A/N: Not really any big TWs for this chapter (which is much nicer than the last!). There's some swearing, underage drinking, smoking, and implied/referenced underaged sex. In Peter's section, there is a very brief offhand reference to the death of a child.
December 22nd, 1975
She curled over, rubbing her feet against the clean sheets. Faint sunlight stroked her face. Her pillow was softer than she was used to. She cracked her neck. Footsteps padded across the landing outside her bedroom. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the incoming assault on her ears.
Petunia Evans knocked loudly on the door. Lily winced, hugging her pillow closer.
"Lily!" Petunia said sharply. "Lily! Up, now. It's past nine." Lily opened her eyes. She'd meant to have a lie-in, but not for that long.
"I'm up!" Lily yelled back, rolling over.
"Good! Quickly!" Petunia hissed. Lily listened to her descend the stairs, and only then did she sit up. It was strange, being home. Sometimes it felt more like she was visiting home, and lived at Hogwarts. She'd tossed and turned for an hour trying to get to sleep the night before, reminding herself that the shadows were outlines of things she loved, not creeping monsters. The world seemed so quiet. She kept rolling over with something to whisper-shout to Marlene, only to find her floral wallpaper staring blankly at her.
There were no curtains to pull back. She slipped out of bed uneasily. No trunk at the foot of her bed, either. Just a basket for her dirty clothes. Her desk was so close to her bed that she could use it as a bedside table, and the peach curtains of her window ended only inches above the dark wood. She crossed the room to her wardrobe. Pink shaggy carpet spurted between her toes. Lily chose her clothes carefully, trying to adapt the trends of the summer for the cold that had settled in Cokeworth. She knew what the most fashionable way to wear one's cloak was, or how to pair dragonhide gloves with your boots, but she'd heard nothing of muggle fashion since August. It was too complicated to order the magazines in; they, of course, didn't send them by owl, and she didn't want to have to ask her parents to keep forwarding them on. The girls of Cokeworth would not notice – it wasn't as if they were London fashion plates. Only Petunia would care. She would find a way to make a snide comment regardless of what Lily wore.
She grabbed her clothes and ducked into the bathroom. She hopped from foot-to-foot as she waited for the water to heat. The things she forgot about at Hogwarts. Petunia's hair clogged the drain and Lily scowled. She shivered as she dried herself off. Her toothbrush felt stale in her mouth, even though she'd used it last night. A fleck of toothpaste on the mirror covered her right eye when she looked up. She spat into the sink and headed downstairs.
Her dad sat at the far of the table, his crop of auburn hair fading into grey, and Mum was in the kitchen making tea. Petunia crossed her legs at the ankles, and sat primly. Lily almost laughed at her haughty expression.
"Good morning, pumpkin," Dad said warmly. Lily dodged Petunia and kissed his whiskery cheek.
"Morning, Dad," she said cheerily. He smiled.
"I've missed seeing you about in the morning. It's good to have you home." Lily hugged him tight. "It's good to have both our girls home." Petunia had arrived home on Saturday, and would be spending the week. She'd leave before Lily did.
"It's a wish come true," Mum said. "Petunia, won't you help me carry these?" She indicated the four cups on the counter. Petunia scoffed, and opened her mouth to speak.
"I'll help," Lily said, getting to her feet. Mum shook her head.
"Oh, Lily, you only got home last night, don't be silly."
"No, it's fine. Whose are these?"
"That one's yours, and that one's your father's."
Lily gave Dad his tea and settled into a chair to enjoy her own. Before she took the first sip, however, she paused.
"It's Monday, isn't it?" she asked.
"Mm," Mum said. Lily looked at her father.
"Shouldn't you be at work?" she asked.
"Lily!" Petunia hissed. Lily looked at her.
"What?" Lily demanded. "Is there something I don't know?" She searched her family's faces. She realised, heart sinking, that there was. "Oh. Dad."
"It's alright," he said, scratching his nose. "I'll pick up something new, in the new year. It's all good timing though, it gives me an excuse to stay home with my three beautiful girls, doesn't it?" Lily felt like crying. Not again. Mum rubbed his shoulder.
"You know," Petunia said, in that snotty posh voice, the one she used now that she lived in London and was so much better than the Scouse scum the rest of the family was, "Vernon's never been out of a job. Never. Not once, since he finished at the Academy." The Academy was some mythical place in the south where boys became men – or, where spoiled boys became entitled arseholes, in Lily's opinion. She thought Potter would be a good fit. "He got a job at Grunnings the day after he left school, and look at him now!"
"You're still with him?" Lily asked, disgusted.
"That's good," Dad said firmly, eyeing Lily, who gulped down her tea to keep from talking. "That stability is important." Perhaps Vernon's job was stable, but he himself was not. She felt slightly guilty for loathing him, considering that they had never met properly; Petunia had actually gone out of her way to prevent Lily from meeting him, convinced that Lily would sabotage it. That only made Lily want to sabotage it more. But she believed what her parents told her about him, even though they were very polite in their retellings, and she and Snape had (shamefully) snuck into her back garden when Vernon visited Cokeworth at the start of the summer, and eavesdropped as best as they could. They had been rewarded with Vernon's ringing shouts about the ridiculousness of a woman being Leader of the Opposition. Lily loathed Milk Snatcher too, but not because she was female.
"I think so," Petunia smirked. Lily drained the rest of her tea. "What about you, Lily? Any boys? What do your kind do when they finish school? I can't imagine there's a large demand for turning people into toads."
"Oh, you'd be surprised. There's actually a holiday discount on family members – buy one potion to turn your sister into a rat, and get one to turn her tyrant of a boyfriend into a bullfrog for free!"
"Lily!" Mum scolded, and Petunia scoffed, turning her nose up.
"Well, I can see why no boy wants to take you out, with a mouth like that."
"I don't see how any boy can take you out with a face like yours, you always look like you've been drinking river water."
"Girls!" their father said. Petunia stood.
"I won't take this. I come home, all the way from London, to be with my family for the holidays in this hole of a town, and she comes in fresh from her fancy freak-show school and has the nerve to have a go at me because I'm dating someone who isn't a factory worker or a loon!"
