If I Die Young
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from the Harry Potter universe. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and nothing more, though all ideas and writing are done by me and belong to me.
A/N: WOW. W-O-W. I know I've been absent for a long time - I greatly apologize for that. If I'm being truthful, I lost a lot of motivation to write and became incredibly blocked. I haven't really written anything in like...a year? Maybe longer? So, thank you if you are tuning in and continuing to support me. Life hands you lemons, and sometimes that means you get writer's block and have to find yourself all over again. So here we are with another chapter.
FYI: This chapter has a ******TRIGGER WARNING. ******** Please skip section: (THERE'S A BAD MOON ON THE RISE) if you are easily triggered by graphic violence and language and mentions of rape.
Enjoy!
—Annie.
XV
1979
Part One
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
The Sound of Silence—Simon & Garfunkel
(honey, let's go make some noise)
"Again? Bloody hell, you're going to kill me, woman," James pants and shoves her playfully, his forehead slick with sweat. Lily giggles as he aims a kick at her, pushing her farther across the king sized mattress.
"Please?" Lily begs, batting her eyelashes.
Coyly, she inches back to him, swings her legs over his lap so that she's straddling him. James groans as her fingers entwine in his messy hair and her lips graze his earlobe teasingly.
"Leave me alone," he whines, even as his eyes roll to the back of his head.
"I'm your wife now," she points out, crossing her arms over her bare chest. "You're stuck with me forever, you know." She circles her hips against him. "Just one more time, come on."
"Lil, I'm so tired," James rumbles, chuckling slightly, and swats her backside when she raises her eyebrows at him expectantly.
"But this is the last night of our honeymoon," she protests. "Then it's back to reality and jobs and - "
"We've got the whole rest of our lives for this," James points out, cupping her cheek. "It's not like I'm going to lose interest in you overnight, you know."
"Coward." Lily pouts but relinquishes her hold on him.
"Succubus," he retorts and burrows his head into his pillow.
"We're married," Lily states in awe of their new reality, thinking of the life that awaits them back in England.
James snorts into the pillow and pulls her close to him, nuzzling her neck affectionately. "Go to sleep, love. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
(coffee in the morning)
She smells bacon.
The familiar aroma tickles Lily's nostrils, edging her out of her slumber. With a soft groan, she kicks back the bedsheets tangled around her body and releases herself from her cocoon, rubbing at her eyes. She glares deeply at the gray sunlight flooding the master bedroom. Outside, it's still flurrying slightly from the snowstorm they'd been hit with last night.
"We need curtains," she grumbles, mentally adding the item to her list of things she still needed to procure for their new home. Throwing another moody glare at the barren window, she plops onto the plush carpet and meanders toward the kitchen.
She finds James at the stove, whistling cheerfully in tune to a song filtering out from the small muggle radio on the counter. Her lips twitch upward. She still can't get over how adorable his fascination with muggle things is. She snakes her arms around his waist, eliciting a small yelp from her new husband.
"Making me breakfast?" she pipes warmly, giving him a small squeeze. "A girl could get used to this."
James smirks and presses a kiss to Lily's forehead. "I wondered when you'd be awake."
He passes her the plate he's made up for her and her stomach growls longingly. It's loaded with her favorites - half an English muffin with homemade raspberry jam that they'd purchased at the town market shortly after returning from their honeymoon, an egg and spinach omelet with a sprinkle of turmeric and cayenne, just the way she likes it, and a modest helping of maple bacon.
"I'm going to put the kettle on," Lily says as James takes his seat at the cherry wood table. "Tea?"
He shakes his head, mouth already full of breakfast, and gestures lazily to his glass of pumpkin juice. While the water boils, Lily slips into her yellow rain boots and navy pea coat and treks through the thick layer of snow that had fallen overnight and snatches the morning paper from the icy lawn. When she returns, the kettle is shrieking.
"I've got it!" James hollers as Lily peels out of her coat and boots and pads back to the kitchen.
"Thanks," she tells him, pecking him on the cheek as he passes her a steaming mug. He tugs the Daily Prophet from her chilly fingers and plucks out the Sunday sports section.
"I'll be home a bit late tomorrow," informs James casually. The paper crinkles as he turns the page. "Probably be coming home a bit late all week, actually."
"Playing catch up?" Lily guesses, taking a cautious sip of her hot tea.
"Prancing off to tour Italy for a week tends to put a bloke a bit behind," James chortles, shrugging.
"It was worth it," hums Lily, drifting back to the honeymoon they'd returned from only two days ago. "Even so, the girls are coming by tomorrow evening, so I'll try not to miss you too much."
James rolls his eyes at her playfully. "Isn't it a tad soon for a girl's night?"
"Um, try never? They're all quite eager to hear about our trip. Besides, it will be a productive evening; they're helping me with the house."
"What more is there to be done?" James wonders, crinkling a dark eyebrow and scanning the small, dusty, and barren house.
Lily coughs exasperatedly into her tea. "Men."
"What? I'm being serious!" James exclaims. "Everything's unpacked. What more do we need?"
"Well, for starters... we're going to need a sofa, so finish your breakfast so we can head out and look for one."
James wrinkles his nose at the thought of going shopping. "Oh, Merlin. Please don't get anything floral print. I'll feel like I'm living with Mum again. I'll go mad."
"No promises," she responds airily.
"Fine..." he sighs, knowing he's fighting a losing battle. When it comes to making their house a home, they've already agreed that Lily's in charge of the decorating. "Can we at least get a television, then?"
"Only if it doesn't clash with the zebra print rug Marlene's gifting us for our house-warming party."
James groans dramatically and tosses his empty plate into the sink basin, pointedly doesn't rinse it off just to irk her. Lily just smirks in response and throws him his jacket and shoes.
There's no zebra rug and no floral couch, but she still can't help teasing him. His reactions are too adorable.
(I'll be lazing on a Sunday afternoon)
"You know, Sunday is supposed to be the day of rest."
