Chapter Two: Things Left Unsaid
"To be fair, I didn't go around trying to split others in half."
Music Inspiration: Butterflies by MAX
It seemed to matter very little that the calendar had not yet marked the end of summer, a chilly mist spilled and spread and poured itself over an empty, cobbled road that had no true beginning and that led to nowhere other than the front of an impressive pair wrought-iron gates that shot upwards and disappeared into the early morning sky.
From out of the mist, the troubled tires of an old, beaten Volkswagen halted in front of said gates. Headlights still on, a young man evacuated the driver's seat. His sunburnt nose had started to peel and sand spilled from his sandals with every step he took. Wrapping his hands around the bars of the iron-gates, he yanked hard.
Beyond the gates, there was nothing but thick, gray fog and countless oversized oak trees, a curiosity given that they were not native to the area, but the young man hardly had time to consider that fact. He had spent the night at the beach, drinking with some old classmates of his, but he had a job interview that morning at ten, and it was already well past eight. He had no idea how he had managed his way into the road he was currently on, though he suspected the late night beers were partially to blame. Either way, he had been attempting to find his way back home for the last hour now, always circling back to this exact spot.
"Oi!" He hollered into the darkness beyond. "Anyone there?!"
He had not really expected a response. As far as he could see, there was no real purpose to the gates, as there were no indications of civilization past it. But then, out of nowhere, he heard a faint 'pop' sound and a voice behind him asked, "Lost?"
The young man turned startled and came face to face with a tall, slim black cloaked figure. He thought his attire to be odd but the stranger was obviously a teeanger, and the young man was close enough to his teenage years to remember some questionable outfit choices of his own. "Oh hello," said the young man, the surprise still beating in his chest. "Uh, yes. I'm afraid I must have taken a wrong turn and my cell service is shite."
The teenager did not respond. His eyes were turquoise and they looked down at him with careful apathy, as if simultaneously bored and suspicious of him. The young man went on, "If you could point me in the right direction, I'd be grateful. Name's Damian, by the way."
The teenager had handsome features but none of them were welcoming. Then he muttered something just as the wind picked up and Damian had to lean forward to try and catch his words. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't speak-" But what had it been? Spanish, perhaps? Or maybe Italian? "Wait, was that Latin? Blimey, I don't think I've heard anyone ever speak-"
Damian stopped right in the middle of his sentence. He had just remembered exactly how to find his way back home and he hurried on to his car, determined to get on his way before the directions disappeared from his memory.
Such was his rush that he had not made time to notice a second figure joining the teenage boy. This one was middle aged but dressed just as curiously; an intricate gold badge was pinned to a dark cloak that swept past his feet. Both the middle aged man and the teeanger stared after the car long after it was gone, as if wanting to reassure themselves that it would not turn back around, and then the middle aged man patted the teenager on his shoulder. His face looked weary and tired, strands of gray streaked his otherwise jetblack hair, and a pair of black-framed glasses fell on his thin nose, but when he spoke to the boy, there was nothing but warmth.
"Xander," he said. "I hear congratulations are in order. Old Twycross could not go on enough about you."
Xander's expression had changed to one of soft concern. "Another all nighter at the Ministry, Harry?"
Harry shrugged. He waved the wand he had been holding and the wrought-iron gates spread open for them. "I don't like leaving things unfinished." He motioned towards the now empty dirt road behind them. "Was that a muggle I saw leaving? How did you get him to go? You didn't go into his mind, did you?"
"Sweet Slytherin, just because I asked to learn legilimency that one time-" Xander started, not necessarily annoyed, he could never be annoyed by Harry, but rather heavily disappointed by the fact that Harry should think he had not listened to his advice on the subject, but Harry was already interrupting saying with lighthearted warmness, "I was only asking, Xander. I was only asking. Don't get all teenager with me. It's my job to think of all the sorts of troubles my sons might get themselves into, ideally before they're too far deep into them."
