Author's note: Lily's annoying, fair enough. I bet some of you are put off by her blatant helplessness. But there's strength in admitting your weaknesses, in taking medications and trying to survive each day. Some days are harder than others and it's okay to reach out to those you love the most.
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Lily had taken a cab to the train station later that day, after crying herself exhausted by 4pm. Her body was like a coil, ready to burst from tension the entire time. She fidgeted the entire time, feeling particularly embarrassed when a businessman shifted away from her like she was a junkie on the train. She had only her purse with her, for once succumbing to impulsiveness. The purse was her lifeline as it contained her phone, some change, and medications. She could live out that small bag in her lap. She originally intended to get a hotel, far far away from James' incessant hammering on the door. In the end, she decided to surprise her family with an impromptu visit, maybe for the entire weekend. She regretted the last two days, wishing she hadn't ever taken those damned days off. Her nails were jagged from jittery gnawing, her hair too frizzed and eyes too distant. But she knew how to get home by heart, having done it daily during her dad's sickest times. It's like muscle memory, she quipped mentally, trying to put pressure on her temples to ease the ache.
Her mother was currently plaiting her hair, scraping her fingernails through a particularly tight knot. She had caused quite a hubbub, throwing herself into her mama's arms and breaking down. Rosalie and Enrique were napping on the sofa, stirring awake to the commotion. It was all hugs and tears. Lily had finally settled down, her head on her mama's lap as her brother's head laid her own lap. Rosie was sleeping in her play crib, away from the weird sadness train they had created. Lily griped about her panic attack, finally letting her family bear witness to the extent of her inability to pull herself together. Instead of judging, they admitted their own struggles they had tried hiding from her. They didn't want to distract her, to burden her more. She held her brother close, as he admitted he had not recovered from his eating disorder and was getting worse. Their mama let tears soak Lily's hair, as she absorbed the ache that came from feeling like she had failed her beautiful kids. Together, they were strong, airing out the plague that cancer had left behind.
Lily eventually texted Severus, letting him know she had gone home for the weekend and that she was turning her phone off for some R&R. They went out to dinner that night. Lily had to wear one of her mother's old dresses because the other clothes were too baggy and her brother was skinnier than her. They ate at a small Italian restaurant that was famous for their homemade perogies even though they sold no other Polish items on the menu. As Lily fed her baby sister some mashed pasta bits, they prattled on about happier thoughts. Most of the time was spent reminiscing about their father's love of the beach and Elvis. They laughed hard when they remembered the time they had gone to the shore and her papa swore he'd seen a shark but it turned out to be an old flip-flop bobbing on the waves. Everyone was pissed at him because the lifeguards had shut the beach down to investigate, losing about 4 hours of sunlight for a shoe.
It was a memorable time because Lily, poor pale-skinned Lily, had sunburnt so badly after falling asleep on her towel as they waited for the waters to be safe. The sun had shifted over time to eventually imprint the perfect silhouette of Enrique's phone on her thigh. He had placed it there, in the shade with her, to guard from thieves as he had gotten too bored sitting down and left to prowl the boardwalk for boys to chat up. He came back to get blamed for branding her with a perfect creamy brick shape against the most putrid red flesh. Ah, good times. Bad times, but good times nonetheless. Her throat was raw from laughing by the time they had paid the bill and gotten up to leave. Her family, her beautiful family. They were perfect and strange and not ashamed of her.
They drove back in relative silence, with the softest jazz playing on the car stereo for a sleeping Rosalie. Enrique was slumped beside his sister, looking more related than ever with their dark caramel skin and curly charcoal hair. His head was slumped on Rosie's car seat as he drooled a bit, making Lily smile fondly as she occasionally glanced back when her mama would turn slightly too sharply. She was exhausted too. She kept blinking to rewet the dry, tired eyes. They had run a marathon in the last couple days with the sheer amount of crying she'd done. Her mama was humming along to the soft instrumentals, with a tired but contented air about her. They rode in peace, pulling onto their street slowly. It was late now, an hour 'til midnight, and the moon slept low with the fog. Lily's childhood house passed her by. They pulled into the driveway, her eyes still fixed on the house she had little memories of. That was the house where Petunia was happy. That was where her birth parents wanted her to grow up. Forlorn, she climbed out the car and unbuckled her sister from the car seat, making careful not to wake her.
