Summer was essentially quiet for Lydia, except for the almost regular stream of owls going to and fro between herself and her friends. Mostly these were highly predictable letters, Lily and Mary and Artemis telling her all about what they were up to, asking what she was doing without them, her responding with as few lies as possible, and keeping careful track of each lie, just in case she would have to produce them again later.
She did, however, receive a very out-of-the-ordinary letter about two weeks into July that summer.
Dearest Lydia,
I hope you're having a good summer.
Perhaps I shouldn't have expected for you to write to me by now, but I have to say I'm a bit disappointed that you have yet to contact me. But you're probably really busy, so I thought I'd take a moment to make the effort and write you first.
James and I have been having a great summer, being doted on thoroughly by Mrs. Potter as usual. It's great to be around the people I care about, but it would be better if I were with you.
Maybe this is forward, maybe even too forward, but I decided there was no time like the present to finally say it.
You probably already know this, but I am in love with you.
You don't have to say anything if you don't know what to say, but I needed to say it, because I stay up at night thinking about you and how beautiful you are and how badly I want to tell you all the things I think about you, but I've always been too worried that I'll scare you away.
I mean, you may not realize this, but you're quite shy.
So, with nothing but hope to sustain me, your love always,
Sirius
Lydia had sighed, vaguely exasperated with this letter. First of all, of course she knew he was in love with her, and he knew she knew. The very idea of him sending the letter, then, was a bit of a ridiculous moot point.
What was more, of course she knew she was shy! She knew better than anyone all of the fears that plagued her heart, all of the things she could never say to another human because there was just too much weighing on the reception of her words. Everyone knew she was shy, so of course she knew.
But the part that bothered her most was where he talked about his summer with James, assuming that she wanted to hear all about it, assuming that it wouldn't bother her to hear about someone else's great summer, assuming that she was, in fact, having a good summer.
As far as summers went for Lydia, it wasn't a bad one, but it wasn't the sort of summer she would particularly want to talk about when she went back to school for her final year. She sighed, putting down the letter, rubbing her eyes, and trying to decide what to say in response.
Finally, she pulled out a fresh bit of parchment and began to write.
Dear Sirius,
Thank you for the letter. I'm having a perfectly agreeable summer. It's about the same as every year.
I'm sorry I hadn't written. I wasn't aware that you were expecting me to write, and I've been very busy. I didn't want to upset you.
I'm glad you're enjoying your summer.
See you at school.
Lydia
She read it over three times before deciding that it was the only appropriate way she could respond, and then she sealed it and sent it off with Sirius's owl.
Lydia did not know whether or not to expect a reply, but she hoped that it would be the end of the love letters for the summer. She'd never been very good at being on the receiving end of such things, and she shuddered, thinking of the first year who wrote her the love sonnet the year before. She'd embarrassed the poor boy just by trying to be polite. It had been a disaster, and Lily had chastised her for not handling it better.
How was one even supposed to handle having a first year write them love poetry?
Lydia didn't know. She knew even less how to handle Sirius while she tried to sort out her emotions, or rather put off trying to sort out her emotions. She watched after where the owl had flown away and she sighed, sipping her morning tea, thinking that perhaps she needed to really think about it after all. There was so much going on, so many things she needed to sort through….
Speaking of things to do, she had laundry she needed to address, including a load that she had air-drying upstairs.
There was no point trying to air-dry laundry outside. The pollution in her neighborhood would make it so that she would just have to wash the clothes all over again. She took great precautions to ensure that dripping laundry would not damage floors and ceilings, but it was tiresome.
Lydia went about washing her fresh load of laundry, careful to sort them so that nothing that couldn't be used in a dryer was in this load. Air-drying clothes was a painful imposition, even compared with hand-washing.
She ran over the letter Sirius had sent her in her mind as she loaded the washing machine. On the one hand, it was an aggravating letter.
But on the other hand, she hadn't expected him to actually ever finish writing her a love letter, much less send it. Sure, the starts he'd had on the others were better, but sending the letter felt like a big step forward for him, and Lydia didn't know what she was going to have to contend with when she saw him at school again. Would he be even more aggressive and obvious, or would he take her letter as a hint that she felt uncomfortable with such obvious attentions?
There was no telling with Sirius.
When she had finished laundry for the day, Lydia – inspired by the letter from Sirius – pulled out some parchment and began to write a love letter of her own.
