For Harry

by Maraudette21

She didn't know if he would ever read them. She didn't know why it was so important to her. She didn't even know if they were necessary. All Lily knew was that she wanted to be there. She wanted to experience every milestone in her son's life, and help him through. But she couldn't. So she wrote the letters. A series of letters from Lily to Harry. R&R, please!

2. When You're Feeling Sad

Dearest Harry,

I probably should've been more specific with this title. I know its sort of vague-so I'll explain. The purpose of this letter is not to comfort you when you're feeling sad over any old thing. So, if thats why you've opened it, then please put it away now. Because the type of sad that I'm trying to help you with isn't the sort of emotion that results from mundane everyday happenings. You don't feel it when you get a T on one of your OWLs, or when you get into a fight with your best mate. Its not the sort of thing that a lot of people experience, but you, my dear, are going to be one of the unlucky few who does.

I'm talking about the pain you feel when you lose someone you love. I was fortunate enough that I didn't have to feel it when I was so very young, and when I got older, I knew how to deal with it. In the world I live in now, the world that so many people have died to keep you from living in, loss is a common occurence. I've dealt with it a handful of times, not so many that I'm used to it, per se, but at least enough that I'm not so shocked anymore when it comes.

The first was Sev. I told you about him in the last letter, love, do you remember? He was my best friend. Was being the key word. He's not anymore. Oh, he's still alive, so I haven't lost him in that sense, for which I am greatful, because it would have been infinitely more painful to lose all hope. As it stands now, there is only a shred left, a shred that I'm too ashamed most of the time to acknowledge, but I'll do it here, because if there's a chance it might make you feel better, there's very little I wouldn't do at this point.

This loss probably would've been the easiest to deal with, if it hadn't been first. The first is always the hardest, and I'm not entirely convinced that if this one hadn't served as that painful benchmark in my life that it would have been nearly as hard. The thing is, I loved Sev. I loved him so much; not in the way some people thought, but it was love all the same, and it hurt to have to let him go. But I was sixteen when our friendship ended-inexperienced, naive, and overly emotional. I thought that I was right about everything-and when I had an opinion on someone or something, anything, it took a lot to persuade me to change it. I didn't like to consider the possibility that I was wrong-to entertain the notion that I didn't already know everything there was to know about the world. This would become a problem in a few years, a big one, but up until then, it had never really cause too much trouble. To tell you the truth, I was right, most of the time, but I was too stubborn. I was blind-especially when it came to Severus. For years, people had been asking me why I hung out with him, telling me I could do better, but this only strengthened my resolve. In my mind, he was still the sweet little boy who had saved me from myself, the one who introduced me to this grand new world in which I was flourishing so well, and that I loved so much. To be honest, what happened between us probably could've been prevented-if I'd been paying attention to the warning signs. I could've bowed out gracefully, blamed our seperation on our conflicting personalities- the particulars of which had became apparent as we grew older- or maybe the fact that we were in seperate houses, and never got to see each other anymore. Not that any of that was true, but whatever. The fact remains that I didn't, and that what should've been completley obvious to me at that point came as a shock, making it all the nastier.

A part of me is glad that it didn't play out that way. After all, I would've only been lying to myself, and no good can ever come from that. But more so, the abrubtness of it all woke me up, forced me to acknowledge all of the ugliness that was going on around me, and to embrace reality more readily. It seems less pathetic to blame it all on a single incident, though thats not exactly right either, and it made me feel strong to take all the pain in one huge dose, rather than dole it out over small intervals whenever I felt like it. I think that otherwise, things would've carried on in that awkward manner for much, much longer, and I would've missed all the opportunities for love so much stronger than what I felt for Severus. If I'd never ended it with him, I would've of never truly opened up to the girls, or your Uncle Padfoot. Not even your father. I would've gone a different way entirely, been living a completely different life right now. I might even be alive as you read this, which you wouldn't be doing, because you wouldn't have to be worrying about this type of pain so early, and if by some sick twist of fate you did, I would be there to explain it to you. Sev, however good his intentions, was shielding me from all of this, and from who I truly was. Fate had me going a different way, a way that would eventually carry me away from him.