Xander consented that this might be true, especially given into consideration the sort of trouble Harry's three biological children were often capable of managing. "I only used a recollection charm so he'd be able to restep the turns he took to reach us. We really ought to do something about this. That was the third muggle this month. The disillusionment charms on the road need to be reinforced."
"Right you are," said Harry. "I've been meaning to get around to that."
"I can do it," Xander offered in a way he hoped didn't sound too overly excited. He had casted many security charms, both as class assignments and as leisure practice, but never on something as large as the Manor. This would be an interesting challenge, but he felt confident in his abilities to take on the task.
Harry gave him a side glance, a playfulness to his gaze. "I'm Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Do you really think you could do a better job of it than me?"
Xander grinned back. "I respect you too much to answer that."
Harry hollered out a laugh. "If I don't watch you closely, you'll grow more arrogant than James… The Manor is yours though. Go ahead and play around with the protective charms. Only defensive work, nothing that could get anyone hurt..."
The trees shaded them entirely. It was hard to see the Manor from here but Xander knew that a few more steps in that direction would reveal the rose garden Ginny had planted, the one Sosie took care of now, and then the green-vine covered walls of the Manor would appear. "I heard about the attack at Connerton." He had been meaning to bring it up since the day before yesterday but Harry had hardly been home, and Xander wanted to make sure it was addressed before he was hurried back to the Ministry yet again. "Caroline Suffles, a classmate of mine, has an aunt that works at St. Mungo's and received the injured… Anyways, I'm terribly sorry about it all, Harry. I know you lost an Auror."
Harry's face went dark. "It was a great loss indeed. She left a little girl behind."
Xander bowed his head respectfully before asking, "Death Eaters?"
Harry seemed to think this over and then finally admitted, "No, it doesn't appear so."
Xander looked down at his feet. He desperately wanted to ask, to know if his suspicions were true, but 'Clarifiers' was a word the two of them had only discussed once, long ago, shortly after his thirteenth birthday, and though Ginny had openly admitted that they were a group of purists responsible for his mother's death, Harry had been quick to suggest that the three of them tuck that conversation away until Xander was old enough to hear the rest of it.
Xander had, as he always did, complied with his request. But he was seventeen now, and he had been waiting for Harry to come along with the promised conversation, the truth of the events that led to his mother's death. Harry, however, had so far been silent, and Xander hadn't been sure how to bring about the subject.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, making a bigger mess of it than it already was. He seemed to have read Xander's mind because he offered quietly, "We don't know who was behind it. I rather you didn't worry yourself about that."
Xander didn't find the answer fair, but Harry was tired. He had obviously had a difficult last few days, and the last thing Xander wanted to be was another nuisance in his life, so he simply nodded and went on to add, "It wasn't in the papers."
"Fabian Ballard just became majority owner of the Daily Prophet. He's replaced their editor with a friend of his, and together they've been very particular about what sort of stories make it to dinner tables."
"I didn't think Fabian Ballard would be interested in journalism," said Xander, thinking of the business tycoon who was also the father of one of his house-mates.
"Perhaps not journalism, so much as public opinion… I had hoped the one good thing from that would be that you and Lily would be spared any unneeded stress. Does she know?"
"I doubt it," said Xander. "She and Posey Bell were both spotted wearing the same dress last week and Witch and Famous voted in Bell's favor on their "Which Witch Worked" column. So that, as you can imagine, has kept her mind occupied enough."
Harry nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Thank God for Posey Bell then. Hermione and Ron are trying to keep Hugo preoccupied as well. The three of you will be going back to Hogwarts tomorrow, and we don't want you to carry the weight of Connerton along."
Xander heard the silent request and gave a heavy sigh. He did not like to keep things from Hugo, but Harry was asking and there was nothing he had ever been able to deny Harry. "If he doesn't ask, I won't say," he said finally, "but I won't lie to Hugo, Harry. I can't."
