Author's Note: Hi everyone! I hope most of you are still alive! (and also still reading, but I'm setting the bar low). I did some quick math... This is the first chapter in about a year and a half. In total, I've been writing this story for a whopping 6.5 years. That said, I've been working on it in earnest for about 3 years. Which almost completely matches the amount of time that Lily has simply aged during this story. I bet you guys assumed I had named it 'Years Apart,' because Lily and James are, themselves, years apart, right? Well, turns out it was a self-deprecating joke about the time between chapters...

If any of you are still hanging on (and I know there are at least a couple of you, thanks to the comments and tumblr messages), I just want to give you some sincere thanks, from the bottom of my heart. I am determined that this. Story. Will. Never. Die. (Until it is completed, that is). But despite my intrinsic motivation, I can't tell you how helpful your comments are. You really are the best!

In other news, this chapter is a tad different from the others. I hope it's easy enough to follow. That said, if it isn't - do let me know. I can always revise!

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

In retrospect, it was remarkable just how usual Lily found the first week of the new semester.

The tail end of her holidays had been just as magical and surprising as the beginning. She had spent her Christmas lounging in the common room in pyjamas eating candy with Sirius and James (less the one hour that the two of them had gone to visit James' parents). That evening, the three of them had made their way down to the Christmas Feast, where Lily had the unique experience of eating dinner at the same table as her fellow professors and headmaster. Of course, prior to the feast, Lily, James, and Sirius had exchanged numerous predictions for the evening, causing them all to giggle uncontrollably throughout the entire meal based on their professors' actions – for instance, when Slughorn complimented Dumbledore on the turkey for the fifth time ('This really is marvelous turkey, Albus. Simply marvelous.'). The last, and most significant surprise, however was New Year's Eve. Rather like a math problem Lily would have had to solve at muggle school, James had distracted Lily while Sirius and Remus had apparated Peter, Mary, Marlene, and Alice to Hogsmeade so that the eight of them could celebrate together. After sobbing uncontrollably about how the others had cut their holidays three days short, Lily eventually relaxed (partially attributable to another mildly-spiked butterbeer) and enjoyed the evening. Among other misadventures, the evening was most notable for them setting off a loud series of fireworks from the Astronomy Tower. Lily had to imagine that the professors were off celebrating in their own way, because the Marauders had made no effort whatsoever to hide their antics, yet they still proceeded without repercussion.

And then, before she knew it, school had resumed. Classes started on a Friday and the fifth-years were thrown right in to double Defence Against the Dark Arts. In years prior, Lily had always felt a tad ambivalent about this class – it was academically fascinating but, more often than not, socially embarrassing – but this year felt different. Since forming her impromptu night-classes, Lily was exhilarated. She actually used the new journal Petunia gave her for Christmas to start a list of all the different spells they could practice at future sessions. Later that night, they did just that.

Saturday had been designated in advance as a 'girls' night,' primarily as Mary, Marlene, and Alice wanted Lily to regale them with tales of Christmas break. At Lily's request, they had circled round to the kitchens ahead of time to obtain several bowls of popcorn (a favourite snack of Lily's that the girls had never tried). Then, summoning her Gryffindor courage and channelling her 'spontaneous upper year' spirit, she had told them all about where she had been sleeping over the break and her family's assumptions about her relationship status. Needless to say, there were squeals of delight so loud that Lily was almost afraid the Marauders would hear if they were lingering in the common room. But at this point, she was so accustomed to this reaction from her friends, all she could think was: new year, same old story.

Sunday, by contrast, had seemed more noteworthy at the time. Anxious to hit the ground running for the semester (and painfully aware that she had done nothing of the sort for the rest of the weekend), Lily had headed to the library, keen on making a dent on her Transfiguration paper. After an embarrassingly long period of procrastinating (she really had gotten out of the swing of things during the holidays), she was finally getting in the zone when a couple of girls approached the table where she had sprawled with her many books and belongings. Lily could see them out of her periphery, hovering, but chose to selectively ignore them while she scribbled down her thought. When it was clear they weren't leaving, she looked up. One was in Hufflepuff, the other Ravenclaw; Lily was vaguely aware of both of them. "Sorry," one of them coughed as soon as their eyes met. "Do you mind if we sit here?"

Lily looked around, appraising the library. It was a busy day, but there were certainly spare tables, and she had no idea why they would want to sit here of all places. Still, it was unthinkable to refuse. "Er, sure," she mumbled, closing a few of the books she was no longer using them and stacking them to occupy less space.

"I'm Cynthia," the Hufflepuff introduced.

"I know," Lily replied. "We're in the same year. We repotted mandrakes together, remember?" Lily didn't particularly care about the answer. She was more interested in why they were going out of their way to introduce themselves to her, but she let it be.

"Oh right," Cynthia agreed with a laugh. "Anyway, this is my sister Mandy," she said with a nod to the Ravencalw on her right.

"Lily," Lily introduced simply, for lack of something better to say.

"We know," Mandy replied. Alright, well this was all very weird, but if you don't mind, I have an essay to get back to, she said – internally. She didn't say anything with her mouth, but instead picked back up her quill.

"We had something we wanted to ask you," Cynthia said quickly. Oh. Lily suddenly understood their true purpose.

"Mhm?" she prompted, thoroughly uninterested.

The girls looked at each other, seemingly exchanging an entire conversation with their eyes. At long last, Mandy gave in: "Are you dating James Potter?"

"Nope," Lily replied easily, having predicted precisely what they were going to ask her. "We're just good friends."

The two sisters looked extremely disappointed and Lily couldn't help but wonder why her answer would impact them at all. Perhaps they too were shy and unpopular and Lily's supposed relationship success had been giving them hope? She was almost inclined to ask (though, admittedly, she was unlikely to actually follow through), when a voice interrupted: "Well that certainly clears things up."

Lily recognized the voice in its own accord but turned to see the face she knew would accompany it. "Candice," she said awkwardly by way of greeting.

"Hello Lily," she responded effortlessly. Lily felt simultaneously anxious and comforted. She had been trying her very best (and frequently succeeding) to not think about Candice since her abrupt departure from their lives at the end of last year. Of course, Lily did still catch the occasional glance of her – particularly at big meals – but since they were in different years and houses, avoiding her was hardly a difficult feat. That was, of course, until Lily clearly failed to notice that the woman in question was sitting right behind her at an adjacent table. "Fancy seeing you here," Candice said pleasantly.

"Er," Lily squeaked. She felt obliged to say something, but she was struggling to think of the right thing. "I've been known to frequent the library from time to time." That wasn't it.

"I remember," Candice replied, shifting her chair to better face Lily. She had a sudden flashback of their last mid-day Library conversation. "You're sure you and James aren't together?"

Lily cleared her throat uncomfortably. She was keenly aware of the excited expressions the two Baker siblings were wearing in her periphery. "I'm, uh," she coughed again. "I'm pretty sure."

"You two have seemed pretty cozy lately, that's all." If Candice was at all dismayed to be inquiring about the dating habits of her recent ex-boyfriend, she didn't show it. Lily, on the other hand, felt like she was in the hot seat for a sensationalist piece on the nightly news. If the camera were to do a close-up, they could probably see the sweat comically drip off her flushed cheeks – which was ridiculous because, of course, Lily hadn't actually done anything. Right? She idly wished she had a drink of water she could reach for as a distraction.

"I don't know about that..." Lily objected perfunctorily.

"Oh? Were you not there last night?"

"What about last night?" Lily asked, panicked. She half-expected Candice to tell her she had somehow eavesdropped on her girls' night.

Candice chuckled at her obvious confusion and anxiety. "At dinner?" she prompted. Lily was genuinely drawing a blank. "Dumbledore reversed the points you were docked for locking all of the classrooms on Friday," Candice reminded her.