Dear Remus,
Thank you for the letter. I'm doing well enough. You know, getting by, as always.
Mostly I've just been writing to people. I know Lily wants me to come over for a girl's night, but I'm not sure I'll be able to go. I miss you all. I miss school, even. It's strange how lovely homework looks when you haven't done any in weeks.
Granted, I'm not looking forward to N.E.W.T. year, but…
Anyway, James will probably kill me when he finds out how I've once again not practiced. I'm not sure what part of "Muggle neighborhood" he's not understanding, but it's not as if I'd be able to practice in the house. Perhaps he'll buy it if I tell him I did practice. Although when he sees how out of shape I am come September he might not actually believe me.
It's not entirely my fault, of course. Not only is playing Quidditch a bad idea in my neighborhood, but going running alone is as well.
Don't worry, though, I'm quite safe. I know that once a year you'll tell me to be careful whether I want you to or not, but I don't leave the house much. The house itself is quite safe. My father took every precaution upon buying it, not really trusting the Muggles in the area. As far as Death Eaters, which I'm sure is your next thing, I'm fairly certain they wouldn't bother with me. I'm not high on the list, being a half-blood. And I've put extra protections on the more important rooms of the house, my bedroom for one.
It's so nice, isn't it, being allowed to do magic at home! I don't do it much, just because I feel more occupied when I do most things the Muggle way, but it speeds up more unpleasant tasks, and that's a relief. I had so many chores to do when I got home, but I got to use my wand for most of them.
Are you visiting the Potters at all this summer? I can't remember if you said on the train. If you do, don't tell James you've heard from me, especially when it comes to Quidditch. I've been ignoring his letters. Eventually I expect to get a Howler, but for now I'm contented to pretend they're not getting to me.
I sincerely hope you're having a fantastic summer. I think we all need a good rest before N.E.W.T. year, right?
I've been thinking of cutting my hair, just for a change. What do you think?
The worst part of summer, of course, is not seeing you every day. I still see you, when I close my eyes. Most nights I dream about you. It's not the same, though. I think of the kiss you gave me for my birthday all of the time, but it's not as strong of a memory as it was.
Lily mentioned in her last letter that you've not been writing as much as usual. Is everything okay? It's weird, right, getting reading for the last year at Hogwarts. The real world looks so much different than it did when I first when to school. Everything's changed, literally everything….
Oh, I think I discovered a new corollary to Barker's Theorem. I told you about Barker's Theorem, right? Very problematic for proponents of the virtues of the number three, but I think I've found a way to addend it to be more agreeable to three within correlation to sevens and refractory numbers…. Well, it's a bit complicated and I haven't fully tested it yet, but it's got promise I think.
That's been my favorite part of summer, actually. I get so much uninterrupted time to just read, write, study…. I don't have to worry about drama at school or the war or anything else that makes life difficult. I can simply be. The books Artemis and Sirius got me have been immensely helpful additions to my library, and I think I'm making real progress toward something I can use to solidify career in academics.
Anyway, I'm probably boring you with all sorts of technical information you don't even understand or care about, and you probably like to take time off work during the holidays. Everyone else seems to.
Hope to hear from you soon! Maybe we'll bump into each other next month during shopping. I'll probably be alone again this year…. We could make a day of it, you, me, Lily, whoever shows up. Let me know if anyone has decided when they're going.
Stay well, have fun!
Love,
Lydia
She took a deep breath and read the letter three times to be sure of it. Perhaps not her best letter, but she would like to think that it was sight better than the one she'd received from Sirius. When she was satisfied that it was complete and without error, Lydia folded and sealed the letter, sending it on to Remus and looking out the window after the owl.
What would it be like to sprout wings? She could fly, fly away. It wouldn't really solve her problems. She already had a broom after all. It wasn't that she had no way to leave, but that she had nowhere to go.
She slid to the floor hugging her knees to her chest and thinking about Remus, closing her eyes and trying to picture his face. The scarring changed every time she saw him, always at least one more scar on his face. But his eyes, they were always the same, always a beautiful, dependable constant that she could stake her emotions and desires upon. Lydia could not feel his lips when she pursed hers together, but she could pretend that she did, and that was something.
She only allowed herself to indulge for a few minutes though, before her stomach growled and she knew she had to eat something for dinner.