"I could not have asked for a more fair agreement," said Harry and pushed the door in, letting Xander into the pleasant warmness of the home he had given him for the past ten years.
[][]
The Potter Manor was uncharacteristically quiet as the two of them finally made their way inside.
It was as splendid a home as any of its kind, though it had spent quite a good number of years without a Potter heading it. After the death of Fleamont Potter, grandfather of Harry, the property had been set to be inherited by the son, James Potter, but he, having only recently graduated from Hogwarts, had much preferred to make home at another family property, a sensibly sized house in the quiet town of Godric's Hollow. Thus, the Potter Manor had gone inhibited and unowned for more than two decades.
The story went that Harry had found it to be unnecessarily ostentatious and large, but his wife, Ginny Potter, had insisted that they need something, anything, to bring him closer to his roots, to the grandparents he had never known, and so Harry, who had never been one to say no to his wife and who might have secretly agreed felt a pull to the home his father had grown up in, had agreed to pay all legal fees relating to the accepting of the inheritance and turned the old ruin into a home once again.
In any case, this house, the only one Xander had ever known, or at least the only one he could remember, was his favorite place in the entire world. Hogwarts had its charm, of course, but the walls of the Potter Manor held his most treasured memories. He loved how cozy it felt despite its size, the way there were enough bedrooms to host whatever number Weasleys came by to pay them a visit, how the smell of salt water managed to reach them, and that the sea was visible from his bedroom window. He loved, most of all, the concave library that hid behind the circular wooden door underneath the grand staircase.
Its book collection was lacking, to put it mildly. The late Mr. Potter had seemed to have felt no need to purchase books that spoke about anything other than entrepreneurial successes and the current Mr. Potter felt no interest in books whatsoever. Whatever book of substance had been added had been purchased by either Xander himself or gifted from Hermione Granger-Weasley, but neither of them had had enough time to make a decent library out of it. Still, it had a spectacular fireplace and a fine collection of cream colored sofas and oversized armchairs.
It was here that Xander went when Harry left to take a quick shower before heading back to work. He had expected to find himself alone in the room, none of the gaslights had been turned on, but the early morning sun was starting to pour through the window, casting light on a solitary figure sitting on the armchair closest to the fireplace, her legs neatly tucked underneath herself, and her emerald green eyes lost in thought.
His breath caught.
It was the surprise of seeing her that did it.
Long red hair billowed past her shoulders and down her waist, like a waterfall of fire, and an oversized green velvet bow sat neatly on the back of her head. She was nicely dressed - Lily Luna Potter was always nicely dressed - in a green and white polk-a-dot patterned summer dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves. It was summer and even in the poor light, Xander could spot the constellation of freckles that constant quidditch playing in the sun brought along. They would be gone in the winter, he knew. It was one of the many curious qualities of her.
Xander let out the breath he had been holding, the surprise wearing off, and he grinned mischievously. He took off the black cloak he had been wearing over his black t-shirt and trousers and then, pretending to be absorbed in his mission to select a worthwhile book, casually threw it over his shoulder, hearing the muted landing as it fell on her.
"Oi!" screamed Lily, jumping out of her seat and swaying away the robe that hand landed on her head, disheveling her perfectly arranged her.
"Oops, I didn't see you there," said Xander, turning to her with a laugh, but Lily's wand was already out, and he barely had enough time to pull a book and use it as cover before a bright purple spark cast out and hit the book, splitting it in two. "That," he said, eyeing the two pieces with raised, amused eyebrows, "could have been my face."
"It will be next time." She sat back down, her arms folded into each other. "Go away. I was here first."
"You shouldn't be casting magic. You're not of age yet."
The no-magic-before-seventeen had been a soft rule at the Potter's but Xander had loved reminding her of it ever since he had turned seventeen the month prior.
"Being underage never stopped you."
"To be fair, I didn't go around trying to split others in half."
"To be fair," said Lily without missing a beat, "you didn't have to deal with you."