"Oh. And?" The professors had been completely right to blame the Marauders (including Lily) for this, but they did in fact lack any semblance of evidence.

"And," Candice said with a strangely-affectionate roll of her eyes, "you and James jumped to your feet and cheered in excitement. Then you looked at each other and James picked you up as you both continued to scream."

Lily nodded her head slowly, realizing that this was, indeed, an incriminating vignette. She and James had decided – mutually and without actually using words – that they could have a good deal of fun by getting really into the house cup for the Marauders' last year – not to the point of actually changing their behaviour to try and earn points, of course, but certainly to the point of cheering and protesting the volatile scoreboard at every turn, no matter how small the values in question were (and she wasn't even sure which she enjoyed more out of the cheering or the protesting). They were entirely guilty of the celebratory display of which they stood accused.

"It's okay if you're dating, Lily," Candice continued, seeing that Lily wasn't going to speak. "You don't have to lie for my sake."

"I'm not lying," Lily assured. "For anyone's sake. We're just not dating."

"Have you thought about it?"

"I–" What?

"Perhaps not," Candice answered for herself with another laugh. "Maybe you should? I wouldn't be surprised if it was part of why we broke up."

"I. What?" Her mind was clearly broken.

"Oh, not like that," she replied quickly. "I just mean... seeing how he is with you now, I..." Candice trailed off, clearly in her own thoughts. "Plus that might help explain his complete condemnation of someone pursuing their lifelong career aspirations," she added under her breath. It felt to Lily like she was getting a glimpse of what Candice might look like when she was alone, without all her social graces. But it quickly left. "Anyway, just think on it, Lily," she said with an encouraging smile. "We're graduating soon." With that, Candice picked up her book bag and made her way out of the library.

More than anything, Lily was stuck on one single thought: what a class act. Of course, her mind was also racing about Candice's read on her relationship with James. But then she remembered that Candice had also unwaveringly believed that Lily and Sirius were going to be an item as well. She sighed. "Don't get any ideas," she told the two sisters who had eagerly watched the entire conversation.

But then, even after that very odd and interesting conversation, Lily had simply popped back into 'normal' mode. She finished her Transfiguration paper and made it to supper on time. That night, when she was alone with the girls, she had silently wondered if she should share the story of her unusual conversation with Candice – but Mary, for a change, was talking excitedly about her real relationship with Malik, and Lily was more than happy to let her enjoy the spotlight. Still, she took a moment to stare at each of her friends in turn: Mary, who sat perched picturesquely on top of her trunk, looking happier than Lily could ever recall seeing her; Marlene, who looked like she had leapt off the pages of a trendy magazine, given that she had recently chopped off all of her hair and was sporting a gorgeous turquoise bandana; and Alice, who was the most poised and professional prefect Lily had ever seen, yet who was modest enough to keep her prefect badge in her bedside table ninety-five per cent of the time.

Come Monday, Lily had forgotten all about her encounter with Candice and thoroughly enjoyed her double potions class. Tuesday saw her playing cards with the Marauders in their dorm. On Wednesday, they had another impromptu night class where they worked on stunning spells. It was, after all, a normal week.

But all this normalcy wouldn't have been memorable or noteworthy were it not for what happened on Thursday.

Thursday afternoon found Lily where she always was: auditing seventh-year Muggle Studies. Just as the professor was struggling to explain the intricacies of muggle banks, they were interrupted by the appearance of Professor McGonagall. Lily kept her eyes glued to the front of the room, acutely aware that she was not, in fact, supposed to be in this class. "Sorry for the interruption," she heard her professor's voice say. "But I need to borrow Miss Evans." Lily froze, feeling several pairs of eyes on her. She expended great effort in attempting to rise to her feet like a normal human being and was very proud that she managed to make her way over to the entrance of the classroom without tripping. She could feel her heart beating rapidly as she approached her professor. It can't be that much of a transgression to attend an extra class, can it? "Come with me, dear," McGonagall said softly as the two of them made their way into the hallway.

"Did I do something?" Lily blurted out without thinking. She realized that made her sound terribly guilty, but she also couldn't handle the suspense any longer.

Her professor paused and gave her a wry smile. "Knowing how much time you spend with Potter and Black, certainly," she agreed. "But that's not what this is about."

Lily was about to prompt her to explain, but another voice beat her to it. "I take grave offense to that, professor."

"I don't recall inviting you to this hallway, Mr. Black."

"Well, not with your words, but I thought I might be of some assistance."

"Oh? And your assistance would be with what, exactly?"

Sirius shrugged somewhat flippantly. "That's for you to decide, professor." Lily felt thoroughly perplexed.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Alright, Mr. Black," she acquiesced. "You have some more experience in this department anyhow. Would you be so kind as to escort Miss Evans to the Headmaster's Office?" The Headmaster's Office? "The password is 'lollipop.'"

Lily's head was whirring as Sirius led her gently down the hallway. She could barely keep track of the path he was taking. What on earth had she done to necessitate seeing Professor Dumbledore? "Do you think this is something bad?" she asked Sirius with a dry throat after a moment.

Another shrug. "Who's to say?" he answered vaguely. "I go to Dumbledore's office all the time and I seem to have turned out alright." Lily couldn't help but think that Sirius' usual spirits were somewhat absent – but perhaps she was overthinking things.

They passed a few more minutes in silence. Then Lily felt compelled to say something, aware of how awkward they were being. "Why did you come with me?"

"You don't like the company?" he joked.

"I'm undecided."

"You're vicious," he accused, joking in stride.

"But, seriously?"

"I just had a sense," he replied reluctantly.

Lily was just debating whether or not she would interrogate him further when he announced that they had arrived. She nearly leapt out of her skin when the gargoyle she had passed thousands of times kindly stepped to the side; in retrospect, she couldn't help but wonder if it was a slight warning sign that Sirius wasn't even remotely amused by her shock.

After a few extremely uncomfortable pleasantries, the Headmaster suggested she take a seat – which was about the point at which Lily's uncertainty settled into unbearable dread. The words that followed were simultaneously expected and unexpected, surreal and yet forever seared into her memory: "I have some news to share with you about your mother."

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

Late March...

'Normal' grieving lasts approximately two months. After this point, the acute entity of grief – the gnawing, viscerally painful, world-destroying aspects of grief – naturally resolve. If one continues to be unable to live his or her life after two months, they are now suffering from 'complex grief' – a much rarer entity. Lily knew all this because a childhood friend of her mother had unhelpfully decided that Iris' funeral would be the perfect time to educate her about the intricacies of grief.

She was right, of course. If Lily ever saw Judy-who-went-to-school-with-Iris-and-is-now-a-therapist again, she would let her know. In the immediate wake of her mother's passing, everything had felt so dramatic. So final. And it was, naturally – for her mother. But Lily had felt as though she would never be able to move past it. And every step thereafter had felt herculean, like she might not survive. She truly questioned whether or not she'd be able to go back to school or face her friends. The idea of heading to the library to work on a Transfiguration essay was unthinkable. Having a conversation with her friends where she didn't cry seemed similarly unthinkable. And yet, step by step, Lily had simply gotten on with things... up until the two-month mark, when Lily suddenly realized she had 'gotten on' with everything and was back to her usual schedule. She supposed it was all very British of her. But, then again, she reckoned there were also fifteen-year-olds in every country around the world who had recently lost their mums and she somehow doubted they were all sitting around wallowing in their misery.

Of course, moving past the acute grief stage and getting on with life didn't preclude the possibility – or, dare she say, inevitability –said life would always and irreparably be a little bit worse.

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

That day...