"Are you too good for us now, Tuney?" Lily shrieked, jumping to her feet. "Do you think you're too good for Cokeworth, with your fancy coat and your Queen's English? You're Cokeworth all over, your feet have hard soles and you know, when you get mad, you're Cokeworth down to your bones and you can hear it. The moment you and Vernon have a row he'll remember where you came from, and see how he likes you then. You'll have to keep your temper all your life to keep him, because boys like that don't want girls like us. You're not any better. To posh boys we may as well be on the estate." It was taunting, now, but Lily didn't care.
"I hate you!" Petunia hissed. She stormed out and up the stairs, footsteps banging each step.
"Lily, that's not fair," Mum said. Lily took a rattling breath. Her throat hurt. "Please. Go easy on her."
"Why should I?" Lily demanded. Her mum looked stern. She softened her voice. "Sorry. It's just, it's always me that has to change for her. She can come here any time. This is all I get until Easter."
"It's hard for her," Dad said.
"It's not my fault," Lily pleaded with them to understand. "I wanted her to come. I didn't want to be the only one. Maybe she feels left behind, but I feel like I was sent away." Her words were thick now, and she cursed silently. Why did her first morning have to be ruined because of Petunia?
"You could come back," Mum said cautiously. "You could do a typing course, like she did." They didn't want that. She knew they didn't. Lily was the one that was going to break out and do something good, something weird and magical but good. Coming back wasn't an option.
"Mum," Lily said.
"Go wash your face. And then apologise, please. We want to go out to the pub," Mum said.
"Okay. Sorry."
"Go on, pumpkin," Dad said. Lily trudged back upstairs.
She didn't wash her face. She went back into her bedroom, sat on her bed, and stared out the window. Plumes of smoke puffed out of sad grey chimneys. She wondered how different her life might've been if she were a muggle, or if Petunia were magical. She was certain Petunia would be a Slytherin. Maybe it was better that Petunia could not go to Hogwarts. Not all Slytherins were like Sev. It would've been a wretched time.
And how would Sev be doing? She stood, and craned her neck to spot the roofs of Spinner's End. He would be miserable. Of course he would be miserable. She hated that there was nothing she could do. When they'd been younger, they'd talked of him running away, or of Lily's parents adopting him, but none of it was possible. He just had to hold on until he was seventeen. He would leave his mother, which was good for him, but Lily personally could never do it, if it were her. She'd fight for her mother to her last breath. Sev said that was why she was a Gryffindor; she had no self-preservation instinct. She didn't think that was a bad thing. She was thankful that she had never been in a situation where she had to make some sort of sacrifice, though. Her family was good. Her greatest nemesis at home was Petunia. Lily gritted her teeth. On that note, she had to apologise. Petunia wouldn't apologise to her. She sighed.
She left her room and knocked on Petunia's door. To her surprise, it was ajar, and swung open. The room was very bare. It was pretty and well-kept, as the guest bedroom, but it lacked evidence of life. Then again, that was not so different from when it had been Petunia's room. She'd never been one to paper her walls with posters or photographs. Lily knew Petunia would just die to see Marlene's bedroom. She tutted at Lily's, which only had a couple of photographs, and nice ones too – the ones with rude hand gestures or stupid expressions were kept in an album under her bed, not displayed.
Petunia sat cross-legged in the middle of the cream double bed, reading a letter. She looked up at Lily's entrance.
"What?" she asked irritably. "I'm busy." Lily took a deep breath. For Mum and Dad's sake. It wasn't about whether or not Petunia was a haughty, disdainful snob. It was about not making the holidays harder than they needed to be. Peace-keeping.
"I'm sorry." Lily forced the words. Petunia snorted.
"You aren't," she said sharply. "You meant every word." Lily groaned, and pressed her head against the door frame.
"What do you want me to say, Tuney?"
"Nothing. Just leave it." Petunia crumpled the letter and threw it at the wall. Lily blinked. Petunia sniffed. Lily grabbed the door handle and swung it back and forth. Petunia glared at her. "Must you?"
"I love you," Lily said, sincerely. Petunia pursed her lips.
"Love you," she said shortly. Lily smiled. Petunia frowned. "Now leave, please."
"Are you coming to the pub?"
"Do I have a choice?" Lily poked her tongue out, and shut the door before Petunia could react. Sorted. It wasn't that bad.
They didn't leave for another hour, which Lily filled in by writing Christmas cards. There was one for each of the girls in her dormitory, though Marlene and Mary's were a lot more personal, and then she wrote one for Remus, and Glen Vane, and after some deliberation, Marcus McLaggen. He always offered to help her fill out the prefect reports for taking points or giving detention, and he'd wished her 'Merry Christmas' on the platform in Hogsmeade. She wrote a card for Sev, too, but it wasn't very long. It was the only one she would be delivering in person, and she figured it would be nicer to say everything to his face.
"Fifteen minutes!" Mum called, and Lily scribbled off her post-script on Sev's card. Then she ducked into the bathroom to fix her hair and apply a touch of make-up. Petunia stood in front of the mirror, powdering her cheeks. Their eyes met in their reflections. They had an understanding. For the both of them, it was the first time they'd be running into their Cokeworth friends since the summer. Petunia wordlessly handed Lily her foundation.
They came down the stairs together, and Dad laughed.
"Well, aren't you two all dolled up?" he grinned. "It's only Railway."
Railway Tavern (not Railway Hotel, which was a posher place on the outskirts of town) had been the Evans' pub of choice for generations. It was two streets away, and catered to the Liverpudlian side of Cokeworth (the southern side was known as the Chester or Welsh side of Cokeworth, but Lily hardly counted it). There were other pubs, of course, but none as good as Railway. Dad swung the door open. It took Lily a moment to settle into the smell of tobacco and spilled, cheap beer; it had been too long. A group of men waved at Lily's dad; Danny from three doors down, and Graham and Ian and Malcolm and Welsh Alan.
"The Evans girls are back!" Ian grinned. "Give us a kiss." Mum chuckled, and Petunia clutched her purse. Lily grinned.
"Where's Pam?" she asked. Ian roared with laughter, as did the other men.
"Cheeky!" he said. Dad clapped Lily on the shoulder.
"I'll be over soon," Dad said. "We're having lunch. A treat for the girls."
"Right on," said Malcolm.