Xander did not answer. His attention was back to the collection of books on the wall shelves. There was nothing there of interest. He had been hoping to find a good historical account of the first Wizarding War, something he might have missed in his previous visits here, but he had known all along his chances had been slim.
He flicked his wand, calling to the unfinished book he had left in his room that morning then plopped himself down on the sofa across from Lily, allowing himself to study her face for a brief moment.
"What's gotten into you? You look like you just ate a toad-flavored jelly bean."
"And you," said Lily, clearly insulted by the initiation that she looked anything less than perfect, "look like the toad that flavored the jelly bean."
A large, hardcover, navy blue textbook shot into the room and right into Xander's outstretched hand and Xander shifted his attention from Lily to the last page he had bookmarked. It was an autobiography on Gellert Grindelwald. He had picked it up only yesterday at The National Wizarding Library in London, though not first without receiving an odd look from the librarian that had stamped it out for him.
Connerton's tragic fate had kept him awake the night before that, distressing him to a degree he could not begin to explain. Caroline had only been able to share what she had heard from second-hand sources: the innocent muggle town had been attacked for no apparent reason by black-hooded figures whose identity had still not been verified. There had been numerous deaths, including the Auror who had been first to arrive at the scene, a woman named Claudia Creevey.
Then Xander's mind had taken him to Gellert Grindelwald. At first there seemed no logical reason for it. Most of Grindelwald's followers had become Death Eaters and most Death Eaters were either dead or in Azkaban. And then, right as he was about to slip into sleep, he had remembered:
Connerton had not always been Connerton.
He had spent most of his day yesterday trying to find confirmation of his suspicion, but it wasn't until now, sitting across from Lily, her pretty chin raised in disapproval of him, that he found what he had been searching for:
Yaxley Sr. was the first to grant Grindelwald shelter after the Ministry officially marked him as an enemy of the public. Yaxley allowed Grindelwald usage of one of the many cottages surrounding his Manor (36). It is said that while Grindelwald only spent six months in this place, he achieved a great many-
Xander abandoned the sentence halfway to find the footnote at the end of the page.
36: Most of the estate having once belonged to the Yaxleys has been divided and sold off in separate parts. The particular area where Grindelwald made his home was gifted to the local authorities as atonement for the hate crimes to muggles in nearby areas during the first and second Wizarding War and is present day Connerton, a town today known for its spendiful-
The sound of Lily's disgruntled sighs interrupted Xander's reading. Her eyebrows were buried in that way they sometimes took when a caprice of her wasn't immediately satisfied. He did not immediately raise his eyes from his books. It was odd, now that he thought of it, that she had not gone to Hogsmeade with the rest of the family. Victoire Weasley and Teddy Lupin were getting married and they had invited all of the wedding party, of which Lily and Xander both were a part of, to pick out groomsmen and bridesmaids gowns.
It was not like Lily to miss out on moments with her cousins. Now that most of them were out of Hogwarts, she hardly saw them. She hasn't even seen Hugo all summer, Xander realized suddenly, and Hugo's her favorite of them all..
"Merlin," he snapped, the answer hitting him out of nowhere with sudden violence, "could you stop huffing and puffing so damn loudly?" Lily scowled before pulling her knees towards her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She was not used to having her feelings so easily dismissed, and Xander couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. He put his book down. "You can't avoid them forever, you know."
She tucked her tongue impatiently. "What are you-?"
"Scorpius and Rosie."
Lily's eyes widened and Xander gave her an impatient sort of look. For years now, Lily had harbored a secret crush on Scorpius Malfoy, Albus' best friend and a boy as idealist as Lily was imprudent. Not that anyone could have ever guessed, of course.
Regardless of her feelings for him, or perhaps because of them, Lily had always treated Scorpius cooly, holding him at a distance, and making a big show of parading her popular boyfriend, Andrew Rogers, in front of anyone who cared to keep up with her private affairs, which was, unfortunately, everyone at Hogwarts except for Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius was, and had always been, irrevocably in love with Rose Weasley.