Lily's feet touched down on the ground with a decisive crunch. In a strange turn of events, she had actually landed on her feet and hadn't immediately cascaded to the ground. Turning around, her eyes frantically searched for, and then locked, on Sirius'. Her breath started shaking. Fuck it. She sat down on the ground.

Shortly after Lily had regained (some) of her composure, her headmaster had provided her with a plan. Her belongings were somehow already packed and in his office. He had set up a portkey to bring her to the vicinity of her home. Her family knew she was coming. Sirius was permitted to accompany her. That was that. She picked up a seemingly-innocent tin of muggle biscuits and away she went.

Now, in the same meadow where she had laid down and stargazed just half a year ago, Lily seemed to exist outside of time. Sirius came and joined her on the ground, but it could have been seconds or hours after she had collapsed. She felt a hundred years old. She also felt five. Although her eyes were closed, she was treated to a view so crisp, it had to be happening in real time: Lily and her mother were walking through the meadow, collecting leaves that had changed colour to bring to school for show-and-tell. Lily promised complete discretion; Iris revealed a pair of clippers and effortlessly brought down an entire branch full of stunning red leaves. They both agreed they had fortuitously discovered it already on the ground. Lily plucked a single leaf and wedged it in her hair, shouting 'we match!'

"Lily." She opened her eyes. It was winter. She was sitting in the snow. Sirius was looking at her like a concerned parent. Her mother was dead.

"I can't go in there, Sirius," she told him, stumbling her way through the words in between choppy breathing. He simply looked at her, his face unreadable. "I can't go into my house knowing that my mum won't–" she cut herself off abruptly, the truth being literally unspeakable. Ever be there again, she finished internally.

"Okay," Sirius said softly. "We can sit here a while." He scooted close to Lily on the ground until he could wrap an arm – and his cloak – around her. Either of them could have asked the obvious question: what will change by sitting on the cold January ground? But they remained silent.

Something about having the lower half of her body grow increasingly cold and wet did actually serve as a decent distraction. It was almost as if her physical numbness was slowly manifesting itself as emotional numbness as well. Or maybe there was simply a limit on the physical tolls one could endure in the name of existentialism.

"Sirius," Lily said after a time. (How much time? She had no idea.) Her throat was dry and her voice sounded strange and distant.

"Yes?"

What was she to say? What was called for in a situation like this? What words were there that could possibly convey the depths of her anguish?

There was a brief pause.

"I'm cold."

"Okay," came his reply.

"I think maybe I should go to the house where it's warm."

"Okay," he repeated. He stood up and offered her a hand. She accepted.

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

That week...

Lily had regressed. Or at least that's what a psychiatrist would say if they were observing the current situation. Or at least that's what she imagined a psychiatrist would be inclined to say. Lily wasn't a psychiatrist, after all – and she supposed she could confidently assert that she would never be one.

Lily didn't feel old enough to never be anything. Except motherless, of course.

The reason a hypothetical psychiatrist would conceivably declare that Lily had regressed is that said psychiatrist would find her lying on her childhood bed, cuddling her father, with her head tucked into his neck, while he stroked her hair. The pair of them had assumed this position for some time and were taking turns sharing stories of Lily's mother. Petunia, meanwhile, was aggressively combing through her mother's closet and personal belongings; every time she walked past Lily's doorway, she took care to tut in disapproval at their lack of productivity. The very first object she had produced for Lily's consideration (a drawing of an Iris that Lily had made when she was nine or ten) had sent Eric and Lily spiralling for hours.

They were currently reminiscing about a time Lily was sent home from school with a letter from her teacher. A boy in Lily's class had stolen her pencil and she responded in turn by calling him out on it in front of his friends. Obviously, Lily had been labeled disruptive and her mother was tasked with schooling her appropriately. When Lily handed her mum the letter – the first and only letter she was ever sent home with from school – she had been nearly trembling. Iris didn't say a word, but proceeded to purse her lips and head upstairs. After what felt like an eternity, Lily had crept upstairs, desperate to know if her mother was crying, fuming, fighting with her father, or something else. Much to her surprise, Lily heard her mother talking to her teacher over the phone – or perhaps berating her teacher would be more accurate. Iris, a teacher herself, had been outraged that a female student would have been disciplined simply for having self-respect.

Lily and Eric were pulled out of their daydreams by the sound of floorboards creaking. "If you two are quite finished," Petunia said with a heavy sigh as she dropped a bin onto the foot of Lily's bed. "These clothes don't fit me. If you don't want them, I'll donate them."

Lily sat up tepidly, upset at having been pulled from her reminiscing session. Gingerly, she used her fingers to push through a few different articles of clothing. Each sweater contained dozens of memories. One of them was the very sweater her mother had been wearing the last time they saw one another. Lily felt bile rise into her throat and she quickly closed her eyes. "Tuney," she said softly. "I'd really rather not look at these right now."

"Then I'll donate them," her sister repeated.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Lily muttered under her breath. "Why can't we just keep them for a while?"

"I'm not just going to store them forever," Petunia snarled.

"I'm not suggesting that and you know it," Lily accused. "I can look at them over the summer or something."

"That's not for months."

"What is the rush?" Lily asked in exasperation. She had no idea how Petunia was able to maintain her cool disinterest, but Lily certainly didn't have it in her.

"Well there wouldn't be any rush at all, except that someone is only here for a single week." Lily watched Petunia turn and leave. She took a slow exhale and spared a glance for her father – he was transfixed, staring at the exact same sweater to which Lily had succumbed. Unfortunately, she realized that managing her sister would be in her own hands. She gave her dad's hand a soft squeeze, then walked begrudgingly into her parents' room.

Petunia seemed to have finished with sweaters and had her sights set on a stack of folders Iris had kept in her nightstand. Lily sat delicately on her parents' bed and waited to be acknowledged, but no acknowledgement was forthcoming. Finally, she lost her patience and sighed. "Have I done something to upset you?" Lily asked, more forcefully than she should have.

"What would make you think that?" Her eyes didn't so much as glance in Lily's direction.

"I don't know... your words? Actions? General demeanour?"

A small groan escaped Petunia's lips, but she quickly bit it back. "I'm just trying to do the responsible thing here. God knows one of us has to."

"Am I supposed to feel bad for spending time with dad?"

"Spending time with him is one way to put it. Riling him up is another."

"We like talking about mum. Don't try and make me feel bad about that."

"Sure," she snapped. "He likes it now. But you're about to gallivant off to Scotland and I'll have to pick up the pieces."

Lily felt like yanking her hair out of her head. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize that when people die we're supposed to pretend they never existed." She was literally hopping with anger by the end of her sentence which, she supposed, probably made her appear less than composed.

There was a beat of silence. Lily was flooded with instant regret, but frantically tried to tell herself her comment was justified. "Oh, not the moment they die," Petunia replied casually, as if Lily had just suggested something entirely reasonable. "Dad and I reminisced for days. Then you decided to grace us with your presence."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Lily exclaimed. "Are you mad that it took me time to get here or peeved that I had the nerve to come at all?"

Petunia seemingly didn't have an answer.

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

February...

Lily stared up numbly at the overhead surface of her four-poster. When she had first come back to school, she had wiped all of the old carvings that she had amassed over the years. Put simply, life had felt too grim – and Lily had felt too different, not to mention old – to be staring at reminders of her previous carefree days.

But then, of course, the profound emptiness of it all had quickly made her feel even more depressed than she already was. Sometime last week, she had composed a haiku (because, yes, haikus are technically poetry, and Lily was still classy and sophisticated in her mourning). It read:

Reflections on grief... by Lily J. Evans

Life is meaningless

We're all just walking corpses

Everything is trash

She supposed the fact that she was still capable of humour (or, relying on it as a mature coping mechanism) was a positive sign for her mental status. Then again, her first draft of the haiku was far darker – to the point that her roommates had threatened to send her to the hospital wing. So, here they were.

