back at the road we've walked so far and feel appreciative for all the love and support we've received. Thank you," Ava spoke into the microphone before her, looking radiant in soft pink flowing robes.
Lily rolled her eyes. What love? Philip didn't love Ava, and he didn't love her either.
Lily sat at the back of the audience with her parents on one side of her and Albus on the other, watching James graduate. If Ava ever stops fucking yammering about roads, Lily thought bitterly. At least Philip's speech was over. That had truly been torture, to watch him flash his charming smile into the audience, intensely meeting her eyes at several points, throwing out witty comments and making the crowd chuckle in approval. If only they knew.
James made his way across the stage once they called his name, shaking McGonagall's hand and accepting his diploma. He held it in the air before walking off, waving it towards his family and causing McGonagall to angrily shoo him off with a smack of her wand. However, the admonishment didn't stop him from waving the rest of the way across the stage, or Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter to whoop and holler from the back row. Rose covered her chuckle, leaning forward to meet eyes with Lily and laugh. Lily smirked and rolled her eyes, but Albus was into it too, yelling "Yeah, Jamie!"
The graduating class was small; therefore, Lily didn't have to sit long during the ceremony, her eyes flickering over to the very smug and happy-looking Philip. He made her sick.
The banquet afterward was held in the Great Hall, but friends and family mingled with the graduates before heading off to eat. Lily stood in a circle with Albus, her mum and dad, and James. James was bragging towards a chagrined Albus, laughing at him and saying "you still have another year, aw wittle Al has another year of homework and school and I get to—,"
He was finally cut off when someone appeared, throwing his arm around James' shoulder in a friendly greeting. Lily almost gasped out loud; it was Philip, grinning at James like they were best friends. She felt her body grow cold and suddenly wasn't sure where to look, not wanting to see Philip, but unable to look away from his painfully beautiful face.
"Hi, James. Congrats," Philip said, his eyes not so much as glancing toward her. To Lily's surprise, James smiled back, as if they really were friends, thanking him and introducing him to their mum and dad.
"Oh, and this is my little sister, Lily," James introduced, waving toward her and making her face grow hot. She felt on the spot, uncomfortable in what she felt was a now much-too-small formal black dress, face feeling heavy in what she thought had only been a little bit of cover-up and mascara. Lily cringed in anticipation of what he could possibly say in response.
"Of course I know Lily," Philip said, flashing them all a winning smile and making her nostrils flare in a brief flash of anger. "I tutored her in potions."
"What?" Lily and her parents said at the same time. To Lily's shock, Harry looked impressed, and Ginny looked ecstatic.
"Didn't you hear? She got a perfect score on her potions exam. We worked really hard for it," Philip explained, moving toward Lily and placing a platonic, condescending hand on her shoulder. Her whole body went stiff. "She's going to pass for the year!"
"Wow, Lily! That's amazing! Why didn't you tell us? I thought you'd have to redo the year! Oh, Philip, you saved us," Ginny gushed.
"This is great news! Good job, Lily. I didn't think it was possible," Harry said, nodding at Philip in approval even as he spoke to Lily.
"What?" Lily spat. "Of course I cou—," but Harry quickly backtracked.
"No, I didn't mean you couldn't do it, I just meant—I just meant to say—," he sighed, looking to his wife. She rolled her eyes, refusing to help him out of the hole he'd dug for himself. "What I'm trying to say is that a tutor was a great idea. We owe you, Philip."
"Did you pay him, Lily?" Ginny asked, nudging Harry, who was picking up her intention and digging out his wallet.
"Yes, what's your rate, Philip?" Harry asked.
Everything was happening so fast, Lily felt she might fall over. Suddenly money was being shoved in Philip's face, he was refusing it, they were exchanging phone numbers for further tutoring in the following year with promise of pay, and an open invitation to dinner with the Potters' was mentioned. Lily felt her breathing grow so fast she felt her head spin. What was happening? What the hell was happening?!
Philip was being so fucking humble, too. He deserved an Oscar.
Lily couldn't get to the Great Hall fast enough.
All through dinner, she couldn't relax. She felt eyes on her back, and she knew who it was that was looking. She tried to remind herself that it didn't matter; that she had earned that passing grade herself and it didn't matter if Philip took credit. She knew.
In the middle of dinner, she left to go to the bathroom, but as she was leaving she saw Philip get up and follow her out. She began to walk faster, but she knew he'd be able to catch up no matter what. He could wiggle his way out of any situation, and could wiggle his way back in just as easily.
As soon as she was out the door and around the corner, she was being pushed up against the wall and kissed like Philip had this one last day to live. He grabbed her face with forceful fingers, stroking her sides and chest and grabbing at her hair while they kissed. Lily kissed him back hard, biting his lip and shivering as she groaned. He nudged her legs apart with a knee, pressing his thigh between them and rubbing at her sweet spot. They pushed and pulled their way into a broom closet, panting and holding each other so tight neither could breathe properly. They slid to the floor, and despite hygiene, tore each other's clothes off. As their bodies connected and slid in rhythm together, Lily pulled away from his lips and whispered, "I hate you."
Philip snarled, grabbing her face and pushing harder and faster into her until she was whining and shrieking in pleasure. After a while of this, he gradually slowed, his breath mingling with hers, and they rolled over so she was on top. Lily stopped for a moment, unsure. As many times as they'd had sex, she'd never been in a position of dominance.
"Go ahead, Lily. Hate me. Show me," he said. He smiled a grin up at her that struck a nerve. She wanted to show him she hated him. I hate him.
She grabbed him by the neck, her thumbs pressing into the sides of his jaw, and began to ride him, slowly, just to gauge his reaction. He let out a long sigh, his eyes rolling back, and he grabbed at her hips, loving the feeling.
"Is this you hating me, Lily? Because it feels more like you love me," he croaked. Lily's heart beat faster, and she moved her hips faster, pressing harder into his neck, leaning forward to bite at his lip. She wanted to draw blood. She wanted to hate him.
"I hate you," she moaned, giving up on moving her hips and bouncing on him instead. He grinned at her, seemingly seeing through her in a way that angered her even more. "I hate you." Her voice was weak. She was weak.
He rolled her back over, holding the back of her neck up so tenderly she felt her eyes water. Their eyes met with a sort of fire she was sure he never could've felt with anyone else. How could anyone connect this way, like they did? How could any other couple bind and tangle in the passion and fury that they did? She didn't think it was possible for anyone to feel such desire.
Philip moved thrust forward, holding her body with his arms, his head on her shoulder, face buried in her messy hair. A gentle hand stroked her hair away from her ear, whispering into it, "No one can make you feel this way. Only me, Lily. Only I can love you like this." His sentence trailed off into breaths, and Lily was grateful he had stopped talking, because she felt she might fall apart in his arms from his voice alone. He had never mentioned love around her. He was careful not to.
"You love me?" she whispered in response, her voice choked with emotion. Philip yanked on her hair so that her head came back and his eyes met hers. His brown eyes burned, his pupils so wide they appeared black.
He slowed until he finally finished.
Philip stood up, pulled his clothes back on, and left before Lily could even think of anything to say.
The whole night, Lily cried. She spent James' graduation party in her room, hugging her pillow and grieving over her lost love. Her foolish love. She hated him.
The next morning, Philip received an owl post signed by Lily with only two words written: It's over.