But like I said, I was too stubborn to realize it at first. I refused to believe that sometimes, love all by itself isn't enough. Outside influences affected our relationship, affected all of my relationships, and continue to affect them, much more than I was willing to admit.

It all started around fourth year. Voldemort was on the rise, becoming more of a factor in my everyday life. So far, it was just that I read about him more often in the papers, that the professors would snap at us more than usual , and that some people, the sort of people who I'd never been stupid enough to try and form connections with anyways (thank Merlin) were acting differently toward me- and toward every other person like me. I didn't think about it much, in fact, I made it a point not to, but I was definitely concious of it, and I knew that, sooner or later, it was going to hit the fan. Unfortunately, I was right. When I was fourteen, You-Know-Who set his sights on Hogwarts. It was the ultimate target, and probably where he'd been heading all along. If you took down Dumbledore, and gained control of the most famous wizarding school in the world, all in one move, not only did you prove your status as the most powerful wizard of all time (don't get any ideas!) but you also stood to gain the support of all of the students there, and increase your number of followers by thousands. Two birds with one stone, an attack on the institution was inevitable. But thats just it; Voldemort didn't attack- at least not right away. He's not a stupid man, as much as I'd like to be able to claim otherwise. Sick, twisted? Yes. Evil? Voldemort is probably the only truly evil being to ever inhabit the earth. His soul has been distorted to the point of no return. He is not capable of genuine remorse, and he will never be able to truly care about anyone. He is a monster, not even truly human anymore. But dumb is one thing he has never been. He knew that he didn't have the numbers or skill within those numbers to take down what is probably one of the most secure places in the entire Wizarding World, even more so than the Ministry of Magic, which he hadn't been able to overrun yet, either. He knew that he needed more support, and so he decided to infect us, destroy us from the inside out. He wanted to break our ranks, seperate us from each other, make it so that we were not really allies; so that we did not really trust each other. He went after the one wink link we had- the students. His plan was to turn brother against brother, friend against friend. He succeeded.

It probably began far before I noticed it, which was just a few months after term started. Some of the Slytherins-I don't think it was happening in any of the other houses yet- were acting strangley. That is, more strangely than usual. A few of them- the ones who came from the old families, with surnames like Black and Rosier, which commanded the rest of our respect and stopped us from asking too many questions- began to skip classes, missing two in a day at the least, and not being seen for an entire 24 hours at a time in the most extreme cases. They were mostly boys, mostly pureblood, and it didn't take long for us common people to get hip. By the time they started to host official meetings, and refusing to wear any of the short sleeve uniform shirts (Dwayne MacDougal even went so far as to quit his Quidditch team when they wouldn't let him wear a long sleeve jersey), it was pretty obvious what was going on. You-Know-Who was recruiting.

Things instantly went into a panic. The three houses whose numbers hadn't been infiltrated yet banded together, turning the Slytherins into outcasts. They didn't care-they continued about their business of hexing muggle borns in the corridors and spouting off rubbish about the importance of a clean family line during breakfast in the Great Hall- and there was nothing we could do about it. It was hard to distinguish who was an object of His interests and who wasn't, seeing as we had seperated ourselves from them from them so completeley. We even went so far as to refuse to sit next to them in classes; you could never be too careful, and the professors were forced to comply, or else they'd never get there lessons done. It became increasingly difficult to mantain my close relationship with Sev ( we were a big source of scandal- the Muggleborn and the Reclusive Slytherin, oh my!) and it didn't help that he was basically the Hogwarts equivalent of Undesirable Number One.

It was those friends of his. When he wasn't hanging out with me, he spent most of his time with these two horrible boys- Eddie Mulciber and Jack Avery, for whom there was no question. They were prime examples of the type of people who you should not be hanging around with- both came from known blood purist families and both had a shifty look about them that suggested they were up to no good. They did nothing to dispute their reputations, and it was pretty much accepted as fact. They were Death Eaters-two of about ten who everybody knew were guilty. I heartily dissproved of Sev's close relationship with them, but he didn't care. 'Who else am I going to hang out with, Lil?' he asked, whenever I brought it up, 'you're not always around, you know. They're pretty brill guys, once you get to know them. I don't know why you have your knickers in a twist." He dismissed my concerns, but I was still worried. Sev was such a smart guy, no doubt the Death Eaters would see him as a valuable asset-what if Avery and Mulciber were trying to win points with their comrades? What if they succeeded? What if they changed him? The rest of the student body had these same questions, but they weren't as willing to risk it. To them, he was a lost cause. Once they got their hooks in you, they were never letting go.