Lily rolls her eyes and continues to scrub the sink basin clean.
"You're more than capable of helping. We have guests tomorrow, might I remind you," she hints, wiping the sink clean with a kitchen rag.
"I'm resting," James drawls pointedly from their new couch, waving his wand in rhythm to the Queen record playing in the background, as if he were some sort of music conductor.
"You're lazy," she mutters and grabs the mop. "You could put that wand to some good use, you know. There's an entire load of laundry that needs to be folded - "
With a flick of his wand, Freddie Mercury's voice grows even louder until it filters out her voice completely, and James chuckles delightedly at the malice that flashes in Lily's eyes. She clamps her mouth shut and resumes her chores. Her husband laughs at her pouting and lowers the volume, heaving himself dramatically off the couch. When he reaches her, she pretends to ignore him, even as he snakes his arms around her waist and places a warm kiss to her neck.
"The house looks tidy as can be, Lils," James tells her, spinning her around. "You worry about things too much, love. We've barely even lived in this house, there's literally nothing to clean."
He wrestles the broom from her grip and tosses it to the side. It lands with a loud clatter next to their tiny dining room table.
"Come rest with me," he pleads, pulling her toward the sofa. "You were the one who insisted we go out straight away and find a suitable couch. C'mon, let's break it in."
A mischievous smirk toys at the edge of his upper lip, coercing her to follow him.
(love starts with a toothbrush)
"How can someone so tiny take up so much space?" James grumbles, elbowing Lily in the ribs so that he could get a better look at the mirror. It's still steamy from his shower and he slides his hands along the glass to rub away the condensation.
"Are you calling me fat?" she gasps, her words muffled through her toothpaste. She deliberately spits into the sink, making sure to splatter some on his offending elbow.
"Ew! You are an actual animal," James whines, swiping at his arm.
"In the sack, perhaps," Lily hums and reaches past him to deposit her toothbrush in its holder, bumping him roughly with her hip.
"Ouch!" he howls, eyebrows knitting together in an upset fashion. "You're ridiculously bony!"
"I'm sorry, dear, you just get in the way," Lily simpers, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
"Hey - are you calling me fat?"
"Absolutely."
She makes a break for it before he can retaliate, laughing hysterically at the look on his face.
(that's all they really want, some fun)
"I brought pizza!" Dorcas greets Lily with a kiss on the cheek and swindles past her into the kitchen to set down the cardboard box of gooey goodness. "Oh, and I brought sage."
"I brought the wine, obviously," Marlene announces, bumping Lily affectionately with her hip. She slinks over to the kitchen and starts exploring cupboards for the stemmed glasses she'd gifted Lily and James at their wedding.
"What do we need sage for?" questions Lily, coughing as Dorcas sets the bundle of herbs on fire and starts waving it around Lily's cottage. Lily fans in front of her face, grimacing at the husky smell.
"Smells like marijuana," Marlene hacks, mirroring Lily.
"It does not," Dorcas argues.
"You would know," Marlene jabs but Dorcas ignores her and continues her ritual, traipsing upstairs.
"I'm cleansing your home," Dorcas informs Lily from her staircase. "So that there's no negative energy sticking around from previous tenants and such."
"Splendid," Marlene grouches as she finally discovers the wine glasses in the curio cabinet next to the table. She makes a face at the heart-shaped frame of Lily and James on their wedding day next to the glasses. "Nice shrine, Lily, very outdated. Very you."
"It was my dead grandmother's, thank you," Lily shoots back and Marlene has the decency to look embarrassed.
"Just put the thing out already, would you? It smells like an armpit," the blonde complains, glaring at Dorcas.
Lily treks over to her window and unlatches it, letting the air escape into the chilly winter evening. Dorcas finally snuffs out her sage and plops herself in a chintz armchair and begins browsing a nearby bookshelf.
"Shall we?" Marlene presses, passing the girls a glass of wine. "I'm in desperate need for some gossip."
Lily dishes up the pizza and joins her friends in the sitting room. She frowns at the empty cushion beside her. "Alice couldn't make it?"
"She had to stay late at work again tonight. She sends her love, though," Dorcas replies. "Being an auror sure keeps her busy these days."
"Yawn. Ali's got herself a job and a life, woo-hoo," Marlene mocks impatiently, mouth full of pepperoni. She slugs down a helping of Cabernet and clears her throat. "We're absolutely dying to hear about Italy."
"Tell us everything," Dorcas agrees, setting her wine down on the table. "Did you get to visit many museums? Oh, I bet the art was just to die for."
"And the men," Marlene purrs.
Dorcas aims a kick at the blonde. "I'm sure she was a little too preoccupied with her man to notice."
Lily and Marlene share a look and bust out laughing. "Subtle, Dorcas."
"I didn't mean anything by it," Dorcas chuckles, her cheeks coloring.
"Italy was beautiful," Lily sighs dreamily. "The beaches, the fashion, the wine...and the food. I'm surprised I'm still able to fit into my trousers, to be honest."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, sweet pea."
"Marlene McKinnon! You take that back!" screeches Lily.
She chucks a throw pillow at her head, just as the blonde dissolves into fits of laughter.
(only you can set my heart on fire)
Lily hears James stir from bed and turn the shower on - another early morning and late evening playing catch up. She sighs forlornly, already missing his warmth. She instinctively reaches for him but finds the space next to her empty, a crumple of sheets and dissipating body heat.
With James still in the shower, Lily tumbles out of bed and dawns her robe, stumbling tiredly down the staircase and into the kitchen. The sun is barely rising as she puts the coffee pot on, a dim orange glow dripping over the hard wood floor through the windows. When the coffee is done, she pours herself and James a steaming mug and settles at the table.
"Morning," James yawns from behind her. He pecks her on the lips and lowers himself into the chair next to her. She hands him his cup of coffee and he takes it from her gratefully, yawing again.
"Want any breakfast? I could make some eggs," Lily offers but James shakes his head and takes a long slurp from his mug.