Lydia made her way to the kitchen, began cooking some potatoes and making a quick salad, and she then put the kettle on. Lydia pulled out her list of things to do and went over it with a quill, crossing off a few menial tasks like laundry, which would no doubt be back on the list by the end of the week. She would need to get some more thread because she had no way of darning socks with magic. Not that she was particularly good at it without magic, but it had to be done.
The kettle began to make noise, so she went back into the kitchen, prepared tea that she put on the coffee table, then she went and got the potatoes, prepared them, and stuck them on the plate next to the salad. She carried her plate out where her tea was and she sat across from the window that faced the house across the street, the Snape house.
After a brief hesitation, she opened the blinds, not all the way, but just enough to see. She sat down on the sofa and began to eat as she watched the shadows she could see across the street in the windows.
She could see the shadows of Eileen, Tobias, and Severus Snape almost every night if she felt like watching, until they turned off the lights and wet to sleep. Most nights, Lydia did not feel like watching. Most nights, Lydia would rather watch the news. At least when she watched the news, she didn't know the people suffering.
It bothered her less when Tobias Snape was beating his wife, which he was doing while Lydia ate her potatoes. She hardly knew the woman. She looked like her son, not especially pretty but not awful when she worked at it. Lydia would never tell a soul, especially not Severus, but when she wanted to feel better about herself she would say that at least she would always be better-looking than Eileen Snape.
Severus wore it better, anyway. And he wasn't particularly fond of his mother, although she wasn't as bad as his father.
How could she be, with the awful man hitting her like she was a punching bag?
Lydia shivered, sipping her tea. Maybe it was morbid, watching like this, but she felt better knowing what Severus was going through than hearing about it after and being blindsided.
Severus was in his bedroom, reading a book. Likely he had put some sort of charm on the door so he didn't have to listen to his mother's screams. It was amazing that no one had called the police, actually, with how loud the violence got some nights.
But then, that was Lydia's neighborhood. If you pretended you didn't see it, you couldn't be targeted later.
She set down her tea and picked up her potatoes again. They were filling at least, even though she didn't eat many at a time. They also were a bit bland, but she didn't think spices were worth investing in.
There was a sound of shrieking and she realized that Tobias Snape was now bashing Eileen's head against the wall. Severus apparently didn't have a silencing charm up, because she saw him freeze in the midst of turning the page at the sound. As the screams grew louder, he put his book down and Lydia shook her head, putting down her potatoes in horror.
"No," she whispered. "No, please don't go downstairs, Severus. Please, please, please."
She closed her eyes and she could hear him telling her that he would be right back.
"Please don't leave me, Severus. Please."
"Stay here, Lydia. Stay put."
She did not stay put. If he was going to be foolish she had to follow him. She couldn't let…she couldn't….
She opened her eyes again, feeling the tears on her cheeks when she saw that Severus had reached the front room and was pulling his father off his mother.
"No," she squeaked, torn between watching and closing the curtains. "Just let her die, Severus. It's not worth this."
Tobias Snape had let go of his wife, though, and had turned his full attentions to his son.
Lydia could see Eileen Snape slide down the wall. Perhaps she was dead. There was really no way to tell, from this distance.
For a brief moment, Lydia thought of calling the police herself. It could be anonymous. No one would have to know it was her.
Except Severus would know it was her, and he would be furious. If his father found out it was her, too, Severus might actually kill him to keep her from getting hurt, and Lydia wasn't sure she wanted that on her conscience.
But if his mother was lying there, dying, did she want that on her conscience?
Lydia shivered, closing her eyes.
We tell no one, Lydia. Just like always, we say nothing. I'll clean up. You stay upstairs and I'll bring you tea. But we tell no one. Everything's going to be all right. Everything's going to be fine.
She opened them again and saw that Tobias Snape had knocked Severus unconscious, although she knew in her heart that it wasn't worse than that. Bored with his rage, Tobias went out of the front room, leaving the light on. Lydia watched, heart pounding in her throat.
After about three minutes, Severus began to stir.
Lydia held her breath as he got to his feet slowly, clutching his head. He checked his mother's pulse, pulled out his wand, and began basic Healing charms.
So she wasn't dead.
We tell no one.
She saw him turn and his shadow looked at her from across the street. He knew she was watching. He nodded at her slightly, still clutching his head.
If she had a little less regard for her own life and safety, she might have gone to help him. But Lydia was a coward, so she just closed her curtains.
Another secret they shared, nothing more.