It happened slowly. So slowly, in fact, that I didn't even notice at first. Severus would sneer whenever a muggleborn asked a question about something magical, or 'accidentaly' trip one of them when we passed them in the halls. This only happened once or twice a month, not a common occurence, and not something that I payed much attention to. My friends were more observant, and tried to warn me, but, as usual, I ignored them. I knew they didn't like Sev, and I thought they were just using this as an excuse to pull us apart. After all, Severus was never openly rude towards me, and perhaps his dislike for those people had nothing to do with the blood running through their veins. Perhaps he just didn't like them. I became very upset when anyone suggested otherwise, and pretty soon, they learned to just keep quiet. They figured I would learn my lesson soon enough, and I did.

It was just after our DADA OWLs, the last of the lot, and the majority of the fifth years were outside, discussing the various questions and celebrating the fact that the all of the grueling examinations were finally over. I was by the lake, chatting with all of the usual suspects-when Marley got this really strange look on her face and pointed at something going on behind me. 'Umm, Lil,' she said, looking worried. 'You're not gonna like this.' So I turned around, curious as to what was making her act so oddly. And do you know what I saw? I saw your father, my arch-nemesis at the time (thats a whole nother story, I'll get to that in another letter) dangling poor Severus by his ankles with his wand, backed my his three partners in crime, only one of which had the decency to look slightly uncomfortable (Remus, of course).

Now, if I hated your dad, it was nothing compared to how Sev felt about him. They absolutley loathed each other. James was one of the people who ostracised the Slytherins-and while his intentions were good, he went about it in a completely inappropriate manner. Unlike most of our classmates, who simply avoided each other like the plague, he made his mission to personally antagonize each and every one of them. I can't even say how many times he was caught sneaking out for a midnight duel that year, or slipping strange concoctions he and his mates had cooked up into their tables' supply of rice just before dinner time. And his main target? My best friend. They'd never gotten along, on the contrary, they'd always been bitter enemies, but when Sev showed an interest in the dark arts, it only got worse. The two of them bickered constantly; purposely spilling vials of acid on each other's hand in Potions class, shooting each other dirty looks across the classroom for no apparent reason, and always expecting me to settle their stupid arguments. They were ridiculous. Both of them. I'm not going to pretend that Potter was the only one at fault. But that didn't mean I was just going to sit around and watch him torture Severus without cause. He didn't deserve it-and I sure as hell wasn't going to sit around and let it happen when there was something to be done!

So I got up, and I stormed over there. I was fed up with their petty little fued. By then, things had gotten worse between me and Sev; we weren't spending as much time together, and his lapses were becoming more and more frequent. He was grumpy, and moody, and he had even begun to miss some classes-his behavior was such that I just couldn't turn a blind eye any longer. Still, I refused to let him go. I tried to breach the subject a few times, but he always either rushed right off, muttering some pathetic excuse as he went, or quickly changed the subject. I thought I could persuade him to change, that maybe my old childhood friend would come back to me if I just talked to him about it. I was a bit of a fool.

By the time I made my way over to their spot underneath the beech tree, a small crowd of onlookers had assembled. They stared at me as I marched past- but I didn't care. Instantly, I started screaming my head off- I've always had a bit of a temper, but my insults didn't seem to affect your father. Instead of dropping Severus like I'd requested, he simply smirked at me in that irritating way of his and told me that he'd let him go only if I agreed to go on a date with him. He'd been asking me all year, and though it'd always annoyed me, I'd been perfectly civil, declining his offers politely time after time. Apparently, he hadn't gotten the message. Something about the way he did it this time-the way he looked at me, really ticked me off. I snapped. Never have I ever been as rude to someone in my entire life as I was just then, and I guess I got to him, because he finally released Sev, with a mumbled, offhand comment about his always needing me to come and rescue him.