They found a booth in a good spot near the bar. Petunia turned her nose up at a spill on the seats, but Lily grabbed a napkin and wiped it off. They kept their coats on, and Lily went cross-eyed looking at the tip of her nose, which Dad informed her was turning bright red. They ordered chips, and beers all round, which took Lily aback. Things were different in Cokeworth, and she'd be sixteen next month. It was probably normal for all the other girls her age. She'd always been the odd one out, refusing a sip when her Dad offered. Now, she said nothing. Petunia turned her nose up, and Dad's smile flickered for a second before he waved his hand.
"More for me, then, Pet," he said. Lily frowned at the glass in front of her. If her parents were allowing it, it was alright. It just felt weird. She was a bit of a swot, wasn't she? The thought made her glum. She didn't want to be like Petunia. So she sipped it nervously. It wasn't especially good. How did they sit around drinking it all day?
The chips were better, just how she remembered. At first, conversation between the four of them was stilted; awkward questions about how the last few months had been, and what they'd been up to. Lily's explanation of her studies went quite badly, given that she kept lowering her voice whenever she referenced something magical, and had to keep remembering to explain it in words they'd understand.
"So, there's sort of a formula, like in maths, but it's about um, the…energy, or power, needed…"
"Maths," Petunia said. "Ridiculous subject. If you know enough to do the weekly shopping, that's all you need. I don't believe that rubbish about maths getting you to the moon." Lily looked at her, perplexed.
"How else would they have gotten there?" she asked. Petunia waved a hand.
"Does it matter? I can tell you, you don't do that with sums. Vernon thinks so."
"Oh, well, if Vernon thinks so," Lily said. Her mother looked at her. "Sorry, Petunia." Petunia harrumphed.
As lunch grew closer, and familiar faces trickled in, they eased into their usual way of being a family. Petunia even smiled when Mum spoke, and Dad choked when Lily made a rather dry remark about Graham's concerns over his daughter's boyfriend. Lily's cheeks warmed as she emptied her pint, and she laughed a little louder.
A group of girls entered the pub shortly after one, and Lily straightened up. She knew them; of course she knew them. They were her former classmates, and they lived on her street, or one nearby. There was Diane Roberts, a sunny blonde; Sally Sturt, from the estate; Jane Simmons and Patty Clark lived on Lily's street; and Sue Rogers, whose father was a friend of Lily's dad.
"Lily! That you?" Patty cried out. Lily waved to them, and they waved back. Patty ran through the pub and skidded to a halt by their booth. She flung her arms around Lily, who then stood to hug her hello. "You're back! Why didn't you tell me? You coulda phoned!"
"I should've, sorry," Lily said, very consciously broadening her accent. Guilt pulled at her stomach. Lily hadn't spared a thought for Patty since she headed off to school. Three months without a call or a letter; Patty had every right to be cross, but she didn't appear to be.
"Come on, we're having lunch," Patty said. "Hullo, Nita, Hugh. Petunia! Didn't know you were back either."
"I'm only home for the holidays," Petunia said.
"Shame," said Patty. "D'you mind if we steal Lily? Lots to catch up on." Lily's parents exchanged a look. Mum smiled thinly.
"Alright," Mum said.
"Ta, you're the best. Come 'ed, Lil." Patty all but dragged her off.
The others swarmed, hugging her tight, and the crowd pushed her along and it a seat at the back of the pub. Sally lit a cigarette, and Lily pressed her lips together, saying nothing.
"Come over, tonight," Jane started saying. "You missed my birthday. We'll have another party, won't matter none."
"That's alright," Lily laughed, shaking her head.
"Our parties aren't like the ones at boardin' school," Sally chimed in. The girls roared with laughter.
"It's not that!" Lily protested.
"Aw, shut it," Patty grinned, slapping her shoulder. Lily tilted her head back, giggling.
"Owww."
"Be nice," Diane warned. Patty raised her hands.
"I'm bein' nice!" Patty said. Sue smiled weakly, and ducked her head down. Lily frowned.
"Alright, Sue?"
"Ooh," Sally said. They all fell silent. Lily looked around at them. Something else she didn't know. She only missed Cokeworth when she came back. It was easy to forget that life didn't pause itself, waiting for her return. Time marched on relentlessly when she was at Hogwarts, and when she returned, the whole town had shifted a little to the left.
"What?" Lily asked. This time, she couldn't figure it out. There was no pattern. No clues. Sue's parents had been fine in the summer, as Sue had been herself. She'd been quite happy, actually, with Little Rod, despite all the jokes Sally made about his name. Oh. Lily bit her lip. "Did something happen with Little Rod?" Sue paled.
"Somethin' happened, alright," Sally laughed. None of the others joined in. Lily cursed internally. She'd known that boy was trouble. Of course he wouldn't be the type to let her down gently. He'd probably gone off with some other girl. Poor Sue.
"Well, he's the worst," Lily said firmly. Nobody backed her up. Sue hadn't cheated on him, had she? No. She wouldn't do that.
"Tell the baby that," Sally chortled.
"Sal!" Diane scolded. Sue stared into her lap. Lily looked between Sally and Sue.
"What?" she said. Silence. "Truly?"
"I think so," Sue said, shifting in her seat. "I haven't had…you know…since the summer." Lilt sat still, trying to take it all in. Sue was younger than she was – not by a great deal, but she wouldn't be sixteen until May. Lily counted the months on her fingers under the table. She hadn't yet decided for sure if she would be returning to Cokeworth on the Easter holidays (though she hadn't told her parents that), as most fifth years stayed to continue studying and make use of the library. If she didn't come back until the summer, the next time she saw Sue, Sue would have a baby in her arms. Lily's head spun with the implications of it all. She knew some of her friends from Cokeworth were having sex, but…This was too much.
Lily opened her mouth to ask, 'have you told your parents?', but that was stupid.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, instead. Sue shrugged.
"Well, Roddy don't want anythin' to do with me," she said. "He's with Marcie now. He doesn't want her to know."
"I hate her," Lily said hotly. "And she'll have to find out sometime. What's he going to do, lie about visiting the baby? Say he's heading to the pub?" Sue dipped her head so low that Lily could barely see her face.
"No. I don' think he'll be comin' to see the baby at all," Sue said. Lily's heart sunk. A rage in her stomach leapt to cradle its fall.
"But it's his kid," Lily said. "The baby needs a father. Marcie's horrid, but even she would think he was a prat if he didn't do anything."
"Yeah, but he'll say it's not his," Sally said. "He'll call Sue a slag. And who wouldn't believe him, with her state? Obviously she didn't wait for marriage, so she must be a whore."
