And this is unexpectedly updated….
The Setting: The year is 2019. It is early summer. Ted is twenty-one. Lily is eleven, going to Hogwarts for her first-year that fall. Also, Molly – Percy's and Audrey's daughter – is called Pat, because her middle name is Patricia.
Chapter Two – Order:
Everyone was quiet. No one made a sound. Not even to shuffle their feet, or gently clear their throat, they didn't make a sound. The wind was quiet. The sky was quiet. The birds were quiet. The bright yellow wildflowers swaying in the grass were quiet.
Lily held her breath. She felt her mum's hand – cold, so cold, so quiet – tightly holding hers. She saw sunlight glint off her father's glasses and the moisture in his eyes. She saw all her aunts, uncles, and cousins, standing like solemn, marble, unmoving pillars around the grave.
Uncle George, who always smiled – it was so wrong that he wasn't smiling – was standing directly across from her. He had his arm slung around Aunt Angie's shoulder, and his other arm holding Roxy tightly to his side. Roxy's twin brother Fred was standing slightly behind his father, pressing up against him shoulder to shoulder, as if to reassure Uncle George that he was still there. Children were clustered closely to parent's sides, held near, held protected, because children were so precious, so, so easy to lose.
Lily stared at Uncle George's quiet, calm, almost blank face and wondered if he was remembering his brother.
Teddy was standing on Lily's father's other side. Lily snuck a look at him, trying to catch sight of his face. All she could see was his bowed, brown-hair covered head. She wondered if he was crying. Lily had never seen Teddy cry. He wasn't supposed to cry. It violated the natural order of things. She didn't know what to do.
She longed to reach out to him, to gather his hands in her own and to – to what? To whisper that everything was alright, Teddy, please don't be sad, please, please don't be sad.
She wanted to hold him, to feel his arms around her like he'd used to when she was littler, and he'd toss her into the air. She'd shriek in delight and land back in his arms, burry her face in his chest, feel his laughter vibrate through her ears….
She couldn't imagine what he was feeling. Victoire – Victoire had been Lily's cousin but Victoire had been Teddy's girlfriend. Teddy had loved her. Teddy had – Lily couldn't imagine what he was feeling.
Across the silence, sounding muffled yet indecently loud, Grandma Molly started to cry. Lily looked at her and saw Grandpa Arthur hug her with one arm, silent tears streaming down his own cheeks. Lily wished they wouldn't. Lily didn't like to see people cry. She didn't like to hear it. She didn't –
She wished it wasn't so quiet. She wished someone would say something. She wished someone would laugh. She wished she could laugh. But that heavy, gaping, pressing hole in her chest where Victoire used to be was tripping up laughter. It would bubble up from her stomach but then fall into the hole and be lost.
Lily felt sick. She felt her eyes burn. But she blinked. She didn't like to cry. Had already cried. She didn't need to cry.
People behind them started to drift away, friends of the family and friends of Victoire, some of them Lily didn't know. Lily hoped they would leave soon. Her legs were starting to hurt from standing. She wished she was younger, still small enough to turn to her dad and whisper please, hold me, lift me, carry me.
People stopped on the way out to hug Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill. They said in soft voices how sorry they were, how wonderful Victoire had been, how it got better as time went on. Sometimes Uncle Bill clasped their hands and thanked them. Aunt Fleur didn't do anything. She stood quietly next to her husband and stared over everyone's heads, as if she couldn't even see them. She was pale, almost glistened in the sunlight.
Lily had always thought her aunt was one of the most beautiful things alive.
Aunt Fleur didn't look old. She didn't even look sad. She looked like one of those pure white, carved statues in a park – expressionless, except for the burning in her eyes.
Lily clung to her mother's hand as they made their way out of the graveyard. Al and James followed behind them. It was unnatural; Lily had never before seen her brother's so quiet.
Everything was quiet. Everything was still. Everything was so, so agonizingly wrong.
Her dad was walking ahead of her mum, one arm around Teddy's shoulders. Teddy looked so tall. He was taller than Lily's dad. Lily had never before realized how tall Teddy was. His brown-hair, ugly, terribly plain, dry-dirt-colored hair, glinted with touches of copper in the light.