I was fuming, and about to hightail it out of there before I could do/say something I would regret when Severus, who hadn't said a single word since my arrival on the scene, finally looked up. He had a look of such hatred on his face-I'd never seen anything like it, and I wasn't sure what to make of it. Then, he spoke. 'I don't need help from flithy little Mudbloods like her!' he spat, looking truly disgusted. Those were his exact words. At that moment, my whole world stopped. I couldn't breath, I couldn't think; I was in complete shock. Not wanting to let him see that he'd gotten to me- the whole crowd was now looking at me with bated breath, awaiting my reaction to his words- I simply brushed it off. Your father, noble as ever, ordered him to forgive me, but I didn't think he was any better. He was cruel and arrogant and if it weren't for him, none of this would have ever happened. I told him so, and then, without further adieu, I ran back toward the castle. I could tell I was on the brink if tears, and there was no way I was going to cry in front of them. The dormitory, however, in front of Marley and Dorcas, was a different story. I sobbed and sobbed for hours without pause, because it was over. That may seem a but dramatic, but I saw it as more symbolic than anything else. I had chosen my way, and he had chosen his. There was no more me and Sev, no more friendship-he had betrayed me.

I can count the times I've spoken to him since then on one hand, easy. There was once that very same night; he came to the portrait hole late at night, begging me to forgive him, but, of course, I didn't. He showed up at my house a few times over the summer, as well, but I never actually spoke to him- just instructed mum to send him away each time he came 'round, which she did. Eventually, it just stopped. He confronted me again twice over the course of our sixth year, but each time led to even more bitter words being said, and left me feeling worse than I had before. Seventh year passed without incident, and I thought that it would be the same once we graduated, but I was wrong. We met once just before I got married, on accident, and it was painfully awkward. We didn't know what to say to each other- we were no longer the same people. Two years is a long time, and things change. People change. We both grew up, and apart, and we could no longer talk to each other the way we use too. I saw him again about a year and a half ago, right around the time I found out I was pregnant with you. I was at the market with Sirius, and he'd just gone off to get something he'd forgotten in another aisle, when Sev called my name. This time, it wasn't a chance meeting that brought us together. He'd sought me out, and not for the reason I immediatley hoped. He'd come to convince me, on His orders. He told me that You-Know-Who thought I had great potential, and would be honored if I would join him. He promised me cash and security, attempting to lure me in, I suppose. Obviously, I refused. And then, just as I was about to bring up the hippogriff in the room, Sirius came back, there was an awkward silence, and, with one last cold look, Sev billowed off. I haven't heard from him again-and I don't really expect to. By now, I've accepted that its over. Its much too late to remedy the situation, theres way too much history between us now, and I think I'm finally okay with that. Don't get me wrong, it took me a long time to get that way. But I had to, and I did, because the only way to truly deal with loss is to move on. That may sound corny, in fact, that definitely sounds corny, but its true. Whats happened to you is unfair, and you have every right to be angry- at me, at your father, at fate; whoever you want to blame. But the only way to feel better, to get rid of the pain you're feeling once and for all, is to accept the fact that its over.

I know what you must be thinking; what do I know? I haven't been through the same things you have-Sev isn't dead. I could pick up the phone, or grab a quill, and call him up whenever I wanted, couldn't I? Its not like that for you-you've never even met the people who make you feel such inexpicable grief. You've had to go through life constantly hearing about and being compared to two people who you've never known. You'll never have a mother to embarrass you at school functions, or a father to ask for advice about how to woo that girl you fancy so much (not that your father would be the best person to go to in that case, but you get the point). No matter what you do, we're never coming back. You'll never be able to point to two people and say 'those are my parents', and for that, I'm so, so sorry. You're right, I've never been through that- Sev's figurative death has nothing on what you must be feeling. But death is a part of this world too, and people I loved have left me in that way, as well.

My mum and dad were the best. Unlike you, I got the chance to be with them before they died, so I suppose its not quite as bad, but seeing as they were murdered much the same way as we were, I figure its at least comparable. But I'm burying the lead here.