Lily was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of the door to her room opening. She turned her head ten or fifteen degrees and recognized, much to her surprise, James' figure. As she turned fully onto her side, she briefly wondered how he had made it up the staircase, but was too fatigued to ask. "Hey there," James said softly as he sat gently on Alice's bed.

"Hey," she responded. Her throat was dry and she was barely audible.

"I'm all for sleeping in," James said, dropping his voice in turn. "But I thought this was getting a bit excessive." Lily wasn't sure about the exact time, but suspected it was the middle of the afternoon.

"I'm not sleeping," she pointed out. Her eyes were locked on James' face. Given the amount of time Lily had spent studying the dull and ever unchanging landscape of the girls' dormitory, it felt something like staring at a siren in the middle of the sea.

"Well, I can see that now," he replied. Lily hadn't been asleep since half past five in the morning. She considered pointing this out, but she rather suspected James could read that on her face. "Any chance you feel like getting out of bed?" he suggested. Lily continued to stare at his eyes. She could practically see the hope radiating out of them but it seemed to bounce right off her like a mirror.

"I'm sorry," Lily whispered, imploring him to understand.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he crooned. "If you can't get out of bed, I'll just come join you, yeah?" Lily processed this comment at a snail's pace; by the time she fully registered what he was saying, he had walked around to the other side of her bed and lay down with her.

James Potter is currently in your bed, a voice said in her head. It was perfunctory; a recognition that this was a once-unimaginable event. She didn't even bother replying to it and pointing out the obvious. James was muttering about how comfortable her mattress was compared to his and how he'd have to stage an elaborate heist in order to trade the two. It was mindless fluff intended to get Lily to break a smile. She almost thought about just pretending – Merlin only knew it would be easier – but she didn't have the energy.

"Do you at least want to roll over?" James asked more softly. He was evidently tired of trying to cheer up her back. Lily did want to. And yet, she also didn't. Her entire body felt heavy and stuck. She made a soft noise to show she wasn't completely ignoring him. James reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear, causing Lily to transiently applaud herself for having washed it semi-recently. That same hand wandered down to her hip with just enough pressure to constitute an invitation to roll over. She gave in ever so slightly, causing James' hand to make contact with Lily's abdomen. A jolt of embarrassment ran through her as she instantly sucked in her stomach and flipped onto her back. James smiled brightly, seemingly having missed her awkwardness. "There's my Pigeon," he said happily. "We've all missed your beautiful face lately."

Lily smiled back faintly. But internally, all she was thinking was: that was such a normal reaction. James pulled her in until her head effortlessly found the space below his shoulder like two puzzle pieces clicking together. "Your middle name starts with a 'J'," James remarked. Lily was marginally amused that her middle initial would be the most noteworthy part of her haiku.

"As if I still care about that," she said simply. "My middle name is—"

"Shhh," James interrupted quickly.

"You don't want to know?"

"Not like this. I'm supposed to beat it out of you. Or cleverly deduce it," he insisted. "Finding out this way would just be wrong. I would never take advantage of you in this state."

"Okay," Lily agreed, not really paying him much mind. These days, she felt as though she had few bona fide opinions of any sort. Instead, she felt the all-too-familiar sensation of being physically present yet simultaneously absent. Still, that jolt of embarrassment had left her feeling slightly more human. It turns out some things are stronger than grief after all, she thought wryly. And for a teenage girl, those things are apparently low self-esteem and body image.

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

Early March...

"Do you want a pumpkin pasty, Lils?"

"Hmm?"

"I asked if you wanted a pumpkin pasty," Mary repeated.

"Oh. No thanks," she answered numbly.

"You sure?" Mary questioned. Lily nodded her head. "Did you eat breakfast this morning?"

Lily sighed slightly, though she felt the corners of her mouth turn upward. Not knowing what else to do, many of the girls had started checking-in with Lily regarding her eating and sleeping habits – though the truth of the matter was that both were perfectly normal. In a way, Lily wished she could have taken to a more dramatic, literary style of mourning where she stopped eating and nearly wasted away, causing generalized concern for her wellbeing. Unfortunately for all after a good tale, Lily was simply continuing her life – though with emotions that occasionally ran away on her. "Eggs and toast," Lily assured her friend.

The girls turned the corner and entered their Transfiguration class, though Lily's pace of walking slowed somewhat as she took in her surroundings. Perched on Professor McGonagall's desk was a delicate orchid. Her blackboard read, "Floral Transfiguration: Beyond Orchideous," in her usual pristine cursive.

Lily stopped walking completely. There wasn't an iris, lily, or petunia in sight – but the orchid was already causing her heart to twist in uncomfortable ways.

Alice met her eyes and Lily could tell that she was connecting the dots. She blinked a few times, refusing to let any tears even think about forming, and gave her head a quick shake. "I'm out," she told the girls simply. She waved goodbye and marched straight out of class.

If there was one thing that was nice about her grievous and unspeakably tragic loss, it was that she now realized no one could truly make her do anything she didn't want to do.

As Lily approached the common room, it donned on her that she really had nothing with which to fill the two hours she had just gained. She thought about taking a nap, but she was really getting tired of looking depressed. She thought about brewing a potion, but that felt like it would mostly be for show. Just when she was thinking about reading her book (but then again, hadn't her mum loved Jane Austin?), she stepped through the portrait hole and saw Sirius.

"Evans," he said, moderately surprised. "Are you skipping class?"

"Yup." She went and sat on the couch beside him. "Are you?"

"Of course."

"Well aren't we a fine bunch."

"I certainly think so." Lily scarcely had time to process that, prior to her arrival, Sirius had simply been holding a mirror and staring at himself. He put it down on the coffee table and Lily couldn't help but wonder if she had just imagined that activity. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm okay." Of course, she'd been saying she was okay for weeks. But she was feeling increasingly okay.

Sirius wrapped an arm around her and the pair stared blankly at the wall for a few minutes. "I hear your dad's moving."

Lily groaned internally. "So they tell me."

"Where to?"

"Oh, I don't know. A flat somewhere, I think."

"I'm sorry."

Lily shrugged. It was a bold attempt to appear nonchalant – which was itself a bold attempt not to cry. "It's not like going back to my house was going to be pleasant either."

"I suppose not," he conceded. "Still, if living in a house with Petunia was bad, I'm sure a flat will be unbearable."

Lily let out a very long, steadying breath. Sirius was trying to cheer her up. He had even delivered that line with his patented teasing tone of voice. Little did he know he had struck a nerve. "I'm not invited," she told him, her words barely audible.

There was a decidedly pregnant pause as Sirius processed the gravity of what she was saying. "They might change their minds," he replied at last.

"Yeah," she agreed. "They might." It didn't mean she didn't have her doubts. And, of course, she had already had doubts about spending the summer with them before Christmas in any event.

Sirius sighed heavily. "I'm trying to cheer you up, Evans," he said accusatorily. "You're not making it easy."

"Believe it or not, I've been trying to feel less horrible lately too. It's not easy."

Another pause. "Are you cold?" he asked out of the blue.

Lily shook her head. "I'm okay." Sirius muttered that he was convinced of the opposite and performed some quick spellwork. Then he draped a large blanket over the two of them. "Oh Sirius," she said shaking her head. "If blankets and pumpkin pasties were going to take away the grief, I would have been fixed long ago."

"Well, there is one more trick we have up our sleeve, you know." Lily had only mild interest, but made a sound to invite him to share his answer. "Has it been enough time for me to start bothering you to ask out Prongs yet?"

Lily shared an authentic – though somewhat dark – laugh. "Nope."

