Above all else, Lily Evans was glad that she hadn't cried in front of everyone. Thanking Merlin that she had a free period after lunch, she went up to her dorm room and sat on her bed, staring out the window. It didn't quite seem real, yet. She knew it would. Soon. But she didn't want to be around anyone when it happened.
She took the crumpled piece of parchment from her bag, tossing the black envelope carelessly to the side. She folded out the piece of paper again and stared at the words on the page, her eyes blurring as she read one more time what she couldn't bring herself to believe.
Ms. Evans,
At approximately 9:15pm, your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Douglas Evans, were killed via the Killing Curse by Death Eaters, along with several other Muggles in an attack on a calculated attack in Manchester.
We are sincerely sorry for your loss,
Minister Ian Richards
Lily stared uncomprehendingly at the words, "We are sincerely sorry for your loss," completely unable to process them. They seemed so wildly ridiculous, impersonal and uncaring. Did they even mean anything?
Before she really acknowledge the fact she was crying, she realized that the tears felt hot on her face. Their warmth seeming inappropriate given the cold chill penetrating her organs. As she quietly felt them slide down her face, she still tried vainly to bury her emotions. She noticed that the tears were falling haphazardly onto the parchment and made a big show, even if just to herself, of taking the letter and folding it back into it's damned black envelope.
She tucked it neatly back into it's original container and tossed it onto her nightstand.
The sound that the envelope made as it landed lightly on her nightstand was of no consequence whatsoever but, somehow, Lily felt herself drawn to it. In some unexplainable way, the sound switched something inside of her and the enormity of the situation crashed down on the red-headed prefect.
Alone in the sanctity of her dorm, she allowed herself to break.
* * * * * * * *
Lily awoke, vaguely startled that, from observing the window, the sun was setting.
"Hey, Lily," Her friend, Michelle McDonald, said softly, coming to the side of her bed.
"What time is it?" Lily asked, confusedly.
"It's around eight. Dumbledore told us to let you sleep," Michelle said, watching Lily with a delicate expression on her face.
"Oh," Lily said.
"Remus has your homework for the day, you know, if you're up for it," Michelle continued.
"Why wouldn't I be up for it?" Lily asked, before realizing. Immediately she began to feel the tears coming on again.
"It's okay, honey," Michelle said, holding Lily to her, "Let it out."
"It can't be real," Lily murmured, "It shouldn't be real."
"I know," Michelle whispered, pulling the curtains around Lily's bed and casting a silencing charm.
For a minute or two, Michelle simply hugged her crying friend, trying to be there desperately for someone who had always been there for her.
"They're dead," Lily croaked out between sobs.
"Who?" Michelle asked. The student body hadn't been informed of why Lily had run out; Lily's classmates had only been informed that a something terribly tragic had occurred, pertaining to her. The Daily Prophet, of course, reported the attack and many had come to the conclusion that someone close to her had died, but no one knew who.
"My parents," Lily whispered, breaking into sobs again.
"Oh, honey," Michelle said, beginning to cry as well, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
The pair cried for a few minutes until Lily, still emotionally exhausted, fell asleep.
Michelle tucked her friend in, still trying to gather her emotions.
There was a war going on, somewhere beyond the walls of Hogwart's. The disappearances and mysterious deaths had sapped the life out of the school, and that was only when none of the student body had been affected. The Marauders, they had turned things around for a few days, but even boys as joyous and talented as them could only hold back reality for so long. Eventually, facts - disastrous, crushing facts - were too much for even magic to deal with.
It was enough to make anyone cry.
Michelle looked back at Lily, somehow looking peaceful in her slumber. Michelle let a few tears fall silently down her face. What could any of them do, now? When the reality had struck so close to home? She looked idly at the envelope on Lily's nightstand. What could any of them do when those damned black envelopes could fall at any time?
* * * * * * * *
In response to her tragedy, Lily threw herself into her schoolwork. Her fiery red-headed temper had increased dramatically and she was prone to snap, even at her friends, over the most mundane of things. Those closest to her understood intimately and didn't hold it against her. Those who knew only that she was dealing with a tragedy still didn't hold it against her, she had worked up an abundance of goodwill over her years at Hogwart's.
When not in class, she was most often found in the library, pushing thoughts of her family out of her mind by finishing schoolwork that wasn't due for at least a week, if not more. To some extent, the endeavor worked, concerning herself intimately with the details of subjects as in-depth and utterly mind-numbing as History of Magic or Arithmancy, she was able to avoid most thoughts of her family. Goblin Wars and complex magical theory were both mentally exhausting enough that she could concentrate so much on them that she could block out any other thoughts that attempted to penetrate her process.