This loss is more recent, fresher in my mind, and because of that, it still hurts to think about. Growing up, we were really close. When I found out I was a witch, unlike most of my family, they were completley supportive, and I loved them all the more for it. For that summer, and all the ones since then, I've spent most of my time with them; none of my magical mates lived near my home in Surrey, and my sister's friends were off-limits. So I spent my days chatting and cooking with mum in our small, homey kitchen, and the nights watching cheesy sitcoms on the telly with dad. The day I moved out was one of the happiest and most depressing of my life. On one hand, I was going to live with your father, which I'd been fantasizing about ever since we began dating a few months before, and I was going to have more freedom, but on the other, there was mum, giving me a watery smile and hugging me so tightly that I had to remind her to give me time to breath in between attacks, and dad, puffing out his chest and trying to conceal the few tears that managed to escape his fortress of manhood. I'll admit, for a moment, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go, but the thought of Petunia and all of the other people in my small, narrow minded hometown who had shunned me finally convinced me. I didn't belong to the same world that they did; not anymore. I had grown up, become a new person. That house, that street, those people, they all held to many reminders of the painful life I had led for the past eighteen years. I had to let go of the old things to make way for the new. For the most part, that didn't bother me - there wasn't much about my old life that I felt was worth preserving-but my parents were one, if not the only part that I wish I could've held on too.

Of course, we still spoke. I was on the phone with mum at least three times a week, but it wasn't the same. I was busy with work, and the Order, and I couldn't really talk to them about the things that were always on my mind. Like the war, for example. They tried their best to be supportive, but at the end of the day, they just didn't get how big of an impact it was having on me. It was better to go to James, or Marley, with those sort of issues rather than worry mum and dad over something they could never fully comprehend. That killed me, because as close as we were, they could never be a big part of my life. For one thing, I didn't want to put them in danger, and for another, we couldn't connect on eventhe most basic of levels. Not that I blamed them for that-not in the least! It wasn't their fault they weren't magical. All I'm saying is that it would've been nice to have that sort of relationship with them.

Straight away after I graduated from Hogwarts, I became a big part of the resistance movement. By the time I was nineteen, he had spies everywhere. You didn't know who to trust, and people were dissappearing by the hundreds. Even our government wasn't safe. Voldemort was on the verge of taking over, and I was eager to do everything in my power to stop it. The way I saw it, just sitting around and allowing it to happen was just as bad as becoming an official Death Eater. So many people were suffering; people just like me, in nine cases out of ten, and they didn't have the opportunity to make a change. I did. So as soon as I got out of school, I suited up. I began training to become a Healer, joined the Order, and did my best to support all of those who were being hurt by this horrible war, the darkest period in wizarding history since the pre-Hogwarts days. It was pretty common knowledge what my stance was on the whole thing, and I made some pretty powerful enemies. We all did. I guess You-Know-Who didn't like the fact that there were still people out there who had the courage to stand up for what they

believed in; he had most of the rest of the world crushed under the heel of his boot. He tried to eliminate us-repeatedly sending Death Eaters to launch attacks on our Headquarters and during various missions-but we were too strong. The great thing about the Order was that it was completely untainted-no one suspected anyone (for the first few years, at least), and we all had each others backs. Not to mention the fact that we were possesed of some of the most talented witches and wizards of our, and a handful of other, generations (your father and Dumbledore included). When his attempts at violence failed, Voldemort, ever the persistent one, decided to hit us where it really hurt. If he couldn't damage us physically, he could attack us emotionally.

The first one to go was Hestia Jones' grandmum. This was a real shock; Tabitha Jones was a well respected member of the pureblood community-this couldn't just be a coincidence. Immediatley, we became suspicious. We could think of only one reason for Him to go after an entirely innocent pureblood woman.

Next came Jonathan Vance. This was a little more plausible-Emma was half-blood, with her father's family being the Muggle side of the equation. But still, it was a little confusing. Jonathan had no idea about the war; he was completley uninvolved. And while none of us would put it above Voldemort to attack random Muggles, just for fun, it seemed a little too coincidental. What were the odds that, out of the millions of Muggles living all around England, He would choose to murder one so closely connected with one of his main oppositioners, completley unprovoked?