"That's so stupid!" Lily burst out. "What an arse." Sue stared at the table.
"I shouldn't've done it, then," she said miserably.
The conversation turned away from Sue's predicament, but Lily quietly fumed. She was so caught up in her swirl of thoughts about what a dick Little Rod was that she missed what Patty said.
"Lily!" Patty said, clapping by her ear.
"Sorry," Lily said.
"You were all the way in Ireland," Patty snorted. "Anywho, do you?" Lily raised her eyebrows.
"Do I what?"
"Are you with someone?" Sally interjected.
"Some dreamy posh boy," Diane said dreamily. "I'll bet he has a horse." Lily laughed. She'd heard of the richer purebloods owning a wide array of strange creatures, but there were less horses involved than she would've thought. She shook her head.
"No, I don't have a boyfriend," she said. "I'm too busy. I have to study all the time. I have my big exams in June."
"Bullshit," Sally said. "Surely there's a boy who's sweet on you. You're too pretty, for a ginger." Patty chuckled. Lily rolled her eyes.
"Come on," Jane said. "Tell."
"There's nobody," Lily insisted.
"What about that boy from Spinner's End?" Jane asked. Patty gasped.
"No! What was his name? He went away for school too, they reckon, but I think his dad just got the shits with him," Patty said.
"Sev. And, no."
"He always liked you," Diane said.
"We're friends," Lily said. "Come on, can't we talk about something other than boys? When we talk about them too much, they start thinking that they make the world go round."
"Alright, then," Diane said. "I had a dream the other day that someone trapped me inside the Chester walls."
"What?" Sally scrunched her nose. Lily wondered if she ought to have taken Divination. It'd impress the Cokeworth girls without involving the Ministry.
"I had a dream that I was trapped inside the Chester walls," Diane repeated. "I think it means something."
"I think it means, 'don't go to Chester'," Jane said.
"This is why we talk about boys," Sally said crossly, pulling on one of her brown plaits.
"I think it means that…you…don't want to be...limited? By where you grew up," Lily improvised wildly, thinking back to when she'd helped Mary with her dream journals the year before.
"Oh," Diane said. "Well, that makes sense. More sense than what I thought. I thought, maybe, there's like a ghost of someone who got trapped in the walls, and he was speaking to me."
"Why would he speak to someone on this side of Cokeworth?" Jane asked. "Wouldn't he go to the Chester side of Cokeworth?"
"Unless someone from the Chester side lured him there and killed him," Patty enthused.
"Fucking ghosts are a crock of shit," Sally grumbled. Lily wondered if she could convince Peeves to come to the midlands. She thought he and Sally would make a fearsome team.
The conversation rolled into debates over various supernatural beings and creatures and superstitions, and Lily grew tight-lipped, though she often couldn't suppress her laughter. Real, she thought. Not real. Real. Real. Real. Not sure about that one. I probably should know, given that I'm taking Care of Magical Creatures. When it came to one being, Lily couldn't keep a straight face.
"I don't believe in witches," Sally asserted. "Or wizards, or that Merlin bloke, or any of that cock-and-bull. All a load of shit. They just wanted to burn the local tramps." You're sitting next to one, Sal, Lily felt like saying. I have a trunk full of spellbooks at home, if you'd like to see. Sally was more solemn than Lily had seen her in her entire life. And they'd known each other since nursery. Lily ducked her head to suppress her giggles, shoulders shaking furiously. "What?" Sally demanded. Lily took deep breaths. It sort of turned into hyperventilating. Her face flamed red. She clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to force her lips into a neutral expression.
"Nothing!" Lily squeaked.
"Have I got something on my face?" Sally asked.
"Yeah, you do," Patty said. "Hold still, I'll get it." Patty gently moved her hand to a spot on Sally's cheek, paused, and then slapped her lightly.
"Bitch!"
"You asked for it!" In the chaos that ensued, Lily resurfaced. In the end, Barb who worked the bar came round and advised them to go outside and clear their heads. Lily waved apologetically at her parents. Petunia glowered. Dad waved her off, laughing.
The girls stumbled out onto the street, Patty and Sally still shoving each other. Sue looked green.
"Are you alright?" Lily asked. Sue shoved her hands in the pockets of the daggy brown coat she wore.
"Tummy just gets a bit topsy-turvy," Sue said. "S'alright." They passed a few other shops, and Lily quickly realised they were headed to the park. Not the one where she and Sev hung out, at Spinner's End, but the big one near Diane's house.
"How's it all going?" Lily asked, vaguely gesturing to her stomach. Sue shuffled her feet.
"Fine, I think. Don't know much about it. I went up to Liverpool to see the doctor about it – didn't want Dr Jenkins knowin', you know, considerin'."
"Mm," Lily said. Dr Jenkins was Marcie Jenkins' father, and probably wouldn't be pleased to know his daughter's boyfriend had gotten a girl pregnant. "When are you due?"
"May." She scratched her nose. "I'm gonna have to tell my parents soon. I'm startin' to get fat and all." Lily sighed. Part of her still couldn't believe it. It was still years before anyone her age was meant to have kids; they had to finish school and get jobs and get married and then children would come into the equation. Lily loved babies – well, the ones she'd actually been around, she liked, which were mainly Diane's younger siblings – but she definitely didn't want one of her own until she was twenty-four or something similar. She wanted to study after Hogwarts; she wanted to get a good job and get somewhere in it before she had to settle down. She couldn't imagine having a baby now. Would taking a newborn into your O. be allowed? Would Hogwarts expel you? Surely they'd come across the issue before, given that it was a mixed-gender boarding school full of teenagers.
"Are you going to be okay?" Lily asked, as the park came into sight. Sue stopped dead. She looked so miserable that Lily wanted to throw her arms around her; Lily nearly volunteered to take Sue and the baby in herself.
"I don't think they'll throw me out," Sue mumbled. "Hope not."
"Oh, Sue," Lily said. Sue tilted her face to the sky, biting her lip. "Hug?"
"Alright." Lily squeezed her tight.
Her thoughts churned as she headed home, smelling of Sally's cigarettes and Diane's perfume. She could think of nothing that would help Sue. She could only cross her fingers and hope that Mr and Mrs Rogers looked after her. Lily fretted. She would be off at school when the baby came; none of the girls wrote letters, and there wasn't exactly a telephone Lily could use to ring and ask. She'd have a better idea if she came home for Easter. But she needed to study. She kicked a stone. It didn't make her feel much better.