"No time," he mumbles.
She pouts. "You have to leave so soon? The sun isn't even risen yet."
"I have a few minutes," James says and shrugs his shoulders. "I told you this week was going to be a rough one."
Lily eases forward so that her knee brushes against his thigh.
"I was just hoping we could continue what we stared last night." She taps her fingernail against her coffee mug and wets her lips tellingly.
"You're like an addict, you are."
Lily's fingers drift to her robe, pulls at the satin sash enticingly. His hazel eyes widen from behind his glasses and he bites his lip, shaking his head and releasing a small chuckle. He reaches toward her robe and her heart skyrockets in anticipation, only to practically flatline once she realizes he's tightening her robe instead of loosening it.
Heat and disappointment slide up her neck and she lets out the breath she'd been holding, blowing her hair out of her face.
"No time," he repeats pointedly.
"Not even if we make it quick?" Lily teases, caressing his chest through his robes. "We could do it right here, right over this table."
"Believe me, Lily, I'm more than tempted, but I really have to go." He kisses her chastely on the lips and deposits his coffee in the sink.
"Could you rinse that, please?"
"No time," he says again, this time with a cheeky grin.
"James Potter - "
"Sorry, love. See you later!"
Before she can throw a dish towel at him, he disappears into the Floo.
(you need to calm down)
"A little higher."
"Here?"
"Just a smidgen higher."
"How about now?"
"No, now you've gone too high. Lower it a bit. That's too low. Too low, James."
"Bloody hell, woman," James grates, shooting her an unpleasant look. "I've barely moved my wand at all!"
"Don't shout at me," caws Lily, placing her hands on her hips."It's not my fault you can't properly levitate a pair of curtains."
James attempts to correct the curtains once more. Lily clicks her tongue in annoyance and he rounds on her, irritated.
"I don't see why we need these damn drapes at all! The windows look fine."
"Because I'm the one in charge of decorating, remember? We have our house-warming party this weekend and I want everything to be - "
"Perfect, yes, I'm aware, princess."
Her blood spikes like static and she feels her hand clench against her side.
"Cut me off again and I swear to Godric, I'll - "
"What? Make me help you decorate some more? Oh, the horror!" he mocks, growing red in the face.
"James Pot - oh, now, look what you've done! They're crooked!"
"Right, yes, blame it all on me," roars James, lashing through the air with his wand. The curtains clatter to the floor. "Here's a bright idea - if you're going to continue to be such a control freak about things, how about you put up the curtains your damn self!"
"I'd do a better job than you!" she shrieks stubbornly.
"Fine!" he snarls, throwing his wand at her. It plinks off of her shoulder and smacks against the carpet.
"Fine!" she returns, seething, and kicks at his wand.
"FINE!"
He huffs angrily past her and toward the stairs. She flinches with every stomp up the stairs and nearly gasps out loud when he slams their bedroom door shut.
Moments later, she hears a toppling sound and is greeted by her pillow and the quilt from the foot of the bed being drop kicked down the steps.
"You can sleep with your bleedin' drapes for all I care!"
SLAM.
(and i wonder, are you always this late?)
It's date night, yet a certain redhead finds herself dateless, waiting on her husband to appear in the fireplace. Grandma Lois's grandmother clock chimes loudly from its home by the staircase. Lily heaves a frustrated sigh, counting each individual ding, and her frown deepens.
"Nine o'clock," she hisses to herself, tapping her stiletto against the hardwood floor. "Nine bloody o'clock."
And still no word from James, who insisted this morning that he would be home for dinner by six thirty at the latest. He'd been late three times this week alone, not to mention the countless times he'd been late since returning from their honeymoon, and normally she was very understanding with the demands of his new career, but he'd promised he would make it home for their date night tonight.
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she wonders if maybe he's dead in a ditch somewhere, killed off by some dark wizard he was tracking.
"He'd better be lying dead in a ditch," she grumbles darkly, her temper flaring.
Lily heaves her chair back. It screeches as it scrapes against the kitchen floor. She throws back the remainder of her glass of wine, which she'd been nursing for a good hour now during her wait, and then reaches for the untouched glass she'd poured for James and knocks that back as well. Then, she snatches the bottle off of the table as she stands and furiously blows out the candles on the dining table. She tosses her now empty plate into the sink and stomps up the steps, wine bottle still in hand, her harlot red stilettos clacking all the way to the master bedroom.
"Romantic date night, my arse."
The wine bottle clacks against the nightstand as Lily slams it down and kicks off her high heels. For extra measure, she chucks her shoes across the bedroom until they clack into closet door, leaving a small chip in the paint. She glares at herself in the mirror, almost offended by the embarrassing mockery of the woman staring back at her. Angrily, she rubs and smears her burgundy lipstick and dark shadow from her face, rips out her fancy up-do so harshly she manages to tear a few scarlet hairs from her scalp, and fumbles with shaking hands to unclasp her sheer black corset. After successfully disposing of her newly bought lingerie in the corner, she stomps into the bathroom and switches on the shower faucet, turning the knob to it's hottest setting.
Fully nude and body flush with rage, Lily tramples back into the bedroom as the bathroom gathers steam and rips James's pillow off of the bed, along with the quilt from the foot of the bed, and decides it is now her turn to dropkick his things down the stairs. The bedroom lock clicks into place and she huffs triumphantly, snagging the bottle of wine from the nightstand and stomping back into the bathroom.
She's got a date with herself, a bottle of wine, a hot shower, and her tears.
(when the cold front hits)
The next morning, Lily wakes early and dresses for work hastily, hoping to avoid a conversation with her husband - the last person she wants to see after last night. When she descends the stairs, shoes in hand so as not to make additional noise, she notices James still fast asleep on the sofa, huddled with his pillow and the patchwork quilt. He's snoring quietly and for the first time all week, Lily takes a long look at her over-worked husband. She feels a pang of guilt, of compassion toward him.