We finally caught on after two of Dorcas' pureblood relatives were found dead in the living room of their suburban home on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Her aunt and uncle were so unassuming that I can't even remember their names; there was no reason for Voldemort to single them out, and we weren't stupid. The three murders were utterly pointless, and unconnected, except for one thing. They were all family members of some of the most powerful and involved members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Once we knew what his plan was, we immediatley sprung into action. People like Remus and I, whos families hadn't been targeted yet, tried our best to explain to them the kind of danger they were in without frightening them, or giving too much away, and then shielded their respective residents with as many wards and anti-detection spells as possible. Moving them would've been too suspicious, and it was the worst possible idea to draw anymore attention towards ourselves than we already had. I spent the next two weeks traveling all across the country, visiting distant cousins and great great aunts, trying to make sure everyone was sufficiently protected. Really, I knew that if Voldemort really wanted to get them, he would find a way, but I still had to try. The last time I saw my sister was on the day when I arrived on her dull, simpleminded suburban street and told her everything that had been going on. Naturally, she was furious at my 'abnormality' causing even more trouble for her than it already had; this time, threatning the lives of she and her orcha-whale of a fiancé. Even Petunia wasn't pig-headed enough to refuse my help, but we left each other on less than friendly terms. Those who had already been assailed (the Jones, Vance, and Meadowes families) had it a bit easier, and virtually all of them were given fake names and moved to remote areas of our and various other neighboring countries. Once all of that was taken care of, we shifted our attentions to the more immediate family; the ones we knew it was too late to move or protect. People who we had never made a secret of our affection for; the ones who would definitely become targets at one point or another. There was very little we could do for these ones, besides instructing them to lay low and keep out of the public eye for awhile. I was terrified-I had seen what the attacks had done to Hestia and Emmeline and Dorcas-and willing to do anything I could to stop this from happening to me.

Against Dumbledore's orders, I explained the situation in vivid detail to my parents, and, needless to say, they were horrified. They begged me to quit the Order, go into hiding, do something, anything, to protect myself, but I refused. I told them that it wasn't about me; it was about them, and their safety. This had them outraged, but I didn't care. I just wanted to make them understand. Despite their protests, I finally got through to them(after many long hours of pleading and desperate reasoning) and, before I left that day, I cast spells even more complicated than the ones I'd used to protect my extended family- the most difficult ones I knew. This goodbye was different than the last one-worse- because I had to tell them I wasn't coming back. I'd tried to hint at it during our talk, but I don't think they got it, because this caused an even bigger uproar. It took me fifteen minutes to calm them down enough to reason with them, and another half an hour for this reasoning to take effect. This time, no one was trying to conceal their ters as I explained why I couldn't call, write to, or see them ever again. I told them I'd check in, watch from a safer distance, but this was only a small consolation. It was the worst pain I'd ever felt (up until that point) walking away from my childhood home-from the two people who I loved more than anything in the world. It was like someone had already died, but I managed to convince myself that their lives meant more to me than being able to be apart of them. I would sacrifice anything if I thought it would keep them safe.

I got the owl at 5:00 the next morning. I was getting ready for work, and trying to lure your father out of bed with the promise of a stack of my famous homemade chocolate chip waffles that he loved so much, when a large tawny swooped through the window and dropped the letter on the kitchen table promptly before taking off again. I didn't even have time to tip him. Curious as to what kind of message could warrant such a swift departure (it almost seemed like the owl didn't want to stick around for my reaction), I quickly deserted the stubborn baby hairs and can of hairspray I had been tending to and cracked it open. It was a letter from Dumbledore, explaining my parents dissapearance and offering his condolences. Confused, I read it over again, and again, and again, until what he was telling me finally sank in. When it did, a feeling of abject horror came with it, and I let out an unearthly wailing sound that made your father come running. Everything after that is sort of a blur. All I know is, I'm surprised your father agreed to marry me after some of the things I did next. Barely concious of my actions, I felt my limbs swinging wildy, carrying me forwards, upturning the waffle maker and smashing the coffee pot in the process. The tears were blurring my vision, but I was just aware enough to register your dad picking up the letter, scanning the page quickly one time with serious eyes, and then turning back to me grimly. Other than that, I ignored him as I stormed about the room, destroying everything in my path as my body simultaneously rocked with sobs so powerful they made my stomach cramp up. This lasted for about an hour, during which James flooed both of our jobs and let them know we wouldn't be coming in that day, and I raged about like a tornado in the living room of our small, one bedroom flat. I wanted everything in the room to reflect the chaos I felt inside. Different emotions were fighting for dominance inside me-rage, guilt, sadness- it was overwhelming. And it didn't seem fair that everything around me was so neat and orderly when standing in the middle of it felt like I was being eaten alive. Finally, the grief became too much, and I flopped down on the sofa, one of the only pieces of furniture left that I hadn't damaged in some way or another, and just let the pain have me.