For the most part.
Of course, there were some moments and some triggers, a word or a scent, that could bring tears to Lily's eyes. She fought them, but sometimes it was too much and she was forced to retreat back to her dorm to quietly cry in peace.
She was in the Library today, working on a Transfiguration assignment, allowing frustration to wash over her. Normally she would fight it and try to approach her difficulties with the subject in a rational way. However, taking time to collect her thoughts was, as of late, too dangerous. The frustration was an avoidance mechanism of infinite effectiveness.
A figure sat down next to her, causing her to glance over. It was her friend in Hufflepuff, Amos Diggory. The pair had been getting closer and, as he was a fairly attractive member of the student body, and a prefect, many thought it was only a matter of time before they got together. Honestly, even Lily was surprised that, prior to her letter, he had not asked her to Hogsmeade. Now, she could barely bring herself to think about Hogsmeade, much less burgeoning romance.
"Hey," Amos said quietly.
"Hi," Lily responded.
"How've you been?" Amos asked, waiting a moment before adding, "I'm sorry, that was a stupid question."
"No, no," Lily assured him, "It's fine. It's a natural question to ask. I'd answer it if I knew how."
A pained smile pulled on Amos' features, "Well, I mean, I don't know what happened, but would you like to talk with me about it?"
Lily took a moment to look at Amos. He had well-kept, short, light brown hair that framed his blue eyes. When he smiled, a single dimple appeared on the left side of his face. He was always kind, never pushy, and was always willing to be there when someone needed him. It was just his way.
"Thanks, Amos," Lily said, smiling at him, "But, I'd rather not."
"Oh," Amos said, his genial smile faltering for a moment, "That's okay. Totally understandable."
Amos quietly lifted himself out of the seat next to Lily's and began to make his way towards the entrance to the Library.
He had fancied Lily for some time now but, as happened to be an unfortunate character trait of many Hufflepuffs, he did not always have the courage to act on his desires. He wished he could simply bring himself to ask her out, but found her dominant personality occasionally intimidating. It always seemed that whenever he had worked up enough courage to do it, was when she was at her most riled and it tended to suck the strength out of him.
"Amos?" Lily called quietly.
"Yeah," He asked, eagerly, turning around to face her.
"Thank you, regardless," She said kindly, smiling at him before returning to her Transfiguration.
"Yeah, no problem," He said, though it barely seemed like she heard.
It was for moments like that that he, and just about every other sixth-year, found himself enamored with her.
* * * * * * * *
Later that evening, Lily found herself lying in the bed in her dorm room, absolutely unable to fall asleep. Every other sixth year girl was quietly sleeping away, unafraid of their dreams. Lily's dreams always seemed to be terrible, since the letter. Her subconscious dragged up new, inventive, horrifying and utterly impossible scenarios for the deaths of her parents. She had gone to Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Sleep Potion, but had forgotten to get more for that evening. As consequence, she found herself unable to sleep and very, very frustrated about the fact.
She hauled herself out of her bed and down the steps of the dorm into the Common Room. She sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, idly staring at the jumping flames. There was something beautiful in the colors and movement of the fire. Something primal and infinite, especially in magical fire that never went out. The idea of such permanence brought tears to Lily's eyes for a few moments. She heard low footsteps coming from the direction of the boys dormitories and she quickly pulled herself together before the late-night sleepwalker could see her tears.
"Evans?" The voice of James Potter quietly asked.
For a moment she didn't respond, merely found dug up and amplified the minute frustration that she felt into something more significant. Of course, it had to be him that would find her at this hour.
"Yes, Potter?" She questioned.
"Sorry, just, didn't know if it was you," He said quietly, slipping into the chair that was adjacent to her couch.
Silence passed, equal parts awkward, comfortable and intentional before curiosity got the best of Lily.
"What are you doing up?" She asked.
"Worried," He said, though he seemed to instantly regret the words.
"Worried?" She asked, surprised at the word coming out of the carefree boy's mouth, "About what?"
He hesitated for a moment, looking warily in her direction before answering.
"About you," He finally concluded, turning his attention determinedly towards the flickering flames.
"What for?" She scoffed, though she knew the answer.
"Evans, don't be daft," He quickly replied, meaning to keep the comment in good humor, though immediately realizing that any comment that could be construed as forward would get him in trouble. He put his hand to his mouth, looking up towards the ceiling in disbelief.