That was the thing, wasn't it? When she'd gone off to school, she'd chosen the magical world over that of Cokeworth. Now that she was part of it, she couldn't come back. How could she? But it meant missing things. Missing things like Sue getting pregnant, and breaking up with Little Rod, and Jane's birthday. If Lily had been around, she would've caught the bus to Liverpool with Sue and held her hand in the waiting room. She hadn't been around. She'd been busy charming something to change colours, or writing down the properties of a unicorn horn, and Sue had been alone and frightened in the city, waiting for the confirmation that her life was forever changed. It only took a day away from magic for it all to seem like something out of a fairytale. Something marvellous and exciting, but hardly real. Real was Cokeworth. Here, Death Eaters were only villains from children's stories. Her heart ached for something she couldn't put into words. She wished she never had to leave Cokeworth. She wished she never had to return. It was best described by what happened when she got home; the Evanses sat around their television set and half-watched a show about Robin Hood. Mum asked Petunia if she had seen the last episode of Coronation Street. Petunia said that she had. Mum, Dad, and Petunia then rapidly descended into a heated discussion about Tricia (whose haircut, Lily thought, looked a bit like Marlene's), and Lily sat there, racking her brains to remember the last episode she'd seen. Whatever had happened with Mavis and her date? She sat there, staring at the television, and her family's words swirled around her but made no sense. It was as if she'd time-travelled. She wished she'd seen every episode. She wished she'd never heard of the bloody show and could put it out of her mind for good. In the end, she nearly cried, and Mum said she was looking peaky and sent her to bed with a cup of tea.
Coming home was never as simple as she wanted it to be.
December 23rd, 1975
Peter's arms hurt. He was ready to give whoever had restricted underage magic a piece of his mind. His mum gnawed on her nails beside him.
"A little bit to the left." Peter moved. "No, other left." Peter moved to the left – or was it the right? Whichever way his wand hand was. "Oh. I just don't know. Philip!"
Enter Peter's father, a beefy man in cream house robes. He scratched his chin.
"What do you think?" Mum asked anxiously.
"Maybe a little to the left?" Dad said. Peter wanted to throw the damned thing across the room and scream. He almost did, but then he remembered that he currently had a giant leaf wedged into his cheek, and that screaming would probably blow his cover. His mother already held the belief that he'd messed up his jaw somehow at school, and kept poking at him, trying to figure out why his voice was different. He made do with a groan.
"My arm hurts," he said.
"We'll be quick," Mum promised. Bollocks, Peter thought. Quick as a flobberworm.
"I don't think Pat will care about where it goes," Peter said. Mum sniffed. Dad shook his head.
"Of course she will," Mum said. "We've hung it up since she was a little girl. She'll know if it's missing, and then Christmas just won't be the same." Peter considered this. It had been hanging up for as long as he could remember, and he didn't especially cherish it. He thought he and his sister would be delighted to have it accidentally tossed in with a handful of floo powder.
"No, more to the right," Dad said. Peter whined, but did as he was told.
"What about there?" he asked. His biceps burned.
"What do you think, Enie?" Dad asked.
"Oh, I don't know," Mum said. "We might need to stand back."
"I think it's great here," Peter said. "She'll love it. You can cast the charm now."
"Petey," Mum said.
"Muuum." She shook her head, but trotted out of the hall to get her wand. Dad followed her. Peter glared at the horrendously offensive piece of crap his parents insisted was art. It made him want to let a jar of flesh-eating slugs on himself. They had the gall to ask why he never invited people over when their idea of Christmas decorations included this. For the thousandth time, he wished he could have cool parents, like the Potters. They were all nice and loving without being clowns.
"Okay, hold it still!" Mum said, rolling up her sleeves. Peter pulled a face. "Careful, or the wind will change and it'll get stuck that way," she chided. Peter murderously glared at the patch of wall above the frame. It was a nice, plain, untouched bit of wall. It looked how a wall was meant to.
He winced as his mother cast the charm. She clapped her hands together.
"It's adorable," she announced. "Oh, Pat will be so happy to see we haven't forgotten about it. She didn't believe me when I told her we had it out last Christmas. Thought I was talking nonsense! Well, she'll see." She probably didn't want to believe you'd put it out.
"Can I let go?" Peter asked.
"You're so impatient. Yes, you can let go." Peter retracted his hands quickly. There hung the monstrosity of his nightmares. Two fat, naked cherubs sat on fluffy white clouds, gazing upwards. Strange, but not horrible. One was much larger than the other, which made it weirder, and there was a blank patch of sky in one corner. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that the cherubs were cursed with mangled approximations of Peter and his sister Patricia's faces, squashed and stretched to fit onto the unfamiliar heads. Yes; in the entrance of the Pettigrew's house, hanging beneath the stairs where everyone who passed through to or from the living area, there was a giant, poorly painted, still portrait of Peter if he were a naked cherub. The only mercy was that, originally, it had only been of Patricia, and she took up rather more room than him. His mother was convinced it was sweet. His father liked that it pleased his mother. Peter burned with fiery hatred at the thought of it, and he was sure that Patricia did too.
He stomped into the kitchen and raided the biscuit tin. He left it out on the counter just to make more work for his mum. Fair was fair. He'd got stuck helping to install the bane of his existence; she could put the lid on a tin and put it back in the cupboard. He flipped a rude hand gesture at the painting as he passed, and ran upstairs to confine himself to his room. He switched on the radio, and shimmied his shoulders to the boppy tune that sounded. He stepped over the pyjamas he'd left on the floor, and sat down at his desk. His copy of 'Spellman's Syllabary' was opened to page seventy-two. Peter frowned. None of it made any sense to him. He'd scraped a pass in Ancient Runes, just barely, and the point that had got him across the line had just been a lucky guess. He couldn't wait to drop the subject. He shut the textbook and chucked it over by his trunk, where a pile of abandoned school supplies grew. He had all the best intentions of revising over the holidays, and getting a head start on his head start for his assignments next term and everything – but he just couldn't learn at home. Home wasn't for learning. It was for listening to music and writing letters to friends and reading comics and jabbing his wand at random things and practising his flying with nobody to tell him he was doing it wrong.