It fades almost as quickly as it comes as she catches a glance of herself in the hallway mirror; her cheeks are still ruddy from crying, her eyes still swollen, and a trace of lip stain is still streaked across her mouth. With an audible sniff, she swallows her broken pride and heads for the fireplace to Floo to work.
When James wakes up shortly after her departure, he notices a note left for him on the coffee table.
Going out tonight.
Might even stay over with the girls for a few nights.
Don't wait up.
-L
(no give and all take)
"Another delivery for you," says Denise, peering into Lily's cubicle. She's holding out a vase of orchids, sunflowers, and white lilies.
Lily sighs, shaking her head, and gestures to the three other vases littering her small desk.
"Tell you what, Denise," Lily starts, staring hard at the flower arrangement in front of her. "You keep them."
Denise makes a small noise of protest in her throat, nervously fiddling with her sandy Farrah Fawcett hair, and Lily waves her hand at her colleague.
"I insist. You'd be doing me a favor, really," Lily presses.
Denise shifts the vase in her arms and adjusts her wire rimmed glasses. "Well, if you're sure... they would brighten up my office space."
"Knock yourself out, my friend."
Denise gives Lily an uncertain smile and retreats into the neighboring cubicle. She returns a moment later with a stiff white card. With a roll of her eyes, Lily takes the card from Denise and swivels in her chair so that she can read the note in private.
Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry
I promise I'll make it up to you
Please come home
-James
YOUR LOVING HUSBAND WHO LOVES YOU DEARLY
WHO IS ALSO VERY SORRY
Also, you're pretty...
Lily flicks the note across her desk and into the waste basket in the corner to join the other apologies. And then promptly sets the contents on fire with a flourish of her wand. The bin crackles and steams.
"Trouble in paradise?" giggles a familiar voice. Lily's spine clicks and she turns slowly to the entrance of her cubicle.
"MacDonald," she deadpans. "I'm not in the mood."
"No matter, I've got more important things to do than keep you company," Mary clucks boastfully. "I've got a story to chase - a string of murders, in fact."
"Good for you," Lily drawls.
"Could be You Know Who related," she muses excitedly.
"Just be careful," Lily warns, her stomach knotting in apprehension. "That's hot water you could be getting into. You don't want to end up getting burned."
She winks at Lily, almost defiantly. "Ciao, now. Have fun giving relationship advice. Although by the state of your desk, I'm not so sure you are even qualified to do that."
"Listen you little mouse - " Lily starts, clenching her fist and leaping to her feet.
Just then, Mr. Walter - senior editor of the Daily Prophet - rounds the corner. "Now, now, Potter, don't get your panties in a bunch. No need to get hysterical, honestly."
Lily simmers at the man's comments and Mary snickers in delight, beaming up at Mr. Walters. "Oh, Beck, so good to see you! I just wanted to thank you again for this opportunity - "
Beck? Lily wonders inwardly. Since when is Mary on first name basis with the boss?
When she tunes back into the scene in front of her, Mary is starting for the door, blowing her a mocking kiss as her goodbye. Mr. Walter stares after the brunette a moment longer than Lily deems appropriate, and she can't help but notice the way his eyes darken at the sway of Mary's hips. Lily coughs roughly, staggering Mr. Walters out of his reverie and back to the present.
"Was there something else you wanted, Potter?" He lowers his voice several octaves so that he's barely audible. "A trip to the loo to take care of some...female needs, perhaps?"
"Are you insinuating that I'm on my period?" balks Lily, aghast. He shrugs in response, as if waiting for her to reply. "I'm not, not that it's any of your business anyway."
"Could've fooled me," he whispers, smirking at her.
He snorts when her fingers twitch and her mouth drops open in displeasure. "Oh, come on. It's all in good fun. Don't be such a tight-arse." She can't help but notice his eyes drift down her skirt, tracing the small slit in the fabric.
He claps her roughly on the shoulder before exiting her cubicle and making his way back to his office.
(won't you pardon me?)
"What a sexist pig!"
Dorcas slams her fork down on the table. The quaint cafe goes silent, all except for the clinking of glasses and whispers. Several people turn their heads to stare at her in surprise before returning to their own meals.
"He's deplorable," Lily agrees, stabbing her salad with malice. "Luckily, I don't deal with him as much as others in the department, since I'm only an advice columnist."
"Just an advice columnist, please," scoffs Dorcas, swatting her elbow. "People really respect you and take your advice close to heart, you know. You help more people than you know."
Lily gives her a thankful smile and returns to murdering her salad. "Listen, can I crash with you and Marlene for a bit?"
Dorcas quirks a dark eyebrow. "Er - I'm sure Marlene would be fine with that. Did date night not go as planned?"
Lily skewers a piece of spinach as she recounts her evening to Dorcas.
"You aren't selfish and it's okay to feel hurt," Dorcas consoles once Lily's finished, patting her hand. "Maybe some time away will do you some good. He's clearly very busy, so there's no use in you just staying at home waiting for him every day. Don't you have any hobbies to keep you busy?"
Lily stares at her blankly.
"Alice and I have started going to a yoga class every week to help her manage the stress of her job - you know how anxious she gets. Anyway, you should join us. Oh, and Sirius hosts a paint night at his bar every month and Marlene's been begging me to go, so we can do that too. It'll get you out of the house and give James a chance to miss you for a change."
"You're probably right," sighs Lily. "Count me in, I guess."
"Perfect. Now, tell me more about your disgusting boss."
(the temperature's rising in here)
Lily plumps up the pillow under her head and wriggles for the umpteenth time, trying and failing to get comfortable. It isn't that Marlene's guest bedroom is uncomfortable per se, it is just the lack of body heat next to her that makes sleep difficult to come by. She is restless the majority of the evening, tossing and turning.
Bright and early the next morning, Dorcas drags Lily to a small studio in Diagon Alley decorated with lotus flowers and floating candles. The ceiling is enchanted to look like the Northern Lights.