They all gathered at the Burrow for lunch, just the family. Lily wasn't hungry. She had never understood why it was called the Burrow. A burrow was something dirty and wet, a hole in a hill where badgers, or rabbits, or snakes lived. The Burrow wasn't like that. Sure it was messy, and smelled a bit earthy, but it was so large, and cramped, and usually so lively –
But it wasn't. Not to today it wasn't. It was cramped and noiseless and no one laughed.
Uncle George was finally smiling again, but it looked so false Lily could hardly stand the sight of it. Pat and Lucy found her, the cousins Lily always hung out with. Lucy – little, immature, flighty Lucy – suggested they play a game. Lily almost snapped at her that no, are you crazy or something? We're at a funeral, but had to remind herself that Lucy was only seven and probably didn't understand.
Lily didn't understand.
Some of the older kids suggested Quidditch and Uncle Charlie said that that was a good idea. Lily didn't go out with them, marveling at how they couldn't realize that that was wrong.
They couldn't play Quidditch. They couldn't play games. Not when Victoire was dead. Not when they were just come from her funeral.
Lily left her mum and dad, who were eating with the other grownups and talking in quiet, gentle voices. She went to sit on the front step. She saw Louis tossing the Quaffle back and forth with Rose, dodging Fred. She didn't know where Dom was. She couldn't understand how Louis could play, could smile when Victoire had been his sister.
Lily didn't understand.
She didn't understand what had happened. She didn't understand why her mother had told Lily to leave Teddy alone, he needed to be alone. Lily didn't want to be alone. She wanted to be held by someone. She wanted someone to have the answers, to tell her the answers.
She wanted to know. She wanted to be told that everything was going to be alright. She wanted to crawl into Teddy's lap like she had when she was a little girl and have him read her stories, to hear his voice close to his ear, to hear the laughter against her hair. She – it was almost worse than to have Victoire dead, having it hurt Teddy.
Lily had never before known how much she loved him.
She never knew that this was what love was, wanting more than anything to make that person stop hurting, to take away that pain, this utter uselessness she felt when she realized there was nothing she could do.
If she could bring Victoire back just for Teddy, Lily thought she would. Just so he might smile again, just so his hair might once again be blindingly lime green.
It hurt. It hurt to love someone.
Lily watched her older cousins playing Quidditch, zooming across the blue, cloud striped sky, and wondered how they managed it. She didn't understand how people could be so carefree, how they could hide away their emotions with a broomstick under their fingers.
Her own fingers burned to hold a broomstick. She longed to feel the wind slip through her hair, to feel it whip at her eyes until it ripped out her tears. But it would be wrong. It would be so terribly wrong.
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She smelled the light whiff of roast beef and steak and kidney pie drifting through the doorway.
She heard someone scream:
"I hate you! I hate you, you monster!"
Lily jumped up from her perch and turned to stand in the doorway, heart-hammering, not thinking.
"You – it's all your fault! You as good as murdered her!"
Lily tripped over the threshold.
"Dom…" a half-hearted chiding, a bewildered, desperate, ignorant plea. Lily recognized her Uncle Bill's voice.
"Why are you even here? You didn't love her! You couldn't have loved her!"
"Dom, stop it…."
"Let go, Dad! How can you forgive him? How can you stand to have him in the same house? He killed your daughter!"
"Dom, please…don't."
"No, let 'er speak!"
Lily clung to the rim of the kitchen door, staring at the scene in front of her. There was Uncle Bill. There was Lily's father. There was Aunt Hermione. There was Uncle Percy. There was Dominique, red-faced, tears streaming down her face, not pretty like she usually was. There was Aunt Fleur, stepping forward, a pale, calm, expressionless, murderous face, and finger outstretched, quivering with rage and sorrow – love that Lily had never contemplated. There was Teddy, pressed against the counter, staring in wide-eyed terror at Aunt Fleur.
"She eez right!" Aunt Fleur shrieked. Her white-blond pulsed over her back as she faltered forward. "You did kill 'er! You killed my daughter!"
"Fleur." Uncle Bill's voice wavered. Lily couldn't breathe.
No. Not him. Uncle Bill couldn't cry. He couldn't. Can't. Can't possibly.
