Hello again! I has so surprised by the positive reviews I got for the first chapter.. It was really amazing! For the anon reader that asked about James, he will appear once Lily gets back to Hogwarts. I'm so sorry this took me such an absurd amount of time. AP tests and then I got really sick and had massive writers block.. It's no excuse, though. Please forgive me. Let me know what you think!
Chapter Two: Sudden Change
At some point, Lily must have stopped crying and gotten up from the kitchen floor. At some point, she must have washed the salty tears off her face and curled up in her bed. Maybe she had slept, or maybe she had prayed it was a bad dream. Not that she was really aware of it. The next few weeks passed in a blur. She was numb with grief, unable to process even simple conversation. A ghost of a girl. Broken. A mere fragment of what she used to be.
And then came the funeral. It was a dreadfully public ordeal due to the horribly public nature of Paul Evans' death. Murders were not something that were simply forgotten, especially those related to politics. Whereas Lily lost herself in the grief, allowing it to consume her, Petunia Evans simply became more strict and less compassionate. It made sense. The sisters had always been rather opposite. So, as she stormed into her sister's room on the morning of the services, already dressed without a single hair out of place, Petunia felt no pity for the red rimmed and hollowed girl sitting on her bed. The girl who had tried, and failed to sleep since the incident. The girl that wasn't much of a girl at all. At least, no pity that she showed. "Get up!" Petunia snapped, smoothing out her black dress, "I can't believe you're not ready. You're going to be late to your own father's funeral." And with that, she turned on her heel and left Lily's room, slamming the door behind her.
She just felt so... hollow. Like a part of her had been taken away. And it really had. Though she would have never admitted the fact, valuing her own life far too much, Paul had always been her favorite parent. It's not that she didn't love her mother, goodness no, but Lily had always been closer to her father. As a child, she was the stereotypical 'daddy's girl', and while she grew older, Lily idolized and respected her father even more. Without him, she wasn't whole anymore.
Sliding off the bed, Lily pulled her blanket with her, draping it over her shoulders. She avoided the mirrors, not wanting to see her puffy red eyes, and blank expression. Lily dropped the blanket in her doorway as she trudged to the bathroom, quickly stripping off her clothes and stepping into the shower.
The shower, however, no longer retained that therapeutic quality. The once comforting pounding of the water was now a source of nightmares. It only reminded her of that faithful scream. It was the scream that changed everything.
Therefore, she wasted no time lathering the shampoo in her hair. Not even the scent of her favorite shampoo made her feel like herself. Quickly rinsing herself off, Lily turned the water off and wrapped a towel around her body, scampering back to her room. There was no need for more uncomfortable encounters then absolutely necessary.
Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Lily sat back down on her bed, running a hand through her now wet and stringy hair. The pile of letters on her dresser caught her eye, and Lily sighed, attempting to ignore them. After the news of her father's death broke out, Lily had received countless letters of condolences. But they all said the same thing; even those from her closest friends. They were full of sympathy and offers, but none of them really meant anything. No, Lily had actually thrown most of them out; their insincere words making her feel rather sick.
Lily had insisted that none of her friends come to the funeral. She didn't want them around at all. In fact, since the incident, she'd had minimal contact with all of them. Standing up, Lily walked over to her closet, pulling out the black dress she had worn to her grandfather's funeral the year prior. She slipped it on and, not wanting to bother with her hair, pulled it up into a ponytail. Lily checked the clock, dismayed by what she saw. It was really time to go. She slid on a worn out pair of black flats and grabbed a sweater as she left her room and walked down the stairs.
A dismally somber scene greeted Lily in the kitchen. Her mother leaned over the counter, staring into her coffee. She had clearly been crying, her eyes still puffy and red. Petunia paced back and forth, straightening chairs and running her finger across the table, inspecting for nonexistent dust. Paul's only sibling, Uncle Joel, sat at the table, his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair so furiously he was at risk of pulling it out. And that was it, the last of the Evans family. They had always been a rather small family, and the loss of Paul made that fact even more painstakingly obvious.