"Why not?" Sirius whined. "I thought you said you were trying to cheer up. I'm sure James could find a few ways to help you." Lily did find it simultaneously amusing and endearing that, at this juncture, Sirius seemed to want the two of them to date more than anyone in the world – including themselves.

"I said I wanted to feel less horrible," she conceded. "I didn't say I was ready to be happy."

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

That other day...

"Are you okay?"

Lily tilted her head up and locked eyes with James. His hands were planted firmly on both of her shoulders. Her hands and feet were tingling and she actually felt as though, were it not for his hands on her shoulders, she might just float away.

"Right, stupid question."

"No shit, mate."

"What's a better question, then?"

"What do we do now?"

"Yup, that's a better one."

A pause.

"Well, we should probably go."

Lily felt the hands on her shoulder provide some forward pressure, but she resisted.

"Lily." His voice was soft – so soft that it was rivalled by the passing wind. "I don't think anything good is going to come from staying here."

"But my mum," she whispered simply. It was a useless thing to say. What about her mum? Would James possibly know what she meant? Did she even know what she meant?

"I know," James murmured, almost as if he had heard her inner thoughts. "But Pidge, you've already said goodbye to your mum. In every way that counts. What good is going to come from staying here?"

He was right, of course. James was often right. All the same, Lily couldn't form any words. What she could form, however, were tears.

James leaned in wiped a tear away with his thumb. He pressed his forehead against hers, causing – forcing – her to look up.

"I'm not going to drag you. You have to be okay with leaving." Lily blinked a few times and stared at James' eyes. His glasses had slipped down lower on his nose and they were meeting each other eye to eye. He was speaking so softly, Lily was sure the others couldn't hear him. It was as if the two of them were in their own private world.

She wanted to say yes. She couldn't say yes. Perhaps more accurately, she didn't want to have to say yes. She settled for a nod.

They were only an inch apart but James pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms around her. She felt his breath on her ear. Then he pulled back, turned, and whisked her away.

Several minutes passed. Or perhaps it was several seconds. She wasn't entirely sure. At some point someone put her coat over her shoulders.

"Where are we going?" she heard Peter ask.

"It's not entirely clear," Remus answered casually.

"We're going with the flow," James informed them. It sounded like they were just romping around the castle on a perfectly random Tuesday night. Lily couldn't help but suspect that tone was forced.

"Yes, but where is the flow taking us today?" she heard Sirius question.

"Not here," Lily answered matter-of-factly. It didn't even sound like her, really. She had the distinct sense that she was listening from one of the boys' bodies. "And not my home. And not the graveyard. And definitely not the castle." It occurred to Lily as she spoke that her world really was quite small.

Sirius was not to be deterred, which, if she was being honest, was most vexing. It was a day of unimaginable grief and part of Lily wanted the others to be forced into falling deep into her void of despair.

"You're thinking too narrowly, Evans." Even her last name stung. It was her father's, of course. But her mother had worn it for a time. And now that time was over. "We're a bunch of fine-looking – mostly," he added, looking in Remus and Peter's direction, "teenagers. The world is our oyster."

"So where to?" Peter asked, ignoring his jibe.

"A party."

Remus snorted. "Did all our invitations get lost in the mail?"

"Give me a few minutes, yeah mate? We'll find something."

What followed was an embarrassing display of accosting strangers in order to ask them for invitations to parties that didn't exist – but Lily felt so unusually un-present that she didn't even blush or cringe. Eventually, they realized they would have to change tactics. Sirius asked Lily to name some 'muggle drugs,' and she quietly spat out the slang words she had learned for marijuana when she was a child. Did they even still call it any of this? she wondered idly, feeling very old. That was a lifetime ago. Literally.

A few more strangers were harassed who had a comically large range in reactions – from gasping in horror to asking them to come back if they found any. Lily realized she actually knew the next muggle they ran into. Unfortunately, that realization came embarrassingly late in the interaction.

"Lily?" the boy asked for about the third time. "That is you, right?"

"So they say," Lily acknowledged ambiguously. She didn't exactly feel like Lily right now. She stared at the mildly familiar face and tried to search her memory with little success.

"You remember me, right?" Shit.

"Of course," she lied. "Dennis," she added, blurting it out as soon as the name popped into her head. The pause was just long enough to cause Sirius to snort, but hopefully short enough to save her from looking like a complete arse.

"Right," he said with a doubtful smile. "You grew up."

For whatever reason, the first thought that popped into Lily's head was: you didn't. Lily always used to associate being an adult with running into people you knew when you were younger. Her parents were always tossing back storied about 'you'll never guess who I ran into at the grocery store,' and 'remember little Jenny? Sue's daughter?' What proceeded were descriptions of how much they had changed (or hadn't), whether the years, in their infinite wisdom, had been kind. Petunia, the notorious busy body that she had always been, had participated in similar games ever since she was a small child. But Lily, who perhaps had more cause than any of her family members, had never had the experience of running into a childhood acquaintance and feeling surprised at their appearance. It struck her that exclusively socializing with boys who were three years older than her might have permanently destroyed the set-point for her internal age compass.

"Imagine that," Lily said simply. She hoped her delivery helped emphasize the stupidity of his observation. She suspected it did, because there were a few seconds of silence that elapsed while Dennis' smile slid from his face.

"Who are you hanging out with these days?" he asked, gesturing to the Marauders.

"Oh, they go to school with me." It occurred to her that she was being curt. She tried to will herself to care.

"Aren't you going to tell him what school that is?" Sirius teased.

"Don't be obtuse."

"Fine. Aren't you going to introduce us?" You're still being obtuse. She considered simply saying 'no' so as to avoid having saying 'Sirius' and 'Remus' out loud, but had a better idea.

"I'd love to, Peter." He immediately scowled. "This is James," Lily said, pointing to Peter, "John," Remus, "and Paul," James.

"Are those their real names?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't they be?"

"I don't know. They all look mad or something." Dennis avoided Lily's gaze uncomfortably and brought a hand up to ruffle his hair. It was exactly what James would have done in the same situation – but somehow not nearly as charming.

"That's just how they look," Lily replied defensively. "They also approach strangers asking for drugs. I never said they were the sanest bunch."

"Right," Dennis said noncommittally. "What's with the urgent need for Mary Jane anyway?" he asked with a chuckle. She could practically see the confusion trickling from one Marauder to the next. "You all look like you're coming from a wedding, or—"

"A funeral," Lily supplied truthfully. "Peter's grandma." The best lies are based in truth.

"What?" The real Peter asked in a knee-jerk sort of fashion.

"You can't be too surprised, James," Lily reminded gently. "We just buried her."

"I..." Peter floundered. "I know. I just didn't think we were going to talk about that anymore. Too depressing and all."

"Well yes, but the man asked." Is he really a man?

"Hence the need to, uh, meet... Mary Jane?" Sirius questioned feebly.

Dennis appraised this curious bunch of teenagers with obvious amusement. "Sorry to hear, mate," he told Sirius. "But sure, I can introduce you," he informed them with the air of someone who was very pleased with himself indeed. "Just so happens I'm heading to party."

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

April...

Lily lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room. Her head was in James' lap, who was also on the ground, but sitting, reclining against a sofa behind him. He was slowly running his fingers through her hair. The other Marauders and fourth year girls were perched on different items of furniture surrounding the fireplace. Lily couldn't help but imagine it all looked very pretty from the outside – like they had all been given marks for a stage play.

But, of course, Lily's life was not a play. It was a relentless series of events – good and bad – that she had to experience in real time.