Lily heard shuffling behind her and realized her cousins were coming in from outside, roused by the shouts. Her other aunts and uncles were coming in from the sitting room, were gathering behind her in speechless shock.
"Ow could you? 'Ow could you 'ave been so foolish? You should 'ave known! You should 'ave never touched her! Never 'ave been near her!"
"Fleur." Aunt Hermione stepped forward, held out a hand. Aunt Fleur pushed her away.
Teddy seemed to sink, seemed to dissolve against the background, seemed to go whiter and whiter until Lily was sure he was going to fade into the air, transparent.
"You should never 'ave been allowed to see her! Ow could we have allowed you to be near our daughter? You – you – it eez your fault! If it wasn't for you, my daughter would still be alive!"
Lily wanted to clap her hands over her ears. She wanted to scream along with her Aunt Fleur and burst into tears. Instead she watched in stunned, terrified disbelief. She had never seen Aunt Fleur lose control like this.
"Fleur, be quiet!" Uncle Bill rushed forward. He forced himself between Aunt Fleur and Teddy, grabbed her arms and pressed her head to his chest.
She screamed into his shirt and dissolved into tears. Teddy pushed himself away from the counter and staggered toward the back door.
"Teddy…." Aunt Hermione's voice was barely above a whisper, a hopeless, useless, clueless whisper.
"Ted –"
"No, Harry." Teddy was shaking. He was shaking. Lily was shaking. Hugo stepped up beside her, mouth hanging open.
"Ted, wait –"
"No, Harry. Let go! Just – just no!" Teddy pulled himself away from Lily's father and walked away. He tripped through the back door, which shut behind him with a rattling slam.
Lily was shaking. She was shaking. She was shaking, shaking, shaking. It wasn't Teddy's fault. Couldn't possibly be Teddy's fault. Oh, please, make it stop.
Aunt Fleur was buried in Uncle Bill's arms, screaming with tears. Lily stared at her, hearing her voice shriek in echoes in Lily's head. She hated her. Lily hated Aunt Fleur for saying such things.
Lies. All of them were lies. It wasn't Teddy's fault that Victoire was dead – wasn't his fault that he had loved her.
Of course Lily couldn't sleep. She rolled beneath her blankets and stuffed her pillow beneath her head, trying to find a comforting crevice in her bed, trying to let this restless, pounding, squirming thing in her stomach ebb away.
Teddy had gone directly to the Potter's, after he had left the Burrow's kitchen. He had locked himself in James' room and not come down for supper. Lily supposed he hadn't anywhere else to go. But she was glad he was there, relieved but she couldn't put her finger on why.
All she knew was that her mother and father had been frantic, but then been relieved, too, when they found out Teddy was there. It was as though they had been afraid…of something. That was disconcerting.
She could hear Al snoring through the wall. Hers and his beds were pushed against the dividing wall of their two rooms. They had used to whisper to each other during the night, just loudly enough so that they could hear but just quiet enough that their parents couldn't. They had stayed up and talked until either had fallen asleep, then all would be quiet. There would be nothing but the sound of her breathing in her ears and the darkness wrapping around her room.
Lily had used to be afraid of the dark. That was why she had used to talk to Al through the wall. It had been comforting to hear his voice, to know someone was there.
She thought of Teddy, in the room across the hall, and wondered if, he too, was still awake. She wondered if he had ever been afraid of the dark, if he was now, if maybe he wanted someone to talk to.
Dimly, from beneath the floor of her room, she heard the unmistakable rush of flames that meant someone had flooed into the kitchen.
"Bill," said her father's voice, muffled by the carpet, pipes, and wood. "Come in. Of course, come in."
Her heart began pounding in her ears, so hard she couldn't hear what her parents and Uncle Bill were talking about. Silently, seamlessly, like she had done so many times when she didn't want anyone to hear she was out of bed, she slid her legs onto the floor and got to her feet. She gently padded across her room, opened her door slowly so it wouldn't creak, and crept down the hall to the stairwell.
Uncle Bill's voice was stiff and oddly restrained sounding, almost like he was angry – but not quite, almost like Uncle Percy sounded when he reprimanded Pat and Lily for playing too loudly. "I came to apologize, Harry, Ginny. I'm sorry about what happened today. Please tell Ted –"
"It isn't your fault, Bill," said Lily's mother, "We understand."