"Hello, love." Amelia Evans' voice cracked as she finally noticed her younger daughter's presence. "I suppose it's time for us to go." She nodded towards the other two, standing up and making her way towards the door. The Evans sisters and their uncle followed, no one saying a word.
Lily found the service to be more uncomfortable than sad. The awkward apologies and pity filled glances that she continued to receive were unnecessary and ultimately unwanted. Pity was overrated. It did nothing but make the giver feel better about their self, as if they had actually done something to help.
So, in order to avoid as many people as possible, Lily found herself leaning against a tree, away from the general mass of people. Her eyes were closed and she found herself, rather stereotypically, thinking about death. Was it really just the end, simple as that? Or was there something else out there, something more. Lily knew that wizards had the option to return as a ghost, but what of her father? She believed that such a good man, such an honest and loyal person deserved another opportunity. An opportunity Lily knew he would never receive. These thoughts, however, were interrupted by a slight cough followed by, "Hello."
Opening her eyes, Lily nodded at the boy, not recalling who he was. "Hello," she said curtly. After a few more moments of staring at his face, she realized that he was Samuel Kingston. They had gone to school together when they were young.
"How've you been? I mean, aside from this whole thing, of course." He stammered, the growing cynic in Lily wanted to laugh. How on earth was it proper etiquette to try and pick up the daughter of the recently deceased at his funeral? But, that was clearly what he was trying to do. The way his eyes kept on resting on her chest, the nervous shifting of his weight.. It was pretty pathetic. Yet, Lily leaned slightly closer. Maybe this was what she needed. Maybe it would give her back that lost part of her. Maybe it could melt the ice. So, without thinking very much, Lily leaned even further forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. Noting the shock in his eyes and his parted lips, clearly about to say something, Lily wasted no time in pressing her mouth to his. Words were definitely overrated.
And, of course, he reacted. Sam's hands went to her lower back, pressing her closer to him and soon they were snogging. She was snogging at her father's funeral in front of her remaining family and countless others. That was certainly slag status. And Lily didn't care. She didn't care who saw or what they thought. All she cared about was that Samuel didn't stop doing what thing with his tongue. She ran her hands through his hair, pulling him even closer to her. However, at the condescending cough, Lily pulled away, unfortunately remembering her circumstances.
Petunia stood before her, arms crossed over her chest, lips pursed eyes full of disappointment. Literally quivering with rage she spat, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Acting like some bloody slag at dad's funeral." And Lily was struck by how little she cared. She'd always set so much in store of Petunia's opinion of her, always wanting to impress her older sister. The more tumultuous their relationship grew, the more Petunia declared that she hated her younger sister; the more Lily would try to make her proud. Yet now, her older sister obviously enraged with her Lily found that she couldn't care any less. She would gladly sit through an assortment of lectures if it meant that she could to that again, because already the life was fading. She left less and less whole, less and less like an actual person.
"Whatever, Tuney." Lily shrugged as she grabbed Sam's hand, a look of determination on her face, bewilderment on his. This was clearly much more than he had bargained for. "I'm leaving now." She called out to her sister as she made her way towards the gates, Samuel in tow. Lily hoped that he had a car. Voicing her concerns, he nodded, still looking baffled. "Good," she continued walking. "Take me somewhere," she said, lowering her voice slightly, hoping to sound seductive rather than silly.
Catching the look in his eye and bobbing of his Adam's apple, Lily guessed that she had succeeded. Brilliant.
Sam seemed to finally find his voice again, "What do you have in mind?" They walked through the gate, Sam taking the lead towards his car.
Lily shrugged, "I don't really care all that much. Just as long as we can pick up where we left off." She realized that she sounded like a complete tart, but it didn't faze Lily at all.
He opened the passenger door to a beat up old black car, and Lily slid inside. Sam shut the door, and got in on the driver's side, quickly starting the car. "My place then, yeah?" Lily nodded, and they left the cemetery parking lot.
The drive passed in silence, her fingers tapping against the dashboard, his against her thigh. It was she had signed up for. Lily watched the houses past, childhood memories flashing before her eyes. Yet, none of them meant anything. She felt as if she were watching a movie, listening to a stranger; certainly not reminiscing in her own childhood. She had broken her arm in that park when she was seven, insisting on crossing the monkey bars entirely unassisted. Petunia had carried her all the way home, simultaneously lecturing her on how idiotic she had been. None of it felt real... The memories were as clear as could be, but there was no longer any sort of emotional attachment. It was gone.