At the end of their last school year, Rosie had finally agreed to date Scorpius, and Lily had coincidentally found herself with an endless summer itinerary that took her far away from the Potter Manor and far away from the Weasleys. She spent the first few weeks of summer holidaying in France with her best friend, Nia Siles, and as soon as that had ended, she had packed her trunks once again and set off to a week-long visit to her godmother, Luna Scamander.
But she had run out of places to hide and had been home since last week.
"I don't know what you're-"
Xander ignored her and continued with some unwarranted advice: "You still have that boyfriend of yours, don't you? Go have yourself a little fun with him. Merlin knows that if that weeping faucet can't at least offer you a small ounce of distraction then he's gone vacant of any good use you might have had of him."
Lily glared. For the briefest of moments, Xander wondered if he would once again have to utilize the book he was holding as a shield, but then her face relaxed, and he was certain that she was going to, as she usually did, avoid the subject entirely. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
She was a terrible liar but Xander didn't bother to press. In truth, neither Lily's infatuation with Scorpius nor her relationship with Andrew Rogers were topics he particularly cared to spend much time dissecting. She raised her head slightly, a new question on her mind. "Why aren't you at Hogsmeade today?"
He went back to his book. "I had my apparition test."
This piqued her interest. "I had no idea."
Lily hardly ever had any idea as to anything that might be occurring in Xander's life. She found his whole existence dull at best and an annoyance at worst. But he did not bother to point this out. "Hmm," was his entire response.
"You passed?"
"Of course."
"How far did you go?"
"Istanbul."
"You're lying," said Lily, but she sounded more impressed than disbelieving, and Xander bathed in the tucked away praise. "The norm is always within the country. Hannah Archer was allowed all the way to France but she's always been exceptional. They would never allow someone to go as far as Turkey, not on their licensing exam."
"It took a lot of convincing," said Xander with a small shrug. He would have liked to be allowed to travel to Malaysia. He had practiced and been successful but there was no way of admitting that without also admitting he had been practicing illegally and no amount of charm was able to convince his tester to sign off on the attempt. Still, Istanbul had managed him a record and knowing that his name would forever be registered as the wizard to have traveled the furthest on his apparition test gave him some satisfaction.
"What are you reading anyways?" asked Lily, craning her neck slightly.
"Merlin, Lily, you ask far too many questions."
"Well," said Lily, a smirk on her face, "if you can't offer me the least amount of distraction, then I'm afraid I have lost any good use of you."
Xander laughed. He could not help it. This was probably the longest conversation he had had with Lily in a long time. Sometimes it was easy to forget how witty she could be, how quick.
He still remembered the first time they had met. He had been fist deep in a bowl of wet oats, his hunger being the only thing stronger than his confusion on that first morning. She had walked into the kitchen, still in her pajamas, quaffle patterned, of course, though at the time Xander had no idea what those brown spheres had meant. One might have expected her to be startled by the strange boy sitting at her kitchen table, but Lily had only tilted her head with curiosity. "Where did you come from?" she had asked.
It had been the first time he realized he had no answer for that.
Harry and Ginny had been careful to explain that Xander would now be a part of their family, and Lily had not asked any more questions. The two children had quickly become inseparable. Xander had immediately loved her vibrant spirit, her ability to rise to any challenges that could come her way. It hadn't been until years later that the two had grown distant from each other, and then outright hostile.
Some days, like this morning, Xander missed that friendship. He missed her playfulness, the way the world was never too big for her to hold.
More often than not, however, he knew it best to keep her at a distance.
Lily's face changed as Xander showed her the cover of his book. "You shouldn't be reading that. He was a dark wizard."
Xander shrugged. "He was fascinating."
"He was a criminal."
"He was a mastermind."
"He murdered hundreds."
"Not quite so many at all."
