Disclaimer: IT'S NOT MINE. I WISH I COULD SAY THAT THIS CHAPTER WASN'T MINE. BUT IT IS. AHHH.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
GOOD LUCK X

Waking up on the Forest floor comes with a sense of finality. A sense of relief, the kind of peace that only the inevitability of an event can bring. I haven't accepted it yet, though, that I will never live to reach my next birthday; that I will never marry James Potter and have children with him and grow up with him and see silver thread its way through his dark hair.
Among the trees, there's a clearing, and I'm lying in the middle of it, school uniform rumpled.
In front of me is Trevor Bailey, the Ravenclaw Prefect, and his wand is pointed straight at my head.
Aside from his threatening posture, his face is contorted with shame and confusion.

"How's your neck?"
"Probably scarred, thanks to you."
"Oh." He looked disappointed, almost apologetic.
"Ah, well, at least I won't live long enough for it to matter, eh?"
"Don't say that."
He sounds sharp, but there's a tremor of emotion as he speaks.
"But you're going to kill me."
There's a minute of loaded silence, like the deafening quiet after a gunshot.
"Not yet."
"Why not? Going to draw it out? Make it hurt? You don't need to make a big song-and-dance about it, if that's what you're talking about."
He winces. "They want me to do it front of people. Put on a show."
Despite the terrifying implications of what he's just said, I reply, "Who's they?"
No answer.

"Trevor-"
"Don't."
"Trevor, Trevor, Trevor. You have a crush on James, don't you? You're in Ravenclaw, but you'd feel more at home in Hufflepuff. You're wearing odd socks right now. You're going to kill me wearing socks that don't match."
I think I'm a little bit delirious, voice wobbly. I've gone into shock.
"Shut up, Evans!"
"Surely I can speak if you're going to kill me?"
"Evans, look-"
"It's Lily, remember? Unless you don't dare to call me that."
"Lily…"

The sunlight filters through the gaps in the trees.
"Trevor?"
"Yes?"
He could kill me, but he's just a little boy illuminated by the sun, with small tearful eyes and a trembling lip.
"Why are you doing this? Who told you to do this?"
"There's no one…I want to do this…I have to do this…"
"Why do you have to do this?"
"Because…it's just…my parents…"
I want to speak, but stay patiently quiet.
"They follow the Dark Lord, and they want me to join him…and if I don't the rest of them…they'll kill me…my life will be ruined…Lily I have to…I'm sorry…they'll kill me if I don't kill you…"
Trevor Bailey clenches his fists, and despite my fear and fury, I can't help but feel sorry for the fifteen year old in front of me. Not too sorry, but sorry all the same.
"I forgive you."
"What?"
"I want you to know when you do it, I have forgiven you. Others won't. They'll hate you. I might hate you, for taking away every day that I could have lived. But I have forgiven you, Trevor. I forgive you."
The boy cries then, but his wand arm never strays from aiming at my heart.

It's only a few minutes later that he jumps as his wand lights up.
"They're coming."
I straighten my hair and wipe my face of tears, wanting to look proud and dignified, but it's to no avail; Trevor waves his wand and I'm floating on air, body propped up like a puppet, tied up on the Imperius Curse's silvery strings. A second later I'm writhing on the ground disturbing the rotting blanket of soil and dead leaves because he'll use the Imperius Curse to hurt people, this monster, but not the Cruciatus Curse, because when I scream for real he flinches like the sound is acid, like it's burning him.
My forced shrieks fill the Forest air, scaring away the birds in the trees surrounding the clearing as a murder of crows dart off to the east, frightened by the sounds of the living girl dying, of the dying girl living.

When the group stampede into the clearing, it's with a final air. The Last Crusade.
I'm still shouting in fake agony, and amongst the noise the world seems to be in slow motion. I'm glad: I want to savour my last few minutes.
I want to be able to see the sun.
There are several wands pointed at Trevor, and James is near the back. His scream of anger mingles with mine, and Trevor lifts the curse, so I fall back, arms splayed, panting.
"Stay back!" The Ravenclaw's voice shakes and Professor Dumbledore speaks so low it's almost a whisper, voice calm and collected, in a manner that annoys me.
"You do not have to do this, Mr Bailey."
"Yes I do." Trevor really does whisper, and he picks me up by the back of my shirt, and it's the only thing keeping me upright, held firmly against him.
"I'm sorry."
I look around, and my eyes meet James', who looks like he's about to collapse.
"I love you, James."
"I…Lily…"

Trevor takes in a juddering breath, securing his arm around my chest, hiding my scar from the world, and prods his wand into my neck. I think he's crying.
I know James is.
I'm not.
"I love you, Lily…"
Professor Dumbledore says something, but I'm looking up at the trees, at the sunshine. There's a bird, and it chirps, tune beautiful and bright and full of hope.
I want to hear it. I want it to fill me up.
"Lily, I'm sorry."
My breathing's slowed now, accepting, and I don't want it to quicken.
The sunlight hurts my eyes, and I let it.

The bird sings out again, and I smile.
"Avada Kedrava."