The view growing depressing, Lily looked down to his fingers, still running up and down her leg, slowly inching her dress further and further up her thigh. She sighed, leaning over to run her hand through his sandy brown hair. His breathing hitched slightly, and Lily smirked, continuing to muss up his hair. And it wasn't long before they were pulling up into Sam's driveway.
Recalling the stories she had heard from her dorm mates and friends, Lily should have been nervous. Butterflies in her stomach, sweating palms, that sort of things. But there was nothing. Even as Sam brushed her hair of her neck to lightly kiss the underside of her jaw. He got out of the car and walked over to her side, his intention of getting the door for her obvious. Lily, however, didn't give him the chance. Before he was half way around the car, she opened the door and stepped out. This was not, and she did not want it to be, a relationship. Gentlemanly antics wouldn't be necessary.
She took a deep breath, stepping towards him. Her hand trailed down his chest, fingers tapping. "Now, where were we?" It was cheesy and cliched, a line she had learned from some romantic comedy. Yet, he ate it up. Sam leaned forward, bringing his lips down to Lily's. His hands went to her waist, pulling her even closer, hers went to his hair, winding it around her fingers. When they broke apart for air, Sam took her hand, leading her towards and through the front door of his house.
It was nothing special. Lily had always been the sentimental, romantic sort. Previously, her virginity had meant a great deal to her. She had always wanted to save herself. Not necessarily for marriage, but for someone she was completely and utterly in love with. That whole notion flew out the window with her recent actions.
A week had passed, and is was becoming too much for Lily to tolerate. The sheer isolation that she felt was overwhelming. She was always alone. Petunia never left Vernon's side; Lily had heard whisperings of plans to elope. Amelia left her two daughters alone, preferring to find company in her ever faithful glass of gin, her sole confident since her husband's unexpected death. Lily spent most of her time alone, wasting her days away in her room and wandering about her neighborhood aimlessly by the nights. Isolation had become her norm, and she found herself deliberately avoiding everyone. There was no comfort in the pretense of others; in fact, she felt even more alone when with people than she did when alone. Not even sleep was comforting to Lily. Her dreams were far too unsafe and insane for her liking, so she usually remained awake for far too long.
After a few days, Sam had gotten the message. He had stopped ringing the doorbell, stopped sitting on his front porch, waiting for her to leave the house. Perhaps he felt guilty. Or maybe used. Lily didn't care much, either way. But, in his absence, the emptiness had begun to return. Though it pained her to admit it, she needed him. Not Sam specifically, of course, but someone. Lily Evans needed someone, someone that she would not let herself have.
Her usual trip downstairs had a different result one night. She crinkled her nose at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. Amelia had progressed from glasses to bottles, and a half finished bottle of gin sat on the floor next to her, keeping her company even in sleep. Spurred by a sudden impulse, Lily walked towards her mother's sleeping figure and picked up the bottle of gin. The sour stench of alcohol filled her nose, as she eyed the clear liquid. Lily was familiar with butterbeer, but tended to steer clear of the stronger stuff. But here she was, with her mother's gin in her hand. Maybe it was merely curiosity, or perhaps a desire to forget... Regardless, Lily took a deep breath and brought the bottle to her lips. She offered herself a silent cheers and tipped the bottle back. The alcohol burned, of course, and she struggled not to cough, afraid of waking her mother up. It was entirely unpleasant, yet she took another sip. And another. She made her way back to her room, bottle in hand.
For the first time in weeks, Lily awoke with a plan. And a minor hangover. Her alcohol addled subconscious had cooked it up as she slept, and she now eagerly awaited the evening. A flick of her wand started some music and she began to dig through her closet, looking for a specific combination of items. A pair of fishnets from Halloween, army boots her confused grandfather had given her, a skirt that had been long enough before her last growth-spurt, and a substantial v-neck were pilled on her bed. And the rest was history.