The reason all of them had the means to arrange themselves in this fashion was that they were the only Gryffindors who had elected to stay at the castle over Easter. Lily, naturally, was hiding from her sister, from whom she was newly estranged. The others had formed and impromptu suicide prevention pact revolving solely around one individual. Or, at least, that was Lily's assessment – but it wasn't much of a stretch. When the girls had told Lily that they would be staying with her for the weekend, she had sardonically responded 'I'm not going to kill myself,' to which Alice had gasped and instantly huffed 'we don't know that.' She could have sworn that they had removed any sharp objects in and around the dorm they could find, which was adorable in light of the fact that she continued to have possession of her wand.

Another reason she and James were positioned the way they were is that they may or may not (read: definitely) have consumed a mind-altering substance with Sirius half an hour prior. She had complained that the suicide watch was both morose and dreadfully boring and, well... one thing had led to another. Lily couldn't quite tell if her mind had slowed to the pace of snail or accelerated three-fold, but she was certain that at least one of those options was true.

"Lily, what do you think?" Marlene asked.

"Hmm?"

"Which one of us is right?"

Shit. Lily hadn't followed their conversation at all. "The truth lies somewhere in the middle," she murmured. "Like it often does." She adhered her eyes to the ceiling despite its complete dearth of interesting features. Lily had no idea if she had said something believable or not, but for some reason she was strangely terrified of the girls finding out she was in an altered state.

"Well that's no fun," Marlene complained. "You're supposed to pick a side."

Lily shrugged. "Sorry," she answered, like she wasn't particularly sorry at all. Which was true, considering how unspeakably lost she was in the conversation.

"You okay, Lils?" she heard Mary ask. A flair of panic told her that Mary might be on to her. Then again, she was accustomed to her roommates asking if she was okay on the hour.

Perfect, Lily almost answered, then stopped. Too strong. Then she thought about sharing an of course, but that also seemed as though she might be overselling things. Frantically, it dawned on her that she might be remaining silent for far too long.

"She's great," Remus answered casually. "You guys need to stop checking in on her so much. She's stronger than she looks." He said it with an air of truth that warmed Lily's heart. But it was also touching because Remus had knowledge of their misadventures – in fact, he had considered partaking in them.

Much to her delight, Remus proceeded to convince all but Lily, James, and Sirius to head to bed. She wasn't quite sure how he managed to accomplish this so seamlessly – although, if she were to speculate, it likely involved a delicate combination of meaningful glances, gestures, and outright pleading. In any event, she couldn't have been more grateful.

Once the rest of their party had broken away, Lily let out a massive sigh of relief. Somehow, the sigh transformed almost of its own accord into a long and uncontrollable giggle. It took Lily a beat to realize that it was actually James' giggle, and that her mouth had simply followed suit.

"You guys are feeling this too, right?" Lily murmured. The others simply laughed in response. She couldn't blame them. It was pretty funny. Though what exactly was funny, she couldn't put her finger on.

"So," Sirius boasted, after their giggles had somewhat settled. "A good idea?" He was very proud of himself.

"Was it your idea?" Lily asked gently. "That's not quite how I remember things."

"Sure it was," he replied easily. Lily laughed again. She was sure if she could watch herself from outside her body she wouldn't be impressed. But on the other hand, Lily hadn't really laughed in months. Now that she had started, it was infectious.

The conversation drifted between a range of inane and inconsequential topics that Lily followed with variable success. She wasn't sure of much except that they had been talking for at least a few years.

And so Lily found herself recounting the story of the first money she made, curtesy of a lemonade stand. "I was so proud," she said with a giggle. "I showed all my money to my mum and demanded she take me to the bank..."

Everyone paused. Lily had scarcely spoken a word of her mum since January. Compared to all the giggles of the preceding hours, the silence that followed felt cold and unnatural.

"How," Sirius tentatively broached. "How are you doing with all that, Evans?"

Lily let out a sarcastic laugh along with a big exhale. Where to even begin? In the light of day, she might have said something noncommittal and excused herself promptly. But something about tonight... maybe it was how close she felt with Sirius and James, maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the odd privacy in the lounge. Maybe it's the drugs. But, then again, maybe it's just time. "I'd love to say I'm doing well," she answered in a moment. "But what on earth do I know?"

"What's it like?" The gentle question came from James. It was a stupid question, and one she had every right to be upset about. But, just for a second, Lily paused and really looked at James – a boy who was only a few years older than her, and still very young. A boy who was destined to lose his own mother.

"Well, I wouldn't recommend it," Lily joked lamely. For once, no one laughed. "It's... strange," she struggled. "Surreal." She could tell that the boys were hanging on her every word. She let out a heavy breath and forced herself to continue, however clunkily. "The first part is right agony. Rubbish. Everything is shit. And it also feels impossible. Even though I've spent my whole life knowing and worrying that my mum would die, somehow when my biggest fear comes true it's just... of course it couldn't happen to me. I'm too special. I'm too important... Too self-obsessed obviously.

"But on the other hand, everyone knows the first part's terrible. You can lie in bed all day. People dote on you. The real work comes later. How do you go about finding a way to make sense of your life when one of the cornerstones is suddenly missing? How do you go about studying, gossiping, snacking... how does any of that ever seem appropriate?

"So you try, you stumble through scene to scene like a shit actor who was only given the cues and script a minute before the production started. And everything makes you sad. Everything. Flowers make me cry. Pancakes make me cry. A tiny trinket my mum gave me years ago makes me cry. Something pretty she would have liked but never encountered in her entire life makes me cry. And you cry so much you barely know how to cry anymore. Is it supposed to be loud? Gentle? Kicking? Which kind of crying is the best tribute to my mum? Which one honours her memory the most?

"Then one day, you don't cry. Just for a second, you see something that would have made you cry weeks ago, and you forget to cry. And then you're really done for. Guilt, shame, misery. And it's not just crying. You're supposed to feel terrible all day every day because if you really loved your mum, how could you ever not feel terrible? So then the few seconds when you're accidentally happy are pure agony. And heaven forbid, if you ever feel normal – if you ever actually feel truly adjusted to this new world – that's when all the real self-loathing starts.

"And of course in the meantime, everyone else has decided – everyone else who still has their parents, I should add – they've all banded together at some point and decided that you've been sad long enough. I'm not really sure when that happened or what the process was – some kind of vote? Democratic argument? Anyways, overnight, people change and start trying to just 'cheer' you up. So you either tell them to shove it and feel like shit, or you pretend to be happy, and feel like shit."

Lily took a few breaths, during which time neither boy said anything. "Did I mention in there that it's shit?" she half-joked.

"I think it came up a few times," Sirius agreed.

"Pidg, I'm so sorry," James said with more emotion than Lily thought she'd ever seen on his face. In fact, he was looking at her rather in the way he might look at an injured puppy. That much has to be the drugs.

"Oh, you get real tired of people saying 'sorry' too," Lily continued. James looked horrified. "Not you," she sighed. "But everyone else. People only have about three things that they like to say when they want to seem nice, but don't really want to help. 'Oh I'm so sorry,' 'you're so brave,' 'are you sure there's nothing I can do?' Never mind the fact that they never actually asked if they could do something, just decided to confirm that there's nothing. It gets so easy to see through people as to whether or not they care or not."

Another uncomfortable pause.

"But," Lily conceded with a sigh. "I guess the upside is that when most people don't come through in any way shape or form, the ones who do are more meaningful. And you do really find out who your true friends are."

"I hope we're on the list," Sirius remarked.

Lily chuckled. "You're essentially the whole list."

"And all the people asleep up there, I hope."

"Yes, of course," Lily agreed.

"Where do you think you are in that whole process, Pidg?" James asked.

Lily moved her head around side to side. "Honestly?" He nodded. "I think I'm kind of okay. I've made the round. I've felt all the emotions. The other day I woke up and I was tired. And all I could think about was going downstairs and getting a coffee. So that's exactly what I did, and I drank my coffee, and it tasted good, and I felt less tired."