The next few weeks were horrible. I didn't understand why everything was being taken away from me; why, in the midst of the already nightmarish world I was living in, I was also being forced to give up those few things left that I truly cared for. Now, it seemed like everything was going to be taken away from me, in time; your father, Marley and Dorcas, the Order, and I didn't see the point in trying anymore. I sunk into a depression so deep it seemed like I would never resurface; it felt like I had had all of the life sucked out of me, like I'd been cornered by a crowd of dementors, all of whom decided to perform the kiss on me. I lashed out at everyone, never put any effort into anything, and refused to acknowledge anything good in my life. To me, there was no good. It was just me, alone, and nothing was ever going to get better.

I was lucky enough to be proven wrong. Fortunately, there was good, all the good in the world, right in front of me, and I had your father and all of my amazing friends to remind me of that. They stuck with me through my funk, putting up with all if my random mood swings and absence of feeling, working tirelessly to help me recover. They never faltered-never was there a time when they considered giving up, or when they doubted that I would go back to being Lily. It was hard work, but they were up for the job. I can't pinpoint the exact moment when the color started coming back into my life, but I know it was because of them that I got off my arse and started to live it again.

Of course, I wasn't totally wrong. The world was a scary place, especially then, for a bunch of kids with only hardly any real world experience. We were forced to grow up way too fast; we never had the chance to fool around or make stupid mistakes like most teenagers do. Our glory days were spent discussing battle tactics, training in self defense,and planning weddings. In the span of four years, I went from little girl to mature woman without even knowing what was happening. I don't want that for you, Harry, and thats why I'm trying my best to fight against all of the odds stacked against us. While I'm perfectly aware that you'll never be normal, in the traditional sense of the word, I want you to live in a better world, one where being normal is at least a possibilty. So, even when you are feeling sad, you have to live the life that I- and everyone else who loves you (because you do have so many-really)- have always wanted for you. Don't let the pain have you, not like I did. Go to school, make some friends, get drunk a few times, meet a girl, break her heart, whatever. I want you to be able to enjoy your youth, like I couldn't, not to have to depend on shreds of hope and small points of light that are the only things that make life worth living. Because when those things are taken away, it hits you hard, and some people may not have the strength to get back up. You might not have the strength to get back up. Because no matter what, no matter what kind of life you live, normal or otherwise, things change. People we love leave us, and even those small shreds of hope and random point of light don't stay forever. I learned that the hard way.

I don't know why I was so surprised when it happened. By then, I should've been used to the feeling, used to losing people, but I guess it just never occured to me that one of the ever present figures in my life, one of the ones that I so depended on, could one day go away, too. It should have- I'm usually quite a sensible girl- and the constant danger me and the other Order members were in was always very apparent. But before this, it had never resulted in anything, it was more of a threat than a promise. Nothing serious had actually ever happened to one of us before. That is, until Dorcas.

Dorcas had always been talented. In school, she was the one who never really had to try; she just got it. She was the favorite of many of our professors, especially Professor Tolkien (she had a particular affinity for Defense Against the Dark Arts). Not only was she absolutley brilliant, but she also came from a long line of pureblood witches and wizards, which endeared her to most of Slytherin house, and had an outgoing, funloving sort of personality that made her one of the most popular girls in school. Not to mention, she was rather pretty. I was actually quite surprised in seventh year when I was chosen as Head Girl instead of her; she was the favorite choice for the job. Like me, she made no secret of her distaste for the dark arts, or Voldemort, and when Dumbledore began to hint at our doing something more for the cause, she was just as ready as I was. Her magical talent and her people skills made her a valuable asset, and we weren't the only ones who noticed. Soon after graduation, she caught the attention of 'the Dark Lord' himself, and when he wanted someone, he didn't give up. He began to court her, sending recruiters to the flat she shared with Emma and Marley, giving her extravagant gifts, and bothering her family. To this day, I'm not exactly sure why he latched onto her so completley- I suppose it was just the thrill of the chase- but I do know one thing. You can only refuse someone that dangerous so many times before things get ugly. Voldemort, especially, doesn't like to lose. If he couldn't have her-nobody could.