"What?" Lily said, her eyes narrowing.
"I just meant, that of course everyone is worried about you. I just said it bad," He attempted to cover up for his mistake.
She found she couldn't work up the anger to yell at him when he was obviously trying to backtrack, so she decided to let the comment slide. It was just so Potter, to let his mouth lead before his brain. She knew he and the Marauders were intelligent, and singularly gifted wizards as well, but she was amazed with just how irresponsible and lackadaisical they could be.
"So, what happened?" James asked.
Lily looked at him in shock. Nearly everyone had been more than accommodating and gentle when the asked her about her current state. She couldn't believe how tactless and abrupt James was being.
"I don't want to talk about it, Potter," She said, turning away from him.
"Yeah, you do," James replied immediately.
She couldn't believe it. It was infuriatingly different from how everyone else was treating her. When all everyone else was being was supportive, careful and kind, here came James Potter. He was challenging, pushy and so confident in the tone of his voice. It was his way, and she could barely stand it.
"Excuse me?" She glowered.
"You do!" James insisted, "You're practically going to explode, Evans. You need to get whatever is in you out before it blows you right up. I can't stand to see you and everybody who knows you so lifeless and careful and sad."
"Careful," Lily spat, focusing only on one word of James sentence, "You say that like it's so horrible."
"Sometimes it is," James said, quietly but forcefully, "If you're being so careful about how you feel, you're just going to make yourself miserable."
"I'd be miserable even if I shouted it to the whole school!" Lily yelled.
"Maybe," James continued, undeterred, "But wouldn't you take maybe being miserable over definitely being miserable?"
Unable to come up with a reply, Lily kept quiet. She mulled over James' words for a few moments, staring at the fire. It never ended. It was a miracle. Something that never ended. As far as she could imagine, and even farther, that fire would never stop flickering. Her children, her grandchildren, even their grandchildren, would live and die and the flame would still flicker.
"That fire always makes me think of hope," James said, wistfully, having noticed Lily's gaze, "It'll be around long after Voldemort has fallen, long enough for people to have made new lives for themselves. Long enough for this castle to just be full of happy children, putting off their homework until tomorrow."
She couldn't help but begin to cry at James' speech. She held her eyes closed as tightly as she could, attempting to will away the tears. But she couldn't. They began to slip, unwanted, down her face. For the second time that week, she found herself giving in.
"They're dead," She whispered, so quietly she didn't expect James to hear, "My parents are dead."
"Oh, Lily," James said, the use of her first name breaking down her defenses even further, "I'm so bloody sorry." He got up from his chair, sitting down next to her and hugging her gently. Lily couldn't even find the energy to make a snarky comment about his dream coming true; She was crying too hard.
After a few minutes, James felt Lily's tears subside and he allowed her to sit back up on her own. He smiled, a genuine smile at her.
"Told you you wanted to talk about it," He said, cheekily.
"Oh, Merlin," Lily tried to sigh, but ended up laughing, "How are you always so bloody annoying?"
"Sheer talent," James immediately replied.
Lily laughed again, but it died away in her throat.
"It feels wrong," She explained, "To be laughing now."
"Yeah," James said, nodding, "I know."
For some reason, that comment lit something inside of Lily, and anger bubbled up in her stomach, "How could you possibly know? Spoiled, rich, little James Potter?"
James, shocked, turned towards her, scooting away from her on the couch.
"Lily, I-" He started.
"No," Lily near-shouted, standing up, "Don't call me Lily. You don't know anything about what this feels like," Here she pointed a finger violently in his direction, "Okay? Nothing."
James, frustrated, stood up, his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "You know what, you're right. I don't know what you're going through," He conceded, still managing a bit of anger through it, "But we've all got shit, Evans. Not just you."
Not allowing Lily any sort of response, he turned and stomped up the stairs to the boys dorm rooms. Lily, shocked and still upset, began to cry in earnest again, sitting down on again on the couch. She was amazed at Potter's inability to leave things alone, his desire to meddle and always be in everything. How dare he come after her, given what she was going through?
After a moment's reflection, she shook her head, letting out a sob again. She realized that what upset her most wasn't that he had been so direct, so blunt and so unafraid to tell her what he thought. What made her most upset was that he was right.
* * * * * * * *
She woke up in the Common Room around five or six in the morning, to find that the couch had been transfigured large enough for her to fit comfortably on it and that she was covered with several warm, cozy blankets. Next to her was a one word note.
Sorry.
- James