"Lily, Dorcas!" calls Alice in a hushed tone, waving them over to her spot in the corner. Lily squints in the dim light and assesses the floating globes of firelight twinkling magically above their heads. "I'm so glad you could make it." Alice gives Lily a comfortable smile and pats the space next to her. She's folded up like a pretzel in a way that looks daunting to Lily.
"You're going to be fine," Dorcas insists, smacking her rump. "Just relax."
Easy for you to say, Lily mumbles inwardly. She pulls the teal mat that Marlene had let her borrow and unrolls it out in front of her, several inches away from Alice and Dorcas. Uncertainly, she sinks to her knees and awkwardly places her hands on her knees.
"I haven't done yoga since I was friends with Emmeline," Lily admits quietly to Alice, glancing around the room at her fellow witches and wizards. They all look quite more advanced and comfortable than she does.
"It's easy to pick back up, I promise," Alice eases her. "I'm a beginner, too."
"Namaste," hums a voice from the front, just past Alice. Lily's spine arches when she realizes who their instructor is. Her blood orange hair is unmistakable, piled high on top of her head as it was. The Chinese symbol for perseverance shines boldly on her forearm.
"Annikah O'Clary is your yoga instructor?" Lily mutters to Alice and Alice shrugs, not even bothering to look apologetic.
"She's been practicing for years," she says.
"I'm trying to distract myself from James," Lily reminds her, mildly annoyed. "Why would you think I'd want to sit through ninety minutes of watching my husband's ex-girlfriend do back bends?"
"Don't be so hard on him, Lil," encourages Alice, giving her a sympathetic look. "I know it's difficult right now, but he's really sorry. You're all he talks about."
Lily looks away, frustrated and feeling a smidgen guilty. She stubbornly sets her chin, glaring at her bare feet. With a flick of Annikah's wand, a flurry of musical instruments began to hum from the four corners of the small studio. Annikah sinks reverently into their first pose and begins to chant.
"I'm going to grab a closer spot," Dorcas whispers, her cheeks coloring a tad as she scoops up her velvet mat and weaves her way through the crowd of stretching bodies.
Alice snickers and nudges Lily in the ribs with her elbow, nodding toward Dorcas. Annikah greets their friend with a warm and familiar smile.
"I think Dor has a crush," Alice giggles.
"Let us remember to quiet our thoughts," Annikah instructs, eyeing Lily and Alice pointedly. Lily clears her throat and Alice stifles another giggle. "Take a deep breath. When you feel ready to exhale, release your breath slowly. Practice this for a few moments, familiarizing yourself with the expansion of your lungs. Thank them for working so hard for you each day."
Annikah walks the class through their warm up and little by little, Lily notices her spine loosening and her breath deepening, her body slowing down and sinking lower into each pose.
"Think of yourself as a tree. Your feet are the roots - strong and steady, holding you in place and connecting you to the earth. You are strong, you are steady, you are rooted to the earth. You are a mighty warrior."
The class is cheesy as all get out, but it works wonders on Lily's tense muscles and despite the fact that Annikah O'Clary is leading her through these poses, Lily soon forgets about James.
(singing in the dead of night)
"I need a break," Lily announces, stretching languidly to her feet. The hardwood floor of the bar dips unsteadily under her boots and she clasps at her easel, snorting at herself.
Marlene eyes her in amusement, pausing her paintbrush against her canvas. "Oi, Sirius, you'd better cut her off."
Lily snorts again, aims a strike at the blonde, and artfully misses her by a long shot. The two of them erupt into giggles.
"Better cut the pair of you off," Sirius drawls, smirking as he appraises their paintings. When he notices Lily's he guffaws raucously for several seconds before he finally gets a grip and clutches his heart, tears practically swelling from his eyes.
"What's so funny?" challenges Lily, glaring at him defiantly.
"You - drawn - an - arse -" he pants between laughs, pointing at the plump pink-orange arrangement on the canvas.
"It's a peach, you disgusting brute!"
Still laughing, Sirius reaches past Lily and snags her bottle of beer. "Cut off, ladies."
"Lily's the tipsy one, not me," Marlene sputters in protest, yanking the bottle of beer from his hand.
"Oi, that was mine!" he caws, trying to grab it back. Marlene swivels off of her barstool and trollops away. Sirius mutters under his breath but smiles as he chases after her, following her lithely around the crowded bar. No one seems to even bat an eye as they weave between customers and tables, bumping chairs aside and sending bowls of mixed nuts flailing off the counter.
"Paint night is a real hit," comments Remus, drawing his sweater closer around his thin frame.
Lily frowns at him but he pretends not to notice, nursing his small glass of red wine. If James were here, he'd make some jab at him about how much more sophisticated Remus was than the rest of them.
"He's really sorry, you know," Remus says, catching on to her thoughts. Her eyes widen at him and he shrugs. "Lily, we've been best mates for years. I know that face means you're thinking about James."
Lily sighs and pushes her bangs out of her eyes. She feels something slick and wet swipe across her forehead before she realizes she's still holding her paintbrush. Remus chuckles into his hand and snags the brush from her grip before she can do further damage.
"Perhaps you have had one too many," Remus agrees, watching her stumble.
"I can handle my liquor better than any of you," boasts Lily, jabbing a finger into his cable knit. "It's just hot in here, that's all. I just need some fresh air."
"Want me to walk you home?" Remus wonders, checking his wristwatch. "It's close to midnight. I'm sure James is still awake if you want to talk to him."
"I'm staying with Marlene and Dorcas," Lily reminds him, folding her arms pointedly across her chest.
"Fine, then can I walk you to Marlene's?" he corrects himself with an eye roll.
"No, thank you," she declines with a superior sniff. "I can manage myself. Besides, it's not that far."
"Lil - "
"Moony, don't be such a worry wort," Lily teases and embraces him before gathering her painting and saluting her goodbye. "I'm a big girl - I'll be fine walking down the street."