She carried her to the porch with tender steps, her eyes drifting close.
"Lily," her mom started.
She gasped as well, stopping so suddenly that Enrique stepped on her heel as he rammed into her back.
"Oi, what the fu-," he hissed, looking around more alert yet confused from grogginess. He made a sound in his throat. Oh.
Oh, indeed.
James Potter was asleep on their porch swing, draped with a throw her mama had probably knitted years ago.
Lily swallowed the stone in her throat, feeling her chicken ravioli from earlier starting to come up.
Her mother was prodding at him, trying not to startle him too much. She watched him blink himself awake, stepping behind Enrique's tall frame to sink out of sight. Too bad he was thin like a rail, doing nothing to hide her. Instead, her brother grabbed her hand and dragged her back to the car, always on the same wavelength. They stood in silence, mood too heavy, as she rocked Rosie fussily.
James was talking in a voice too low with her mama, both of them looking her way occasionally. She was pressing her face into her sister's silky curls, inhaling the scent of baby powder. She tried not to wonder why he was here, instead fixating on the rock Enrique was trying to balance on his foot like a hacky-sack.
She had to give it to him though. James, obviously, not Enrique. He was devastatingly handsome. His jaw was clenched, looking like it was cut from marble by a renaissance sculptor. His hair was black like the night around them, but his eyes were so bright, like the moon above. His wirey glasses would glint when the streetlight caught it at the right angle, drawing her eye back like a fish to a lure. He was running his hand through his hair again. Lily grumbled at the unfairness causing her brother to glance at her with a raised brow.
"Sis, you sure know how to pick 'em," he drawled which brought a small smile to her lips. "If only the boys at school looked like that." She peered at James with fresher eyes. He was standing up, his hands smoothing down the rumpled dress shirt. It was a nice shirt, she had to admit, noting how the dark blue managed to make his skin look flawless in the night. But Lily had seen him with no shirt, and hell, nothing compared. He was wearing jeans, regular fitted blue jeans. Nothing like Sirius' torn, studded ones that he always paraded around in. His sneakers were just…sneakers. She wanted to find him normal, but he managed to look modest, humble, and too attractive for her health and wellbeing. Their mother was motioning for them to come back from the driveway, but Lily wanted to do nothing but jump in the car and somehow go back in time to before their family night ended.
"Be brave, Lilypad," whispered Enrique as he took her hand in his and dragged her to the porch. She felt exposed, letting him see her true home, where so much had happened. But she didn't have a choice as their mama was already ushering him inside. He kept looking back at her with the saddest eyes, but Lily knew her puppy eyes were far superior. Greener. But his were technically prettier, with all their depth and color.
They sat down in the living room, with her mother and him sharing the loveseat and Enrique squashed against her on the recliner as he tried perching on the arm piece. Rosalie's tiny body was sprawled on the largest couch, with Lily tucking pillows around her to create a moat to prevent her from rolling off. She could feel James' eyes burning into the back of her skull the entire time. And so when she sat with her brother, she tried tucking her face into his scrawny back. James was picking at the fringe of a throw pillow, his eyes lingering on the pictures hung on the wall. Petunia's scowling mug was the sole image in a gaudy white frame, clashing with the décor. She had picked it and said that she deserved to stand out in their house. The walls were covered with images of their history. One shelf held all Enrique's dance trophies. The shelf below it held Lily's Bachelor's and Master's diplomas. Smiling faces stared back at her from the walls around them. Even her Papa's sweet moustache smiles were in a few frames. Lily didn't know if she could cope with seeing her father look so alive every day like this. It was a terrible reminder of what was now gone. Feeling overcome with nerves, with sorrow too, she pushed herself out of her seat and ran up the stairs. Her mother was trying to distract James with some chai tea. Why did he follow her home? How did he know where she lived?
She hadn't been to her old bedroom in so long. This was where her and Petunia had still been sisters, best friends. The walls were a cotton candy pink and there was a glossy white chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. Two twin beds were on opposite sides of the room in immaculate sheets, as if her mother still thought they were children. Not wanting to wonder if her mother's stuck-in-the-past coping mechanisms were healthy, she threw herself onto her old bed and burrowed under the covers. Today was the most never-ending day in history. Lily felt like she'd aged a decade since waking up this morning with the sprightly optimism of someone unlike the person she currently was harboring inside. What an exhausting day. Why had there been so many ups-and-downs? She stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling, counting them until she dozed off, glasses askew on her face.