I still remember the last time I saw her. It was a few weeks before I found out I was pregnant-just a few months after our wedding, where she was a bridesmaid. She, Marley, Emmeline, Alice and I were having a girls night, just us five. We gossiped and ate Honeyduke's famous fudge and played stupid games just like we had when we were in school and we all shared a dormitory. It was a nice little reprieve from the world in turmoil around us, from a war that was seeming increasingly pointless as it wore on. After all, it had now been almost five years, and there had been little difference. If anything, the situation was just getting worse. But they always knew how to distract me-they were my best friends-and it was always hard to find time with them those days. That night was very important to me, to all of us, but Dorcas had to leave early. At 10:00, she announced that she was going home. She had to floo her mum, she explained when we protested, who'd been worried avout her ever since the death of her aunt and uncle three months before. We agreed, however grudgingly, and she told us to cheer up. "I'll see you guys tommorrow, anyways, " she said, smiling teasingly. "We have an Order meeting, remember?"

And we did. The next day, when your father and I showed up late to headquarters, neither Dorcas nor Marley and Emmeline were present. The room got really quite when we walked in, and then Hagrid, who used to love it when Dorcas and I would visit him back at Hogwarts, let out this big, gut wrenching sob that sounded like a two year old blowing on a tuba. I knew what had happened even before Dumbledore, who seemed to be the only calm person in the room (Hagrids crying had set off a chain reaction) began to explain. Apparently, Voldemort had payed a late night visit to Dorcas just after she'd gotten off the floo with her mum, who was in hysterics. Her body was discovered by Emmeline, who got home just a few minutes before Marley, who'd stuck around to say hello when James got back. Thats why they werent here-traumatized, as they should be. I can only imagine my reaction if I'd been the one.

Dorcas' murder took a toll on all of us. She was the first Order member who'd been killed, and her death was sort of a wake up call. If Dorcas Meadowes, smart, talented, good natured Dorcas, was dead, it meant that the rest of us barely stood a chance. Losing one of my best friends wasn't as hard as the first time, or losing my parents, because her memory was enough to remind me that life went on, that this tragedy wasn't the end of the world. It was more the reality of the situation that was hard on me. Unlike last time, there were other people in pain, people who I loved, and I had to be the light for them that they'd been for me before. We all kept eachother going, and luckily, it wasn't long before both Alice and I discovered that we were with child. This helped, too. We knew Dorcas wouldn't want us dwelling on her; she would want us to be strong for our babies-to keep the legacy going. She was an amazing woman; I wish you could've met her. She would've loved you too, I'm sure.

Anyways, this has been a long letter, and I hope what I'm trying to say hasn't gotten lost in translation. The point is, loss happens to everyone, and its horrible. Its not an easy emotion to deal with, loss, and I'm not sure if anything I've said will really be able to help. Nothing that I can say will take away from your pain, but I hope that you know that I understand, and I can't stand the fact that I'm the reason for what your feeling. I'm your mother, I'm supposed to protect you from this sort of stuff. Instead, I'm causing it. But I have good intentions, I swear. I really do believe that my death is going to effect you less than living in this sort of world would. If I didn't, if I thought that there was even the smallest chance that I could avoid this somehow, I would take it. I'm sacrificing myself, your father, everything for you. And maybe it won't be necessary. Like I said, there is no gurantee that you'll never get to meet me. But in case you don't, and if it ever gets to be too much, come back to this letter, and read it over, and know that I was once a real person, who felt real things; not just an abstract concept that you sometimes hear about in passing at family functions. I lived, and loved, and lossed, just like you did. And I'm still here for you, whenever you need me. Be strong, Harry.

Love,

Lily

A/N: Thank you so much for reading :) I would really love some feedback (I'm not afraid of constructive criticism!) so please, please, take some time to leave a review. I hope you liked it!