Remus still looks reluctant but lets her go, attempting to flag down Marlene, no doubt to tell her to walk Lily home herself.
Lily slips out the back and into the alley by the dumpsters, shrugging into her corduroy jacket. The evening is chilly and brisk against her uncovered face and her breath comes out in visible puffs.
"An arse," she mumbles to herself, peering down at her peach. She tilts it to the side and then tilts her head, too. "Ah, I see it now." She releases another snort and rolls her eyes. Her boots clomp against the cobblestone as she stumbles toward the dumpster. She heaves open the lid and flings her painting into the basin. It thunks loudly when it hits the bottom, joining the rubbish pile of glass bottles and rotten lettuce.
Thud.
Lily's head jerks upward at the sound and the dumpster lid jumps from her grip, crashing down and narrowly missing her fingers. She turns on her heel, suddenly on high alert. Her eyes strain in the darkness and she glares accusingly at the flickering and dimming light above the bar's back entrance. How many times did she have to tell Sirius to replace the bulb?
"Don't be so paranoid," Lily grumbled at herself.
Maybe she had had too much to drink. The idea annoyed her and she huffed past the offending dumpster and headed toward the street, hands in her pockets. Hogsmeade had long since shut down for the night except for the bar and the small flophouse a few doors down. The shop owners had wasted no time in preparing the village for the holidays and even in the foggy night, it looked like a cozy Christmas postcard.
Crack.
Lily lurched at the sound—a loud snapping, like a branch under a heavy boot—and checks over her shoulder, peering past the small cemetery and through the trees.
"Get a grip," she urges herself, pulling her scarf closer around her neck.
Crunch.
She comes to a full top then, whipping around so fast that her scarf unfastens, slipping to the cobblestones below, and her hair snaps harshly across her cheek. This time she inspects her surroundings more carefully, a hand drifting instinctively toward her wand. It is hard to see—her eyes haven't fully adjusted to the bleak, dark night and the only light is the bright silver dollar of the full moon above, and even that is half obscured by fog.
But then she sees it.
A figure, draped in a black cloak, outlined in the shadows of the flickering orange hues of the streetlamp. An icy hands rakes chills down the notches of her spine and she paralyzes, swallowing hard.
It leans casually against the lamppost, its hood cloaking its face. Heart sputtering, she blinks several times, certain the alcohol was just toying with her.
It's just a trick of the light.
However, the figure remains when she reopens her eyes, and takes a slow, deliberate step forward.
Crunch.
She recognizes the sound now — the sound of hardened snow flattening under the pressure of weight. The figure is headed in my direction, weaving between tombstones expertly, flawlessly.
"Fuck," Lily releases, stumbling backward.
Her boots scrape unpleasantly against the street. She chances a glance over her shoulder, to assess the rest of her environment. She can still see the flickering of the light outside the bar, wonders if she can make a break for it. Adrenaline spikes sticky in her veins, blood thundering in her ears, and without a second thought, she breaks out into a full sprint back toward the bar.
Above the sound of her hammering heartbeat, she could hear them close and urgent on her heels, their feet stamping into the stone with a loud clunk, clunk, clunk. She opened her mouth to scream but she could could barely even breathe against the harsh wind in her face, much less whimper. She had to do something, anything—
She plummets to the pavement, her face crashing hard into an empty crate. The crate splinters against her, splitting her lip and lacerating her temple. Her chaser had tried to stun her, missing by a mere centimeter and colliding with the edge of her boot she guessed, since the force of the spell had sent her reeling.
"Wand," Lily gasps, scrambling to her knees.
Blood spits from her mouth, drips over her eyelid. She lashes out wildly in the darkness, nails ripping against the pavement.
"Where's— my—wand—fuck." Her voice is slippery and distorted, unrecognizable.
There's a hollow laugh, directly behind her.
"Well, well, if it isn't Potter's little mudblood whore."
She can't place the voice—her head is throbbing too hard and her ears are cymbals.
"I want you to give him a message for me."
Their voice sounds like gravel, low and scratchy. She kicks out with her boot, colliding the heel with something fleshy.
"Bitch," the figure hisses and she flails again. Before she can get another strike in, something hard connects with her throat and sends her careening backward into the harsh metal of the dumpster. Her scream rips into the winter night, shattering around her and then breaking off unexpectedly, disappearing with a gasp.
She's still screaming, but the air has gone still, haunted and hushed. She's been silenced. Realizing this with horror, she flings herself into the dumpster again, clattering the metal with her fists as hard and loud as she can muster. There's a blinding tearing as fistfuls of holly red hair are snatched forcefully backward, slashing at her scalp and wrenching at her skull. Hot tears pool in her eyes but still no screams escape her ragged throat.
"Troublesome bint," the voice snarls and the malice in their words hardens in Lily's abdomen. "Pertificus Totalus."
This is it, Lily cries out inside as her body stiffens and turns to stone, they're going to kill me and send my corpse to James. I never even got to kiss him goodbye.
Helpless, she felt them rip at her jacket, buttons scattering across the alley and then heard the tear of fabric. Her skin raised goosebumps against the onslaught of breeze against newly exposed skin. Something metallic and cold sliced deeply into her abdomen and began to burn as if she'd been cast into the very depths of hell.
If she could have screamed, perhaps someone might have come to help her.
But she was alone.
(there's a bad moon on the rise)
The pain is absolute torture, like hot spikes and brutal teeth gnawing at her charring flesh, slicing away every molecule of sanity that belongs to her.
She fades in and out of consciousness. For a brief moment, she feels a pair of thin, chapped lips press against her own. Her insides roar as a tongue molests its way into her mouth and a pair of sharp teeth bleed deeper into the wound on her bottom lip. A hot, rancid breath chuckles over her face, but she still can't make out the features obscured within the darkness of their hood.
"You're nothing but a whore," they bite into Lily's ear. "My whore."
Something wet slithers against her ear and a deep groan, low and visceral and animalistic vibrates at her cochlea.