Lily woke to the smell of bacon assaulting her. 'Wow, I can't believe I slept through the night.' She knew that sweet syrupy pancakes would follow, drizzled in goat's milk caramel sauce her mama always made when she visited. Lily's stomach was rampaging in agony from nostalgia. She refused to listen, knowing James might still be downstairs and she looked like roadkill. It took a shower and two 15-minute pep talks in the mirror for her to finally wander downstairs. She heard James' honey-sweet chuckle from the kitchen, vibrating her skin cells into goosebumps. She wanted to swoon, imagining her not-boyfriend-boyfriend and family getting along so swimmingly. She touched a hand to a framed picture of her father as she passed through the living room. 'Give me strength', her mind prayed if he was watching upon her. She brushed the wet hair plastered to her shoulders backwards, letting it soak the fabric of her hoodie rather than drip down her face like she was from The Grudge. Biting her lip, she skittishly entered the kitchen and braced herself for impact.
"Hija, that was very rude last night. The poor boy came all the way down here for you and you just ran off. Shame, shame." She tapped Lily lightly on her head with a wooden pot spoon, getting pancake batter in her hair and causing her to squeal indignantly and flee from her mama's arm range. That poor boy was looking at her with a lopsided grin as he sat at her kitchen table looking too handsome to be real. Poor boy, my ass. He had seduced them with his boyishly good looks. Her own traitorous family. She picked the batter out her hair, then meticulously dug the remains from under her nails trying to ignore the way her heart flipped when he smiled at her like that. Enrique was sitting next to him and there was a large pile of pancakes split between them. A mason jar filled with warmed caramel sat there too, gathering gloopy drops onto the plastic tablecloth. Her stomach complained grouchily. Rosie was strapped to her high chair, eating small chunks of banana. The homeliness of the scene made her stomach churn uncomfortably. James looked like he had a great sleep unlike her own fitful, restless one. She had prematurely taken her anxiety medication today, in case of stress. She sat down tentatively next to the empty seat beside her brother, glad she didn't have to be too close to James.
Her mother was singing under her breath in Spanish, something she only did when she had people to coddle. Something warm was pooling in her belly, like contentment maybe. Mama use to sing all the time for them. James was watching her as he chatted with her brother. She wondered if she looked like a ghost, all translucent and drained. Strung out like an addict.
Her mother placed a plate of bacon in-front of her and Lily pinched Enrique's bicep when he tried stealing it from her. He was so dramatic, cursing in Spanish that she'd bruised him as he waved his arm to show anyone who would look. James and her shared the thinnest smile, mocking his antics before she quickly caught herself and pulled her hood up to burrow. She was sitting cross-legged in her seat, nibbling at a piece of bacon she dunked in the caramel jar. Enrique was loudly complaining that she was ruining the flavor with her blasphemous behavior. Rosie was hollering too, adding to more chaos in the kitchen. Between the singing, the yelling and cooing, and the sizzling bacon on the stove, she found a migraine beginning to form. Lily rested her forehead directly onto the table, huffing when her mother told her to stop moping. She pulled the drawstrings so tight that the hoodie completely consumed her face.
"Yo, you look like a polar bear's butthole," said her brother, braying like the jackass he was. "S'all, idunno?….Puckered!" His laughter continued to boom around her, muffled by fabric of her hood. She looked up and saw him still chortling with a toothy grin, giving her a perfect view of his half-chewed food. Face red, she loosened the tension on the strings to stick her tongue out and glare. James was smiling into his plate, looking too damn sexy because Enrique's shirt he'd borrowed was too tight. She could feel the vibrations of a full house, especially James' deep voice drowning her in silk. She covered her head with her arms, telling them they were giving her a migraine. Her hands did little to put ample pressure on her tender, pulsating skull. The kitchen did start to calm down as they were being sensitive of the noise they were making, except for Rosie who continued to clang her spoon and giggle. Lily felt bad because the morning had felt so normal and she had to go ruin it for them. Enrique was stage-whispering that her migraines were from the medication and that she was hypersensitive to stimuli and could pass out from too much. "Duntalkboutit," she mumbled into her white sweatshirt. "She also has panic attacks too, but you know that now, don't you?" Her brother's such a fucking asshole, she thought bitterly. She didn't want to discuss this. Not now and definitely not ever. James hummed a noise in response, causing her to lift her head up a smidge. He caught her looking and she quickly turned away.