Peter grabbed a spare bit of parchment and scribbled off a quick letter to James, updating him on the horrors of his parents, and asking if James was going to Glen Vane's party, and, you know, how many people were going, and then bemoaning his own lack of plans for New Year's…Peter hoped it was subtle enough. With James, he probably could've come right out and asked if he could go as James' plus-one, but it felt a bit needy. He read over the letter once more, crossed his fingers, and headed back downstairs.
"Can I use Pepper?" he yelled out. He'd forgotten an envelope. Damn it. He scurried into the kitchen, and hunted through the stack of things in the corner of the kitchen. He found an envelope that was blotched with blue ink, but there was enough space to right James' address. He could've sent it off with just James' name, but sometimes the owls got a bit lost without an exact address, and Peter wanted a quick answer. He screwed on the lid of the inkpot, shoved the quill back into the cup of writing utensils, and then sealed his letter with a lick.
"Mum? Dad?" he shouted. "Can I use Pepper?"
"I can't hear you!" Mum bellowed. "Come here!"
"Where?"
"I said I can't hear you! Come here!" Peter groaned loudly.
"Where?!" She wasn't in the living room, and he stuck his head out the back door and saw that she wasn't in the garden, either. "Mum!"
"Peter!" she said. He bumped into her in the hall. "I was in the loo."
"Mum," he said, disgusted.
"What? Don't be all coy, we all need to go -"
"Can I use Pepper?" he asked. "Where is she?" Mum bit her thumbnail.
"How long for?" she asked. He threw his hands in the air. How hard did it have to be to send a bloody letter? James' parents didn't make him run all over the house to ask. He could use Ignotus whenever he wanted. Why did Peter's parents have to be so annoying?
"I just want to send an owl to James," he said. "It's not far."
"Well, what if Patricia owls, and we need to send one back?"
"She won't! Mum, we can use whatever owl she sends, then."
"Well, that's only if she buys it for a letter and return, and she'll think that we'll have Pepper, so she won't." Peter tilted his head back, whinging.
"I promise it'll be quick," he said. "Please. It's only to Godric's Hollow. Well, near there."
"Peter, that's a hundred miles away! That'll be a four hour trip, and that's if James reads it right away."
"He will," Peter said. He would, if he wasn't playing Quidditch, or messing about with spells, or out in Diagon Alley or visiting someone. "Pat's portkey isn't due until five. There's plenty of time."
"I wouldn't say plenty," Mum said. "If something happens, it's your fault. She was in the guest room last I saw. Check the utility room otherwise."
"Okay," Peter said, and he hurried up the stairs before she could keep nagging him. He nudged open the door to his sister's old room – these days it was the guest room, technically, but she was the only one who stayed for any length of time anyways. Sure enough, Pepper was perched on the windowsill. She ruffled her flecked feathers at his entrance.
"Can you take this for me? To James?" he asked. She regarded him curiously. He stroked her with a finger. "Come on. Hold still." She held out her leg obediently, and he gave it to her. Then he opened the window. "He'll feed you. You like his food, don't you? It's really expensive. His mum orders it in from somewhere in Scotland." That was enough to motivate her. She started out the window and soared high, hopefully far enough above that she would look like a normal bird to the muggles. He shut the window and returned to his room.
He mulled around a bit, and then decided to go for a bit of a fly. It was a bit of a hassle, though. First, he tracked dad down (he was in the shed) and convinced (begged) him to put the charms up that would stop the muggles from seeing. His dad did, but it meant that Peter could only fly up to ten feet higher than the roof of the house.
"Well, it's a tricky spell," Dad said. "If you want to go for a proper fly, write to some of those friends of yours and go to one of the moors." Peter rolled his eyes. That was a whole process. There were a few moors scattered around the country that the Ministry had warded so that you could go and fly to your heart's content, but you had to go into the Ministry and catch one of the portkeys in the morning, and you never knew who else would be going. It'd be easier just to go to James'. He had a Quidditch pitch in his backyard, basically full-sized, and his parents paid people to come in and update their wards every few years. James had never managed to fly high enough to break through the wards, even when he'd been trying. Remus had said that was kind of the point. If James did break the wards, he'd be high enough that nobody would see him anyways. Except an aeroplane. Peter hated the look of those things. The muggles were mad.
Peter made do with what he had, and dug out the old family broom and had a go with it. He started off with a few laps, the way James did. It wasn't as easy as it looked. He hadn't spent any significant amount of time on a broom since he'd had Flying Lessons back in his first year. The cushioning charm had mostly worn off, and sitting with a cold, hard broom between his legs was about as pleasant as it sounded. He gripped the handle tight ad left himself with splinters in his palms. Whenever he leaned to turn, he nearly slid off, and so he kept no higher than five feet off the ground. His stomach and arms ached with the task of keeping him upright, and his arse soon got sick of the broom. Twenty minutes later, he touched down, having gained nothing more than a sour expression.
After that, he enjoyed a long, piping hot shower, and proceeded to sulk in his room, daydreaming about Glen Vane's party (James would get the hint. He couldn't miss it.) and who might be there. He ticked off a list on his fingers. He was chiefly interested in the girls that would be attending. He expected James' girlfriend wouldn't be invited, because she was a third year, and so her friend Cathy wouldn't be there either. Unless Dale took her. But was Dale going? It wasn't a party without Dale, but then, Ravenclaw parties might be different. Peter just hoped there would be some pretty girl drunk and kind enough to kiss him. If they couldn't have James, maybe he'd be second best.
Second best was okay, if it was compared to James. He couldn't hope to be better.
At ten to four, something hit his window. He bolted upright, and saw that Ignotus – not Pepper, but Ignotus – was outside. Peter opened it to let the owl in. Ignotus dropped the letter into his hands, and proudly perched on the sill. Peter got up and rummaged through his desk for owl treats. In the end, he only found an old, crusted Bertie Botts bean.
"I'm sorry," he said. Ignotus regarded him keenly. He grabbed his glass of water and sat it next to the owl. "Any good?" Ignotus looked at him. "Sorry." Ignotus flew back into the sky. Peter watched him disappeared, and wondered how soon Pepper would be home. Ignotus was much faster than Pepper, which was probably why James had sent his reply by him. Peter dropped into his desk chair and tore open the envelope.
