I don't own Harry Potter. Never have, never will.

For the lovely Lovisa's (lowi's) The Title Challenge on HPFC- i got the title from her.

This fic is for Ronnie (love sucks right now) I love you darling; you're amazing, don't ever change. You're one of my closest friends on here, you're my awesomemonument!twinny and I wouldn't give any of that up for the world.

Don't you dare look out your window darling;

Everything's on fire

The war outside our door keeps raging on

Safe and Sound; Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars

She's told herself a million times that she needs to get over him. Fuck, she's tried so hard to get over him, but she can't. He's Scorpius Bloody Malfoy; how is anyone meant to get over him? So he's run off with a cousin that she can barely bear to name, and she just locks herself up in that old drafty house that they used to share.

She drags the green, velvet, moth-eaten curtains across the window, leaving the room in darkness. She doesn't even bother to whisper Lumos; she simply stands by the drapes, feeling how decayed they are, and wishing that she could replace them. Even though he left her the house, she still can't think of it as hers. It's still his house. It's Malfoy Manor. She's not Lily Malfoy any more. She's just little Lily Luna Potter- and she's as lost as she's ever been; if not more so. She replays scenes in her head or where it all went wrong. It's hard to pinpoint an exact date, an exact conversation, an exact argument. The cracks appeared in their foundations, and the walls fell down, and now she's not Mrs Malfoy any more and she never will be again, because she's just Lily Luna Potter, and she's lost in this house that she can't bear to call her own.

Standing there in the pitch dark isn't going to help anything, and she knows that. She knows that she should try and get over him, get out of the house, sell it. But she can't. It's the last thing that she has left of him, and she can't help but try and decipher the meaning of him leaving her the house that was his legacy, the last thing from his deceased parents. She tries to twist it in her mind so that it means he still loves her, but then she dismisses the stupid idea, and laughs at the thought, and laughs at herself; a cold cruel laugh that echoes throughout the dusty, dimly lit halls.

Only then does she light her wand, and steer her way out of the drawing room, leaving it behind, not wanting to dwell on those heavy velvet drapes, and the musty scent that fills the room. She stands in the hallway, and then sinks to the floor. She closes her eyes, and allows herself to remember his scent, his hair, his eyes, his voice. Him, him, him. The way it felt as he kissed her goodnight, the way she'd feel dizzy when she was around him. The way that she'd depended on him. It was gone, but she couldn't help loving him- could she? All she could keep were the memories that hurt to think of, but she kept thinking of anyway, because without them then she was nothing.

She wasn't Lily Malfoy anymore. She knew that. She knew that she was only Lily Luna Potter, and that was it. She used to be something special. A Slytherin. Red headed. Pretty and smart. She'd defied the rules. She'd dated her brother's best friend. She'd gone after what she wanted. Now, what was she without him? She walked to the front windows, and drew the drapes across them. Closing the curtains of the house, trying to almost lock herself in, but not with keys, but with velvet. Trapping herself in this house that held al of the bittersweet memories that she wasn't quite sure she wanted to remember anymore.

It was like some force guided her. The only light came from the tip of her wand, and she could still barely see. She headed up the stairs, and noticed a head of blonde hair in the garden. She blinked, and it was gone. She let out the breath she didn't even realise she'd been holding. It was just a trick her mind was playing on her, she told herself. He'd never be out there, not after he'd left her for R- for her.

The note still lay on the kitchen table, the note that he'd left thirteen days ago, the note that she'd read so many times during those thirteen days. It was crumpled, and had a spillage of black coffee on the edge. It was smoothed out on the table, but anyone could tell from the look of it that it had been crumpled and smoothed out again numerous times.

Lily,

I'm sorry. I know you can't forgive me for what I've done. But the house is yours to keep.

S. H. M

Lily looked down at the note, and didn't let a single tear fall. She was going to be stronger than that. She wasn't going to let him make her cry. He had… he had Her now, and he was happier. She knew she should be happy for him, but, fuck, she wasn't. He'd left her, he'd left her, and she was wandering around an empty house, smelling mothballs, trailing her fingers along dusty surfaces and holding in her tears.

She clutched her wand more tightly in her hand, and looked down to it. A single thought crossed through her mind that made her shudder. She placed her wand on the table, leaving it there, but her eyes flicking back to it, again and again. Once she'd thought of it, she couldn't get it out of her mind. It scared her, the thought. It scared her that it would be so easy, should she choose to obey those voices in her head. She grabbed her wand. One quick movement, Lily, a whispered spell. She brushed off the thoughts whirring round her head, trying to pretend that she wasn't going crazy.

"Incendio," she muttered, pointing her wand at the note he had left, and watching it burn, "Evanesco." she whispered, ridding the table of the ashy traces of the letter.

She made her way to the drawing room, wand still clutched tight in her hand, walking over the moth-eaten velvet curtains once more. She drew back the velvet curtains, and saw the black, cold night outside. She looked desperately, hoping for another look of a head of blonde hair, but knowing that it was an illusion. She wasn't going to see him. She raised herself up onto the window sill, and sat down on the cold, thin ledge. She bunched her knees up, and drew the curtain, isolating herself from the rest of the house.

He saw her from the grounds. He watched her petite figure climb onto the window sill, and watched her as she closed the curtain behind her, isolating herself on the cold windowsill. He watched her shiver, and wished that he could work up the courage to say something. He watched her; too scared to say or do anything. He couldn't. Not after what he'd done to her. It took him by surprise as the green light flashed from the window, and her body slumped against the window pane. Scorpius Malfoy could only stand and stare.

Please do not favourite without reviewing. I'd appreciate any reviews, as I usually write RoseScor and this is quite a big step for me; to write LilyScor. And, um, I know it's a little depressing.