Her cheek was pressed against an empty plate as she enjoyed the ceramic coldness. Someone was rubbing her back now with soothing circles and then her head through the lumpy fabric of her sweatshirt hood. She made a happy groan when the fingers reached her temples. Her head tipped back a bit and she looked into the kind face of James Potter. Her eyebrows scrunched up and her shoulders tensed, but he wasn't deterred. Instead, he continued to stand behind the chair and massage her brain. It felt good enough to make her toes curl. He was reaching over her now, so close that she could smell that cinnamon scent of his. His hand came back with a slice of bacon hoovering at her mouth. She shook her head 'no' and he frowned before taking a bite himself. Such straight pearly teeth, he could have been the son of dentists. Enrique distracted them from a very intimate moment in which Lily was enraptured as she watched his mouth work. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and she found herself concerned at whatever new voyeuristic fetish she had acquired for him. Her brother was making kissy faces from behind James, gesturing with enough tongue that her mother had to drag him out the kitchen as she went to clean up Rosalie.
They were alone now. The hand not covered in bacon grease settled on the nape of her neck to rub out the tension. James' other hand was dipping a strip of bacon in caramel and trying to feed her again. She took a bite, worried that she looked like a llama at a petting zoo reaching for grass. Did she forgive him for his actions? Were there actions that required her forgiveness in the first place?
His strong fingers worked a knot until she let out a whimper. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let the hood fall down to give him better access to her neck. His hands were gentle, tentative, when they returned to her hair. There was something in the air and it was indescribable.
"Hey there," he crooned above a whisper when she finally looked up at him. He tilted the chair around so that she wasn't facing the table anymore. Instead, he pulled up the chair Enrique was sitting in earlier so that their knees touched. Lily felt frightened by her feelings and ashamed of all that happened.
"M'sorry I broke your phone…," she muttered, disliking how caring and patient his face looked.
"Lily, are you-," he was reaching to hold her hands tightly in his, "Are you fucking kidding me? You took off-after, well you nearly gave me a heart attack and then you left. I've never felt so helpless. So lost. Why-shit, I didn't mean to stress you out. I promised I'd take it slow for you. I'm so, so sorry, Lily."
He let out a shuddered breath that gusted the sweetest pancakes at her, "I don't give a shit about the phone! I can't believe-god, you had me so worried! I kept coming by to check on you-it's okay that you didn't want to talk. And then Snape, fucking Snape-said you were gone. Begged him to tell me where. Fuck, do you have any idea how guilty I felt? I mean, I literally begged Snape. You're been driving me fucking crazy-just fucking mad, you're going to give me grey hairs!" He broke off to give a harsh laugh.
"Lily, I'm so sorry for not realizing you were being triggered with a panic attack. I didn't mean to come on so strong. Your mom said I overwhelmed you-I feel like a fucking dick. You've got so much going on and I-," She broke off the frenzied rambling with a firm close-lipped kiss on his mouth. Mostly it missed, but she didn't mind. He was watching her warily.
"I overreacted….." He was shaking his head now, not letting her have that excuse.
"You have an anxiety disorder, Lily. It's not just an overreaction. This was bad. It was so bad. I'm sorry for putting you through that, love. You look really worn out." She let him hug her, her whole body humming as she soaked in his warmth. Swooning didn't even begin to describe what she felt when he called her 'love'.
"We'll have to communicate more. I need to know the signs and you need to tell me when to back off. No, stop hiding your face, you dork." He was trying to coax her out from her bundle in his arms. His lips tasted like caramel, molten sweetness making her float. She was already feeling the synthetic calm that came from her tranquilizer medicine and the lethal dosage was James' kisses. He tasted like breakfast and family and safety. Too breathless and aroused, she broke away.
"We're going to have to talk, fine-but not right now. Later." She got up to pack away the leftovers and clear the table.