'Hi Pete,
Glad to hear you're home safe and everything. Sorry about your parents. That sucks. It's good that Pat's coming home, though. A year and a half since you last saw her! If I had a sister, I don't think I could go that long without seeing her. I reckon you're lucky. You're the only one of us four with a sibling that you get along with, even if she's way older. Sirius loves Regulus, but sometimes the way he talks, I think he might kill him.
I'm doing good. Popped into Diagon yesterday to get Christmas presents – it took me ages to figure out what to get Lisbete. Try to guess what I got her! Think creatively. This morning we went round to Aunt Dorea's place for breakfast. She's the one who was married to my dad's cousin, the one whose son died when he was only nineteen. Ichabod. She lives in Hogsmeade, actually. Mum said I should go to visit her more. Would you come along? Or maybe I'll take Sirius. She was born a Black, so I guess they're related. Anyways, she was a bit miserable, so we've invited her over for Christmas. I'm happy to swap with you – I'll have Pat over and you can have Aunt Dorea. No, she's not that bad. Just a downer. We'd just got home and I spotted Pepper. Lucky timing. Hope you don't mind that I'm sending this with Ignotus. I don't want to rush Pepper. How old is she now?
And yeah, I'm going to Glen's party! You should come along. I reckon the more the merrier. I don't think we're allowed to stay over there, but you can stay at mine. Mum and Dad will be okay with it. Talk to your parents. I'm going to owl Ludo and see if he can get us some Firewhisky to take. I'd ask Dad but he'd send me with wine, and who wants to drink wine at a party? Ridiculous.
Take care, Pete, and say hello to Pat for me. Look out for Ignotus on Christmas day. I know your mum will make you get up early, so I'm owling you first.
Cheers,
James.'
He could go with James to the party! Damn the rest of the letter. Peter didn't care about James' Aunt Whoever. Now he just needed to convince his parents to let him stay at James' for New Year's (never in a million years would they let him go to a party without speaking to the host's parents beforehand, which Peter did not want). He spent the next hour rehearsing conversations, thinking out every possible argument, and what he could counter it with. In his head, he was a master of debate, and a champion of wit. His quick remarks were only interrupted by Pepper's return. He was midway through explaining to an imaginary version of his mother just why socialising was such an important part of growing up when the real version of his mother rapped at the door.
"Peter! Peter, I want you dressed and downstairs in twenty minutes! Oh, we're running late already!"
"Mum, I'm in the middle of something!"
"Well, finish up and hurry!" Peter didn't see why they needed to go to the Ministry to collect Patricia anyways. She'd come in and out of the country a hundred times, and she was nearly thirty, for Merlin's sake. She knew how to use the floo. It made Peter feel very glum about his prospects of ever being able to go to a party without his parents talking to the host's parents about it. They'd probably have to talk to his wife's parents before he got married, just to make sure it was okay. No wonder Patricia had gone to Germany.
Peter changed into something respectable and went downstairs, but it wasn't good enough. His mum made him stand in front of the mirror and combed his hair for him.
"I've already done it!" he protested, but that didn't matter.
"Mind your manners," the mirror said. Peter glared. His mother rubbed his jaw, and he jerked away.
"Let me see. It sounds like something's swollen," she said.
"It's fine, Mum."
"We could duck into St. Mungo's tomorrow, the wait shouldn't be too bad the day before Christmas -"
"It's alright!" Peter snapped.
"Peter," Dad admonished.
"Sorry, Mum."
"Oh, come on, we don't have time for this," she said. "We needed to leave ten minutes ago." Peter prodded the leaf with his tongue. It was melting into a green goop, according to his examination that morning while brushing his teeth.
Dad stepped into the floo first, and then Peter stumbled in. He whacked his funny bone as he spun through the network.
"Fuck," he said, just as he stepped into the Ministry.
"Peter Philip!" his father said. "Don't you let your mother hear you talking like that."
"I hit my funny bone!" Peter explained, but his father wasn't listening. Mum came through, brushing herself off furiously, and the three of them checked in at the security desk.
Peter forgot to bring his wand.
"Well, he can't do magic anyways!" Mum said. The security wizard shook his head.
"He's over eleven, isn't he? He needs his wand to check in." Peter squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for his mother to murder him.
"Well, we'll be back shortly," Mum said.
"Alright," the security wizard said. "But, ma'am, you will have to check in again if you leave the premises." The line behind them was growing longer, presumably full of others waiting to greet their relatives.
"You're kidding," Mum said.
"Afraid not."
Peter had to run after his mother as she stormed towards the fireplaces. She handed him the floo powder with a scowl.
"I can't even trust you to go home and fetch your wand and come back," she said, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry," Peter said. As much as he didn't want to be there, he hadn't tried to fuck it up on purpose.
"We just need to go quickly," Mum said. She wiped her hand over her face. Her face was going all blotchy. "Oh, Merlin. Why?" She looked to the ceiling for an answer. Peter stared at the floor, guilt swirling inside of him. When prompted, he stepped into the fireplace. It took them maybe ten minutes to get home and back, given that the floo was growing busy. Everyone was finishing work. He hung his head low as they waited in the queue, and there were only three minutes to six by the time they got through security and headed up to the Department of Magical Transport's portkey terminal.
"They haven't come early?" Mum asked anxiously, craning her neck.
"No, fortunately. You'll be here when she gets here," Dad smiled. He wrapped his arm around her, rubbing her back. The other witches and wizards waiting were generally in family groups, though one wizard had a big sign and a bouquet of flowers.
A voice echoed through the terminal. "The portkey from Hannover, Germany, will arrive in approximately two minutes. Please refrain from using magic until told otherwise. We remind you to keep at least ten feet from the marked landing space at all times. The Department of Magical Transport thanks you for your co-operation."
"Wand away, Peter," Mum said. Peter pulled a face.
"Yeah, it is."
"I was just making sure."
"Yeah, but you didn't have to. I'm not stupid." She opened her mouth to reply, and then shut it. Peter's temper flared. Oh, that was rich. As if putting up a stupid fucking painting of cherubs with your kid's faces on it wasn't stupid enough, as if it wasn't ridiculous that they'd had the same portrait repainted several times because they had more kids and then Paul died and they painted him out of the corner like he'd never existed, because you just didn't talk about such things. As if naming all your kids with the same first letter wasn't stupid enough.
The world opened up in a swirl of magic. Dad flung his arm in front of Peter.
"Stand back!" he barked. Peter gave him a bewildered look. He had been standing back. He wasn't three. Sometimes, it felt like they still thought he was a baby, and Patricia only fresh out of Hogwarts.