"And?" Sirius asked, amused.

"And I didn't think about my mum once. So I'd say that's pretty good."

"Pidg?" James asked quietly. He was asking permission. Lily nodded and sat up a little so she could actually turn to look at him. "Would it insult you if I called you brave?"

She let out a small laugh, and with it came a tear. Not an uncommon combination, she had learned recently. "No," she said, wiping her eyes. "You're exempt."

James extended his arms and gently grabbed her upper body under each arm. Lily used her hands to push back her weight until she was sitting next to him – which was a welcome change after hours (was it hours?) of the hard floor. Without much discussion, Lily seemed to follow an unspoken cue and ended up with her head nestled right below his collar bone. She was acutely aware of a hand that came to lie gently on her left calf, while the other found her shoulder.

Lily may not have loved everything about her life, but she almost felt as though she were predestined to end up in this exact position at this exact moment.

And the drugs weren't hurting either.

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

That other day... but earlier.

"Where did you get that dress?" Demanding. Judgemental.

"I borrowed it," Lily answered simply. In her head, she told her sister all about how it had been charmed, at first to green, and now to black, just to watch her explode with anger. Curiously, however, the real Petunia seemed to somehow be even more agitated.

"Everything always has to be about you, doesn't it?" she snapped.

Lily sighed heavily. Of course Petunia would find something else to vehemently detest. The alternative was unthinkable. "What did you want me to wear, exactly? My swimsuit?"

"Don't be thick," she hissed.

"I'm wearing a black dress. To a funeral. How exactly is this all about me?"

"It's too flashy!" she complained. All week, Petunia had been on a relentless mission to find something Lily was doing objectionable. She had complained tirelessly about the burden of having to give the eulogy, but was immensely offended when Lily had offered to speak in her stead (accusing her of not even knowing her mother). When Lily had started crying in the car ride over, she was being histrionic. Now that she had slipped off her coat, apparently her dress was too formal. "This isn't your prom," Petunia continued. "It's our mother's funeral."

"Oh thank you for the reminder," Lily groaned loudly, her arms fanning out to either side. Then she realized how loud she had just been. The two sisters were in their local church, welcoming (or, in this case, severely startling) their mother's friends and families.

"How dare you," Petunia whispered, her tiny words slashing Lily's ears like ice. Then she simply left.

Lily swayed side to side, seriously considering crumpling to the ground. Unfortunately, she seemed to find her centre of gravity, which also meant she was not relieved of duty. "I'm so sorry about that," she muttered calmly to the next guest as though they hadn't just witnessed the start of a psychotic break. "It's nice to meet you," she lied, then trailed off, not knowing how to conclude.

"Judy," the woman said, reaching out an overly-familiar way, grabbing both of Lily's hands.

When she was finally able to shake Judy, Lily simply gave up on the rest of the guests and went to find her dad. Surely they would be able to find their way from the door of the church to any of the equally-acceptable seating options without her help. "Tuney," Lily sighed when she finally spied her sister over by the lavatory. "I'm sorry." For what, Lily wasn't exactly sure. "Can we maybe not fight today?"

"I'd love to." Her words were clipped. She turned on the edge of her ballet flats and marched away. The implication – don't make us – was left unsaid.

Absent anything else to do, Lily was almost relieved when the vicar announced it was time to start.

Then she just about had a panic attack.

Lily made her way out of the church, breath shaky, as per her instructions. Her dad was already waiting for her and the pair of them naturally ensconced one another. "I miss her so much," she whispered, not knowing – and perhaps not even caring – if it was audible. She thought she heard a gentle 'me too,' but she might very well have imagined it. The pair mutually stopped embracing when they heard Petunia loudly clear her throat. Pallbearing duties to attend to.

Mother safely deposited at the front of the church, the two sisters took their seats. "That was morbid," Lily whispered to Petunia, trying to keep her rollercoaster of emotions in some semblance of order.

"Shut up." The words hurt, but they were merely butting up against the black hole of sorrow already present in Lily's chest; there wasn't room for much else.

However, it soon became apparent that Petunia was hell-bent on insisting she feel more. After Petunia's eulogy (a simple, unassuming farewell lacking in stories and emotions), everything intensified. "You couldn't just let me have this one day?" she whispered – but probably louder than intended.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Lily whispered back, instilling her words with as much quiet emotion as possible. If anyone had reason to ask Petunia's idiotic question, it had to be Lily at this point.

"Not every stranger on the street needs to see our dirty laundry," her sister replied sternly.

"Tuney," Lily whispered wearily. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do!" It was easily loud enough to people in the adjacent rows to hear, but Petunia didn't seem at all perturbed.

"No, Tuney," Lily carried on with a fake sense of calm. "Not only do I not know what you're talking about, but no one in this church would possibly know what you're talking about! It would take a team of Oxford PhD's to decode your inane messages." Lily was peripherally aware that she was making much too much of a scene – but that awareness was being steadily stymied by pride and rage.

Petunia gave a shrill noise of frustration and disgust – and then was obviously flooded with the same awareness. She pushed herself on to her feet and strutted her way back down the aisle and out of the church.

Lily felt a predictable wave of guilt. Other funeral attendees were staring at her, but she wasn't about to pretend she cared overwhelmingly about the opinions of a bunch of muggle strangers. However, her eyes flicked dangerously to her father, who was currently sitting with his sister. Their eyes met and she was consumed with his sense of despair and heartbreak. 'Don't worry,' she mouthed. Eric nodded. Lily quietly stood up and tried to follow her sister as discreetly as possible.

She had made it half-way down the aisle when her eyes settled on what had clearly set off Petunia: all four of the Marauders in their best attempt at muggle suits sitting in the very last row. Not wanting to stop her trajectory, she continued walking but mouthed 'what are you doing here?' Peter gave her a thumbs-up; Sirius gave her a fake round of applause. She doubted they appreciated the emotional gravity of the situation – though, all the same, she couldn't pretend she wasn't happy to have them in her corner. A strange wave of emotion hit her square in the chest as she passed them. She struggled to give it a name.

Pushing open the doors, she could see that Petunia hadn't made it far. She was halfway down the steps, leaning against the handrail. "Tuney," Lily called out gently. "I'm sorry, I—"

"How could you invite them?" she demanded, flipping around at whirlwind speed. It was similar to the faces and sounds the owls at Hogwarts would sometimes make before immediately lunging for your fingers.

"I didn't," Lily responded. She wanted to argue that she would have had every right to invite them, but her dad's pleading eyes popped into her head. She held her tongue.

"Oh of course you didn't."

"They're just trying to be supportive," Lily stated as soothingly as she could muster. She rubbed her palms up and down her cold arms, trying to warm up.

"Oh that's rich of them," Petunia breathed heavily.

Lily paused. Then gave a large, open shrug. "Am I actually upsetting you this much?" she asked, "or do you just hate me and these are excuses?"

"How dare you," Petunia accused, not for the first – or even second – time today.

"How dare I what?" Lily questioned. She did want to know. She was also losing her cool.

"How dare you insinuate that it would be appropriate for you to invite your freak friends to our mother's funeral."

There were so many objectionable sentiments, Lily didn't even know where to begin. "I'm not allowed to have people support me?"

"I never said that."

"Then what on earth did you say?" Lily demanded, flummoxed. Rather than answer, her sister crossed her arms and looked away. She sighed. "Look, Tuney. We don't have mum to regulate our relationship anymore. Which means we're going to have to do it ourselves."

"Fine," Petunia huffed. "You're right, we don't have mum anymore. But why is that Lilykins?" It was a jab, a name her mother would have called her in a different lifetime.

"Because sometimes the world is a profoundly unfair place," Lily answered snidely. It was a stupid question, deserving of a stupid answer.