"You're just like your dirty, worthless worm of a mother, aren't you? You're all the same," the voice continues. "I'll find her too, you know. I'll open her muddy, disgusting veins while she begs me until she bleeds black into the earth and then I'll fuck her cold, pathetic slit while you watch. And when that's over, I'll have my fun with you, pet. That's a promise."
Teeth nip threateningly against her earlobe and acid burns deep within her chest.
"Tell Potter I'll be back." Lily hears them sniff deeply against her hair and feels a tug against her scalp, watches in repulsion as a black gloved hand runs a serrated blade against a long, thick tendril of her hair, lopping it off with a cold finality.
"Until next time, swine."
There's a sickening crack, an eruption of pain, and a hideous cloud of laughter.
Lily collapses into a swell of black.
(sleeping somewhere cold)
Lily comes to, startled by a loud shriek.
"James..." she croaks and immediately winces.
Her throat feels raw, blistered.
"Oh my God," she hears someone stammering. "Help! We need some help!"
She hears a smattering of things after that— a flurry of footsteps, the smashing of a door against brick wall, a low howl, much like a wounded dog.
"Lily!"
Hands circled her biceps, shaking her form roughly.
"She's not moving," someone whimpers.
"No shit, Sherlock. Close us down—we're going into lockdown. Send for law enforcement, right away. The monster that did this could still be out here."
"Wh-What?"
"Do as I say!"
There's a hissing sound and a mask of red light erupts into the sky. Footsteps retreat and an alarm goes off, blaring three times.
"Sir- ss?"
"Shh, Lily, I'm right here," Sirius comforts. "You're safe."
With an immeasurable amount of strength, Lily manages to open her eyes again. Sirius has her pressed against his chest. His eyes are wide and fearful. She's never seen him look so small. He eased her into his grasp and stood shakily to his feet, kicking the door closed behind him as he carried her into the bar. There was a loud clamoring and a shrill scream of horror and the crowd erupted into hurried conversation.
"Is that Lily?" wails Marlene. "What happened?"
Lily smiles up at her friend. "Marly."
"Don't try to speak, love," Marlene insists, clutching Lily's arm. She turns to Sirius in alarm, openly sobbing. "Why is there so much blood, Sirius?"
"We've got to take her to the infirmary," Remus barks, his tone hard as steel. "She's lost too much blood. I'll send for James."
"Should've—listened to—you—" Lily hiccups against an onslaught of tremors. Her adrenaline is crashing. Her eyelids tremble.
"Lily, look at me," Sirius commands, slapping her cheek lightly. "Honey, I need you to stay awake, okay?"
She tries. She really does.
(every silent scream we make)
Lily starts, a scream lodged deep in her throat.
"Whoa, hey, you're okay—don't pull those out. Shit, she's having a fit again. Remus, get a healer, quick!"
She thrashes in panic. Why is she restrained? Her insides are on fire.
"Ow, oh—make it stop—please, it hurts—"
Is that her voice—that mangled croak?
"It's okay, Lil, calm down, sweetheart. Can we get someone in here, please?"
The pain is too much.
And now she can scream.
It reverberates off the walls.
(i feel so unsure)
She wakes again to four white walls. There's a sleeping blonde at the foot of her bed, slumped over, holding onto Lily's foot like a teddy bear.
"Marlene?" Lily moans, struggling to sit up. Marlene snaps awake and is at her side in seconds, pushing her hair out of her face.
"Baby, don't strain yourself," Marlene orders, pushing lightly on her shoulder so that her body sinks back down onto the bed.
"Wh—Where am I?" croaks Lily, blinking in disorientation.
"You're at St. Mungo's," comes another voice and Lily turns toward the doorway, squinting.
"Your eyesight will level out in a moment. It's just the pain potions we administered," explains the stranger—a matronly female in white Healer robes with salt and pepper hair and a thick Irish accent. "I'm Healer Mallory. Can you tell me your name, dear?"
Lily blinks, her vision beginning to clear. "Er...what? Lily, my name is Lily. Lily Evans—I mean, Potter. My last name is Potter now."
Healer Mallory nods at Marlene and waves commandingly at a chart and quill floating next to her head. The quill begins scribbling excitedly against the chart.
"Do you remember what happened to you, love?" asks the healer.
Lily opens her mouth, shuts it. Opens it again.
"You were attacked," Marlene prompts her and the healer glowers at Lily's friend disapprovingly.
"She needs to detail everything herself," Healer Mallory scolds and glances over her shoulder. "A law enforcement official will be in shortly to ask some more questions—they're just finishing up with your friends outside. I'll be back in a moment."
"Where's James?" Lily questions and Marlene bites her lip and squeezes Lily's hand reassuringly.
"Remus sent a patronus when we found you. He'll be here as soon as he can."
"Is he okay?" Lily demands and Marlene nods hurriedly. She heaves a sigh of relief and begins to sob. Marlene skirts across the room in seconds, pulling Lily to her chest.
"I thought I would never see him again," Lily gasps. "I was sure I was dead. Are you sure I'm not dead, Marlene?"
"Don't talk like that," Marlene says, voice heavy with emotion. "Don't ever talk like that again."
Eventually, Lily's sobs subside.
"I'm tired," Lily exhales, suddenly exhausted.
"Close your eyes and rest, sweetie," Marlene says softly, kissing her on the head. Lily notes that her lips are much softer than the figure in the alleyway.
"Tell James I love him," murmurs Lily.
"You'll tell him yourself."
Lily slips away again.
(this doesn't hurt)
Lily tries to remember everything.
"I'm sorry, I really am trying. It's a little foggy," she admits in dismay, clutching her aching head. "I remember the alley outside the bar... I hit my head on something when my attacker tried to stun me."
The law enforcement representative nods encouragingly—they'd already visited this detail multiple times. The officer questioning her is a female, as per protocol.
"I remember...trying to scream."
This is new. The officer sits up a little straighter.
"What did you scream?" she prods.