"Oh what was the reasonable number of deaths Grindelwald caused?"
"Fine then. What sort of readings would you recommend? What dimwitted gossip are you reading about in Teen Witch? Do you even read the articles or do you just browse through the pictures?"
Xander kept his facial expressions neutral but he was waiting for her anger to finally explode. It wasn't like him to try and rile people up. More times than not, he was trying to please everyone around them. But when it came to Lily, things were different. He looked forward to watching her anger burst the way a pyromaniac might have enjoyed lightening a match on an empty building.
"Rot in hell," Lily snapped, jumping to her feet and crossing the room towards the foyer. She paused suddenly, one foot in the library, and the other out of it, and then twisted herself delicately towards him. "I saw you do magic without your wand the other day."
Xander's jaw tightened. He had always been able to do magic without his wand. His wand made it easier, of course, but every now and then, he'd forget about it all together, and manage simple spells and charms without it.
Harry and Ginny had asked him once, long ago to keep his abilities discreet. They had made sure to reassure him that there was nothing wrong with him while still stressing the importance of keeping his true self hidden. But Xander had understood: there was no need to bring any extra attention to one of the many things he could not explain about himself.
Lily cocked her chin slightly. It was hard to tell whether she was genuinely curious or pleased she had found a nerve to hit, and Xander suspected quite a bit of both. "I remember you'd do it quite often when we were little. I had always thought it was just those bursts of uncontrolled magic all wizarding children go through, but it's more than that, isn't it? You don't need your wand at all, do you?"
Xander snapped his book shut. "I don't see the fascination," he snapped. "I see you doing magic without a brain every day, and yet you don't see me going on about it, poking my nose into things that are none of my business."
"I hate you!" Lily screamed, but Xander passed right by her, ignoring the number of colorful adjectives she was shouting his way. For a moment, he was certain another hex would be thrown his way, but when he finally walked out of the sitting room, Lily had stopped cursing.
Only the genuine hurt that had spread across her face followed him, and that stung more than if she had split him in two.
()()
After her disagreement with Xander, Lily returned to the confinement of her room. Tonight, her brothers and Teddy would be coming over for the now traditional night-before-Hogwarts dinner but, at the moment, Lily wanted only to bask in her own glumness.
This summer had proven one long orderly string of disillusionment where nothing had gone right and everything had left her feeling lonely. First, there had been Scorpius and Rosie. Then Albus had decided to follow in James' footsteps and move out of the Manor, leaving her alone with Xander and her father, neither of which counted as good company; the latter was always at work and the former had absolutely no interest in her.
Those few weeks in France with Nia could have been fun, but Lily had been in too foul a mood about Scorpius, and she had spent most of her days arguing with Nia for no good reason at all.
The Scamanders had been a pleasant distraction but it had only been a few days before Luna and her husband had been called away to Uruguay on a sudden but urgent work project.
There were other options, other friends who would have been all too willing to keep her company for a day out or even a couple of weeks. Lily was, after all, one of the most popular girls at Hogwarts. But their letters laid spread about on Lily's bed, all opened and answered.
Hannah Archer, a fellow Gryffindor in her year and one of her best friends, had written:
Dear Lily,
I miss you terribly. Do you think we could meet for lunch sometime? Maybe this week? Let me know. I have some happy news to share.
All my love,
Hannah Archer
Lily had meant to write back. She had meant to make time for her. Hannah deserved all the time in the world. She was quite easily one of the kindest people Lily knew and her "happy news" deserved to be celebrated, but she was almost completely certain that it pertained to the fact that she had been named Head Girl, and though this came as no surprise, Lily could not help but feel envious as this would solidify the fact that she would be the first Weasley in decades long to not have at least one leadership position during her seventh year. Even Louis Weasley had been Quidditch Captain his last year of Hogwarts, and he had spent most of his school days smoking gillyweed in the greenhouses.