"Oh yes," Petunia breathed back. "The world is an ironic place too, isn't it?" Lily groaned a response, but her sister continued. "Like how, two weeks after you tell us why it would be too dangerous for you to visit, our mother winds up dead?"

Lily felt like she had been hit by a truck. At no point during this week had it even remotely occurred to her that Petunia would be thinking something like this. She had a burst aneurysm, she said – out loud or internally, she wasn't sure.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Marauders poke their heads out of the church and join them. One of them gently asked how they were doing.

"And then," Petunia continued, the steamroller that she was, "you bring those people responsible to her literal funeral."

"You think they killed mum?" Lily wailed in exasperation. She was equal parts shocked and confused.

"Well not directly," Petunia whined.

"Oh, of course, they're indirect murderers, how could I have forgo—" The rest of Lily's wit would die on her tongue; it was silenced by Petunia lunging for her face.

Lily stumbled back three steps and teetered about on her heels, trying not to tumble face first down the rest of the steps. A pair of hands steadied her. She recognized them immediately as Sirius'. The left side of her face was stinging and she was almost glad for the sensation as a place for her to anchor her thoughts.

Her sister had struck her. Her sister. Her face. At her mother's funeral.

Lily slowly became aware of James telling Petunia to go back inside. She shot back with something patently indignant and self-righteous.

Her face was stinging with rejection.

OooooOooooOooooOooooO

That other day, but later...

Lily sat on a dishevelled couch in an otherwise extremely average home. Muggle music was blaring and there was a thin veil of smoke throughout the entire house. She had the distinct impression that she was presently visiting another life. Perhaps one where she wasn't a witch. And maybe didn't have a sister. And her mother... well, it wasn't clear if her mother was alive or not in this life, but it was certainly clear that Lily needed to stop thinking about that immediately if she were to keep it together.

Of course, the knowledge that her mother was potentially being lowered into the ground this very minute wasn't helping her keep it together.

"So how's the weed?" Dennis asked casually as he sat next to her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Excellent," Lily answered whole-heartedly. She had never been high before, and this certainly wasn't how she thought her first time would play out, but she had to admit it was better than any alternative for how this night was going to play out. It had dulled the edges of her thoughts and stopped the spiraling. Instead she was sitting with the not-wholly-unpleasant sensation of diffuse tingling and slow thinking. There were worse ways to grieve.

"Glad to hear it," Dennis agreed. He looked very proud of himself. "So, are you dating Paul?"

Lily tried to remember the fake names she had given the Marauders but it was quite the ordeal. She looked over to where the four of them were piled in a corner – they had ignored Lily's advice to take it easy on the baked goods that they were offered as soon as they entered the party. "You're talking about the one with glasses, right?" She hoped it came off as though she was just confirming Dennis' terrible memory, and not her own.

"Yeah."

"Nope," she answered simply.

"So he's just got it bad for you then?"

Internally, Lily laughed and laughed. To think one week ago this would have been one of the most exciting conversations she could have concocted (In fact, hadn't she had a similar conversation exactly one week ago? Had she just imagined it?). Now it was a minorly amusing distraction from the gaping hole in her heart.

"What makes you say that?" Lily asked.

"Well, he's checked on you about a hundred times. I said I was going to go talk to you right now and he looked like he wanted to sock me." Lily laughed – externally this time. "What's so funny?" Dennis inquired.

Lily wiped her eyes. "Want to know a secret?" Her couch companion indicated his agreement. "I've been in love with him for four years."

This time Dennis laughed. Lily shot him a look to show that she was curious why he found her unrequited love story so amusing. "It's nothing," Dennis apologized. "I just really love stories where people are miserable because of their own idiocy."

"That's a bit harsh," Lily commented. She didn't truly care. Nothing could hurt her more than the events that had already transpired that day.

"Probably. But you tell me – why don't you two just date if you love each other so much?"

A fair question. What was the answer again? "It's... complicated."

"It always is."

"He doesn't really love me," Lily informed Dennis. "He wants to protect me. Like a little sister."

Dennis thought about this for a few seconds. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Personally, I think he wants to shag you, though." It was almost amusing how little that statement affected Lily. Dennis leaned in to whisper in her ear: "but maybe that's just because I want to."

That much did get Lily to blush. "Probably not the best day for that," she told him diplomatically.

"Any day," he replied easily.

"I'll keep that in mind," Lily said with a smile.

Dennis reached into his pocket with some difficulty before removing a bag that obviously contained additional cannabis. "I'm too impatient for more brownies," he told her. "Want to go outside?" Lily nodded along through that process as though she were an expert user of drugs. She cast a quick glance at the Marauders but they didn't seem to be at all with it. Lily did have to admit she could stand to turn up the dial on her current numbness.

"Is that a bad idea?" she asked. "Mixing, I mean. I don't, er... do this often."

"Relax," he said in a way that normally would have been quite frustrating. "I'll take good care of you." Condescending, but strangely enjoyable in the context of someone she had no intention of ever seeing again.

He stood up from the couch and held out an outstretched hand. Lily took it without too much consideration. "You just told me you want to have sex with me," she said casually as the pair of them waded through the living room and out to the front porch.

"Because I do," he said with a smile. Say what you will about this kid, his confidence is a little attractive.

"Then you're the kind of boy I was always told not to accept drinks from," she replied as she looked at the rolled joint that was now being proffered.

Dennis laughed. "I'm playing the long game," he told her. "I'll wow you with my drugs and charming attitude now and I'll collect later."

"I go to school in Scotland," she mentioned, taking the joint.

"I'm patient." Lily turned the joint over in her hand, not entirely sure in her actions. It certainly didn't look as elegant as she had been expecting.

"Have you smoked before?" he asked knowingly. She shook her head quickly. Dennis took the joint back, lit it, and took a long drag. Then he passed it back. "Your job is to try and look as cool as I do," he told her.

Lily smiled a little, revelling in the feeling of her brownie and the loud music – and this boy who was dripping in confidence and openly espousing his attraction for her. She had the distinct sensation that she was at a fancy dress party where she and this other boy had attended as 'normal teenagers.' Not magical teenagers. Not grieving teenagers. Just normal teenagers who were experimenting with drugs and flirting. "How do I do that?" she asked, indulging him.

Dennis put his hand over hers and brought the joint to her mouth. "Don't cough," he said softly, and she could feel his warm breath on her face.

She coughed.

But soon, she felt warm and embraced (and by more than Dennis' lingering hand). She let out a deep sigh, feeling somewhat weightless, as though her problems were floating away – for now. She knew what was waiting for her tomorrow. But tonight's goal was to make it through the night.

"How do you feel?"

Lily let out a steady breath. "Better."

"Perfect," Dennis agreed. She felt him press something soft into her hand and she grabbed the bag. "For later," he told her with a smile.

"Hey Dennis," Lily called as he turned to go back into the party, an idea having just popped into her mind and immediately out into the world. "Can I borrow your lighter?"

"Why, you've got more drugs to smoke?" he joked.

Lily shook her head. "It'll just take two seconds." He acquiesced.

Gently, Lily wormed her fingers through her purse until they reached their goal: a small slip of paper. She took it out and unfolded it to reveal a small doodle of what Lily had thought – at the time – was an iris. She drew it in grade 2 for her mother and had only recently discovered that Iris kept it in her bedside table this entire time. Lily had impulsively grabbed it to save it from Petunia and had been thinking of putting it in her own bedside table at Hogwarts.

But just now, she had a different idea. She had, after all, been banished from her mum's funeral.

Without much ceremony, she used Dennis' lighter to start a small flame. Then she passed it back without a word.

She stood, engrossed, as she watched the edges of the paper turn black and flake off. Before she knew it, the flower was disappearing. "Goodbye mum," she whispered softly.