His mother nearly hyperventilated as the portkey spun into existence, with maybe thirty people spinning around it.
"Is that her?" Mum asked desperately. "Or that one there? I should've asked what robes she was wearing! Did she miss it?" The spinning slowed, and they landed with a groan. Slowly, the first few wizards and witches got to their feet. None of them were Patricia. One of them was a beautiful blonde witch, who clapped her hands over her mouth. Peter followed her line of sight to the wizard with the sign and the bouquet. She cried out his name, and ran towards him, tears streaming down her pretty face. The wizard threw the sign and flowers down to hug her. He lifted her up and they twirled together. She sobbed into his shoulder. Peter couldn't imagine missing somebody that much. Or anybody missing him that much. James might make a sign, but only as a joke.
"Pat!" Mum shouted. Peter's head whipped around. Patricia was on her feet, dusting off her knees. Her robes were bright red, and her blonde hair cropped into a bob Peter knew at once his mother would loathe.
"Mum! Dad! Pete!" She didn't run to them. She strolled, actually, and shoved her hands in her pockets and then pulled them out. The closer she got, the more different she looked. The circles under her eyes were darker; there was the hint of a wrinkle between her eyebrows. "Hello, Mum. Thanks for coming." Mum squeezed her tightly, and kissed her cheek. Pat pulled out fairly quickly, and hugged Dad. Then she turned her attention to Pete. To his annoyance, she was the tallest in the family, and by a couple of inches, too. Peter was about the same height as his mother and a bit shorter than his father; Pat had long limbs and could just see over Dad's head. Peter huffed.
"Hello, little brother," Pat greeted him with a grin. She didn't go in for a hug. They hovered around each other.
"Hi," Peter said, suddenly awkward. Pat searched his face, and then patted him on the shoulder. It felt kind of like saying hello to one of Mum's friends. They'd never really lived together. Peter had been born in the summer between her second and third year, and she'd left home the summer after she graduated – the day after his fifth birthday, in fact.
"Right," Pat said. "My luggage should be coming through over there." She pointed across the terminal. "I'll get that, and then we can head. If that's cool?"
"I'll come help, you've had a long trip," Dad said.
"Are you feeling alright?" Mum asked. Pat laughed.
"It wasn't that long. Maybe ten minutes, all up. I'm used to it, though. Don't get like that anymore." She nudged her shoulder in the direction of a wizard who was being sick into a bucket. He could barely vanish the mess before another round of vomit came up.
"Eugh," Peter said.
"Let's go," Pat said, and she headed towards the growing pile of trunks. Dad followed. Mum poked Peter's back.
"Go help your sister!" she instructed.
"She doesn't need me," he said, but he went after them anyways. Sure enough, Pat carried her own bag, and Peter and Dad ended up just walking with her, feeling rather useless.
Mum scowled upon their return. "Why are you making Pat carry her own bag? She's come all the way from Germany, and you're not lifting a finger, Peter!" Peter was indignant.
"I'm happy to carry it, Mum, Pete offered," Pat cut in with a blatant lie. Dad stayed silent.
"Fine. Let's go, then. I need to get cooking," Mum said.
Peter and Mum flooed home, while Dad and Pat apparated together, given the size of her trunk. Peter and Mum arrived in the living room to find the other pair on the couches, pale and dizzy.
"It's a nightmare, dragging stuff along when you apparate," Pat informed him. "Got any Pepperup?"
"In the bathroom cupboard! Peter, go get it!" Mum shouted, already in the kitchen. Peter rolled his eyes and stormed off. Since when had he been a house-elf? It was bad enough to make him almost miss school. He definitely missed being at Hogwarts outside of class time, but he could feel himself starting to moon over the easier classes. He shuddered.
He rummaged through the cupboard, and while he found one vial of Pepperup easily, the other took a fair bit of looking. His mother yelled something out. He slammed the cupboard doors shut, grumbling, and went back into the living room.
"Thanks," Pat said, raising her vial in a mock-toast.
"Thank you," Dad said, uncorking the vial. Peter collapsed into the free armchair. He was nearly ready for bed. Of course, that wasn't up to him; their schedule for Pat's visit was so tightly packed that there was barely room for a bathroom break.
Mum called him into the kitchen to take out tea, and then he had to slice up vegetables, because the spellwork was rather finicky and she needed to focus on getting the pot to boil, and then he had to supervise the boiling pot while she did something else. Pat's laughter rung through the house, and he glared at the pot.
"Don't glare, Peter. It always tastes worse if it's made with an unhappy attitude," Mum said.
"Then don't make me do it," he retorted. She ignored him.
Peter didn't notice any different in taste when it came time to eat. Dinner was an event, with several courses, and dessert that wasn't just helping oneself to the biscuit tin. He'd had to set the table, and, if he did say so himself, he'd done a good job. Even Mum could only rouse on him for not setting the spoons out in the right order. Each of them had a festive green napkin (adorned with a prancing reindeer) across their lap, and red candles spilled golden light over their roast vegetables and chicken. Peter forgave Pat for all the trouble she'd caused by coming home when she excused herself to the bathroom and returned with a large bottle of brandy.
"A souvenir," she said. Without asking, she filled all of their glasses, and Mum pursed her lips.
"Peter's only fifteen, you know. He only turned fifteen in August."
"I know," Pat said. "He's probably drinking anyways and just not telling you about it. That's what I did. Wouldn't you rather he did it in the house?" Peter's eyes widened. Mother coughed furiously, and Dad dropped his fork. Pat shrugged. "Drink up, Pete." Peter looked wildly between his parents.
"It's a gift from your sister," Dad said stiffly. "You can have a glass. It is Christmas."
"Not for another two days," Mum countered. She rubbed her temple. "One glass, Peter."
Patricia winked at him. Peter slowly, cautiously, had his first sip of alcohol in front of his parents.
"It's very nice," he said, trying to talk like a refined, mature adult at a dinner party. "Thank you, Patricia."
"A toast," she proposed, raising her glass. "To homecoming."
And all the Pettigrews said, "To homecoming."
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been reading this! Thank you for your support. This is just a quick little note - if you use AO3, this story is up on AO3 under the same title (and my username is the same), and the formatting is a little better there (ffnet frustrates me with its formatting, sorry). Just thought I'd let y'all know! 333