Lily shakes her head. "I—I didn't."
Marlene is sitting in the chair in the corner, trying not to cry, trying to smile and nod at Lily. Bless her, she's trying her best to be strong so that Lily can be strong.
"It's okay, Lily, just try your best," Marlene pipes up after a moment.
"Take your time," agrees the female officer. "There's no rush."
"He silenced me," Lily recounts, eyes growing foggy with memory.
"So, your attacker was a man?"
Lily swallows harshly and sighs in frustration. "I—I think so. The things that were said...I don't think it was a woman."
"But you're not sure?" presses the officer.
"They were in a hood," Lily says, growing frustrated. "I've already told you this."
"Lily, it's okay—"
Lily's eyes flash at Marlene. "Don't. Stop telling me that it is okay. None of this is okay!"
Marlene clamps her mouth shut.
"Marly, I'm sorry—" Lily starts.
"I'm going to see if Sirius has heard from James," she says as she passes the officer and drifts out the door.
"I know this is very difficult, but it's really important you tell us everything you can so we have more to go on," the officer expresses, gaining back Lily's attention.
Lily tries again.
(do you feel better now?)
"She's in here –"
Lily sits up straight, recognizing Sirius's voice, and sighs in relief. Sirius turns the corner and enters Lily's hospital room with a grim expression.
"Hey, Snuffles," she whispers, beckoning him over.
He gives her hand a quick squeeze before stepping away from her and sinking into a nearby chair.
"Someone's here to see you, Lily Flower," Sirius announces and nods toward the door.
"Oh, Lily. My Lily."
Her heart crashes and she begins to sob for the millionth time.
"James."
He smells of black pepper and sandalwood and sweat.
"I came as soon as I could. I'm so sorry I wasn't here."
His lips find hers almost instantly and she grips his elbow, wincing away from him.
"Sorry, my lip still hurts a little," she tells him and he traces her bottom lip tenderly with his thumb.
"Who did this to you?" he demands and glances frantically over at Sirius and Marlene, who has taken the empty seat next to Sirius.
"She doesn't know," Marlene answers. "She told law enforcement everything that she can remember, please let's not put her through it again. She's not ready."
"Of course," James agrees quickly, and nods over at Sirius. "You'll fill me in on everything, Padfoot."
It isn't a question or a request.
"They're keeping her overnight to monitor her. She had some pretty bad head injuries and —" Marlene trails off and her eyes land on Lily's abdomen briefly before she swallows deeply and shakes her head. "I'm going to grab some coffee."
Her departure is too quick and anxiety prickles under Lily's fingernails.
"What else are they monitoring?" Lily presses, staring hard at Sirius. "What aren't you telling me?"
Sirius sighs, glancing worriedly at James. "Well, there's still part of the attack that you don't have much memory of. You were in a lot of pain when it was happening and afterward it kept making you pass out. They think it overloaded you and your brain in protecting you now that they are managing your pain and took care of most of it."
"What happened?" she repeats, dead faced. "Tell me."
"I'll grab the healer," Sirius relents. When he returns with Healer Mallory moments later, they both look grim. "Prongs, maybe you should leave for this."
"No," James and Lily say in unison, her desperate, him stern.
"Very well, then you'd better sit down," Healer Mallory says. "It will be hard, but please try to remain calm."
Healer Mallory opens Lily's medical dress, revealing an abdomen patched with blood-stained gauze.
"You were pretty severely mangled when you came to us," Healer Mallory begins calmly. Her voice is gentle and poised, her face sympathetic and practiced. "You're in the trauma unit, dear."
Lily's heart drops significantly.
"That's not possible," she argues. "I don't even feel that bad, really. Just weak and tired. My throat is a little dry."
"Mrs. Potter, we believe you were tortured," says the healer. "Your abdominal injuries indicate this to be the case."
Slowly, Lily begins to remember.
"He had a knife."
The healer nods and James startles. Sweat begins to bead around his brow.
"He—He cut my hair?" Her hand moves absently toward her hair.
"What?" hisses James, looking pale. He swivels toward Sirius who looks ready to puke himself.
The fog is furling away, seeping out of the small room.
"I can...smell him..." Lily whispers, remembering the feeling of acid rising in the back of her esophagus.
Her chest begins to constrict. The tremors in her hands start back up.
"James," Lily says suddenly. Everyone looks at her in surprise. "He—He mentioned James—he was talking about my husband."
The healer nods, snapping her fingers at the floating chart by her side.
"He mentioned me?" James repeats.
"What did he say, Lil?" inquires Sirius quietly. His eyes are dark pinpricks. "Say it."
"He said he was going to give you a message," Lily says finally, glancing up at James. "And to tell you that he'd be back soon."
James sets his jaw. He's visibly shaking, but unlike Lily, it has nothing to do with the anxiety. Sirius stands slowly and starts toward James, as if approaching a wild animal.
"Show me," James grinds out, glaring toward the healer.
Healer Mallory keeps her eyes trained on Lily.
"Do you remember anything else, Mrs. Potter?" she asks Lily, who shakes her head. "Very well, then."
The bandage is removed. Her abdomen reminds her of the flesh of a burn victim, charred and peeling and angry red and black. There's something carved into the skin.
"What does that say?" Lily's voice comes out hard, determined, edgy. She watches the healer closely and even the trauma specialist, who is trained to keep composure, quakes.
"It says Voldemort."
Lily's mind breaks. All she can do is scream.
She remembers everything.
The smell of his breath.
The gravel in his voice.
The sting of his teeth against her flesh.
The sickness of his tongue.
The pinch of the blade.
The fire.
Every. Little. Detail.
James screams, too.
He throws a chair and dents a wall.
Sirius has to tackle him to the ground.
Marlene stands in the doorway.
Drops her coffee.
Remus catches her as she collapses to the linoleum.
Lily can't stop screaming.
Her throat bleeds.
End of XV: 1979
Part One
As always, I live only for your feedback, so please leave me a review down below!