"Fleur apologizes as well," said Uncle Bill, "She didn't mean –"
"We know," said Lily's father.
"Tell Ted, won't you?" said Uncle Bill, "I would myself, but – but I –"
"Ted's beating himself up about it," said Lily's father, "You have no idea what he's going through. He blames himself –"
"I know," said Uncle Bill, "I don't mean to be hard on him. But I – I can't deny that a certain amount of responsibility – I can't forget that certain precautions – so much could have been prevented, Harry –"
"Ted is very much aware of that, Bill." Lily thought her father's voice was unexpectedly hard. Lily tentatively stepped down, clutching the rail tightly, avoiding the spots she knew creaked.
"Harry," said Lily's mother, something in it reminding Lily of the way her mum spoke when she was about to chide James for saying something he shouldn't.
"I'm sorry, Bill," continued Lily's father, "I don't mean to – Ted understands. He understands. I don't want this forever on his shoulders. He's so young – you don't know what he's been going through –"
"I know," said Uncle Bill, almost aggressively, "I'm sorry, Harry, but I know all of this. None of it erases the fact that I've lost a daughter –"
"You weren't the only one who loved Victoire," Lily's father interrupted, "Ted –"
"She was my daughter, Harry!"
"And Ted is my godson." Lily had never heard her father talk like that to Uncle Bill, like he was stern and irrefutable anchored. Lily felt something soar in her chest, something like pride.
"I know," said Uncle Bill. He sounded tired and Lily knew her father had won. "I know, Harry."
"I'm sorry, Bill. Please, this has been hard enough."
"Yes, it has been hard enough. I – maybe I wouldn't feel – but I can't erase the fact that this might have been prevented…."
"It was an accident, Bill."
"It could have been prevented, Harry. Vic –" Uncle Bill's voice broke. Lily felt that blank, pulsing, wild panic rise in her head again, couldn't cry. He couldn't cry. "Victoire might not have died."
"Oh, Bill," said Lily's mother, her voice a gasp through tears. Lily felt her eyes sting. She felt her throat close.
"Please understand," said Uncle Bill, "it isn't that I – that we blame Ted. We don't. I can't deny that I – I might have done something to prevent it, too."
"Don't – don't think like that, Bill," pleaded Lily's mother. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. It was a terrible, terrible, unspeakable accident…."
"And please, Bill," said Lily's father, "we can't let this destroy Ted. I'm his legal guardian and even though he's of-age, I have to think of him."
"I know, Harry," said Uncle Bill, sounding so heavy, so tired. Lily felt a hot tear slip down her cheek and dribble down her chin.
"I love you, Bill," said Lily's mother; Lily could tell by the way her voice was muffled that her mother had buried her face in her brother's chest.
"Thank you," said Uncle Bill. "I'm sorry, again. I –"
"It's alright, Bill," said Lily's mother.
There was another rush of flames, signifying Uncle Bill had left. Lily listened for a moment longer, not able to discern the murmurs of her parent's lowered voices. She rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hands and turned to make her way back to her room.
She jumped and almost fell backwards when she saw Teddy sitting on the top stair, white-faced, brown-haired, and utterly still.
For a moment it appeared as though he didn't see her. Then his eyes drifted to hers, and held there. Lily felt her heart stammer.
He gave her a strange look. His mouth half-way turned up, as if to smile, but he looked like he was in pain. His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes, making the shadows there grow to dark circles; his pupils gleamed in the dim light.
"Tell them in the morning I've gone out, Lil," he told her and stood up. His voice was low, quiet, unreadable.
She stepped against the wall as he passed her on the stair. She saw him hesitate before passing over the kitchen doorway, unwilling to let her parents catch sight of him, she knew.
Lily longed to beg him not to go. She felt a terrible misgiving about the way he had looked at her. She felt the hair on her arms raise in gooseflesh. She felt her stomach twist in horrible, unreasonable fear. Whatever she wanted to say to him was stuck against the block in her throat.
She just stood quietly and watched him leave.
Thank you again for taking the time to read it. I hope you enjoyed; review?