Hannah Archer had not been the only one to write. Hugo Weasley, Lily's cousin and fellow seventh year Gryffindor, had penned her several letters. One of which's top half peaked out of scarlet jumper that had been thrown over her bed:
Dear Lily,
We are all going to the Burrow tomorrow evening. Please say you're coming along as well. If it helps, I can hex Scorpius with blistering boils so he has no choice but to stay home. It isn't fair that you should ignore the rest of just just because he and Rosie are -
But Lily had ignored his letters too. Hugo could hardly understand what Scorpius had meant to her - or how much it hurt to see that Rosie, perfect Rosie, with her impeccable grades, and her fresh-faced look, and sickly sweet generosity, should, once again, win at everything.
Not that Rosie knew this had been a game. Had she had an inkling of an idea, Lily was certain she would have quickly turned down Scorpius in favor of sparing her younger cousin's feelings. But that wasn't the point. The point was that Lily had wanted Scorpius and Scorpius had not wanted her, and the indignation stung worse than she could have possibly imagined.
Hugo had written several times again. Most times he had not even tried bothering convincing her to meet anymore, but rather simply had written to tell her he was thinking of her and hoped she was doing well enough.
But no one had written more about her more owls than her boyfriend, Andrew Rogers. They were all tucked in odd places of her room, folded into forgotten school books, tossed into her trash cans, squeezed into drawers, some had even somehow managed to find their way underneath her bed. In any case, most of them had sounded like unoriginal variations of each other.
My Dearest Lily,
I miss you so much. I really do regret our last argument. I swear I'll never again make a scene like that again. I shouldn't have been so insecure. It's only that Ballard has always fancied you and seeing you dancing with him made me feel like shit. I am not making excuses though. I promise never to do anything like that again. Let me take you to dinner this week. We can try-
Lily had hardly bothered reading the ending of that letter. She had been angry when Andrew had challenged Edward Ballard to a duel in front of all their friends, but now she only felt guilty. In truth, she had been flirting with Edward, the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team. He was only just a friend, but he was funnier than Andrew, more confident, and though Lily had zero romantic interest in him, it was always incredibly flattering to have his attention.
Lils, read yet another one of Andrew's letters.
I ran into Nia Siles at Diagon Alley. She says you've been home for ages now. If you've been getting my owls, you should be writing back. It's bloody immature to ignore me like this. I know last year was rocky but we both made mistakes and we both have to work on this now. This is the last owl I send you. If you're at all interested in having a grown up conversation about this, let me know.
Love,
Andrew
But that had not been the last letter. Even when he sounded his most indignant, Lily had known the next day would bring yet another owl. Momentarily, Lily was holding on to the very last letter he had written.
My darling Lily,
I can't even begin to tell you how much I have missed you. Mum has been asking about you all summer. She's so used to seeing you come along for lunch at least once over the holidays.
I have never been happier to see summer end. I will see you tomorrow at King's Cross, and we'll put all of this behind us. I am going to show you I can be everything you wish me to be.
Love,
Andrew
This, she knew, would be the last letter she would receive. Tomorrow, they would both head back to Hogwarts, and Lily would finally be forced to face him.
She should have written to him. She realized that. Many times she had come close. She had pulled out a parchment and wetted her quill, but the moment it came time to stroke the two together, words had failed her. She had imagined Andrew at his family home, playing football with all those muggle cousins of his, and then Lily's letter arriving, ruining all of his fun. He would cry, she was sure of it. Andrew always cried. It seemed cruel to deliver such a blow in such an impersonal manner.
There was still the option of writing him something lighthearted and brief, enough to hold him off until she could break up with him in person, but the selfish truth was that Lily had been hoping Andrew would have grown angry enough to be the one to end things so that Lily could have been spared the guilt that would accompany the end of that relationship.
But that had never happened, and now Lily sat miserably on the eve of her last year at Hogwarts, contemplating on how even that loosely-strung plan had failed to go right this summer.