November 11th, 1982: Lily Potter

Well, it's not like she and Sirius didn't realize that their plan was going to be polarizing. In fact, she's almost surprised that anybody agrees with them at all—but Sturgis, Kingsley, and Frank, at least, are on their side. McGonagall, Moody, Mundungus, Andromeda, and the Weasleys have been the loudest voices of dissent, with Remus remaining suspiciously quiet.

Everybody's shouting over each other, so Lily can only really hear what the people closest to her at the table—Andromeda, Molly, and Sirius—are saying. "I can't believe you're even considering this," declares Andromeda in disgust. "I can't believe this is even up for discussion. I thought we were agreed that the Ministry has been wrong to authorize the use of Unforgivable Curses against Death Eaters. Isn't that where your whole half-cocked idea to become vigilantes came from in the first place, back when you were still at Hogwarts? Because you thought the Ministry was going too far, and you thought you could intervene?"

"Times are different now," says Lily as calmly as she can, but it certainly doesn't sound very calm coming out of her mouth, given that she's having to raise her voice quite a bit just to be heard. "We can't just round people up and hand them to the Ministry. The Ministry, for all intents and purposes, are the Death Eaters, and—"

"We're mothers," scowls Molly. "You have Harry to worry about, and Arthur and I have seven children! What are we supposed to tell them if their parents get themselves killed in combat? I thought you were in favor of keeping out of danger for Harry's benefit—"

"Don't you throw Harry in her face like that," snaps Sirius. "Do you think it was easy for her to kill Voldemort after finding out he'd killed her husband? Do you think any of us feels good about this? We don't feel good, Molly, but we're out of options! We can't just sit on our arses and watch the world burn around us. We have to do something, and the only thing we can do at this point is—"

"Become murderers?" Andromeda protests. "I thought that disgusted you about the Death Eaters, Sirius. After all the posturing you've done about how evil our family is—"

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare turn this around on me. We are proposing nothing more than doing what needs to be done—"

Lily groans and buries her face in her hands for a second. At the far end of the table, the Aurors seem to be locked in a heated argument, with Moody and Alice decrying the idea of using lethal force while Kingsley and Frank are insisting that they haven't got a choice, now that the Order has no legal avenues left in which to pursue justice. Meanwhile, she can hear Mundungus Fletcher arguing loudly with, of all people, Severus, who keeps accusing Dung of wanting to save his own skin and resenting the fact that his involvement in the Order got him displaced from his cushy criminal activity. Severus isn't wrong, but Lily still wishes that it weren't he who was speaking out in her defense.

And then—Lily feels a small hand tug on her own larger one. "Mummy?"

"Harry, honey, you shouldn't be in here while the grownups are talking. Go back and play with Kreacher, okay?"

"Fighting," says Harry anxiously, his lip wobbling.

"I—" Lily casts a nervous look around the table; the people closest to her have fallen silent, but most of the room seems not to have noticed Harry's presence. "Come on, sweetie. Would you like Mummy to get you some milk?"

Harry nods shyly as Lily sidles out of her chair and leads him by the hand into the kitchen. Away from the din, with her son, she feels a little steadier on her feet—yet, at the same time, Harry's company renews her own horror at herself for the plan she and Sirius have concocted. Just months ago, Lily was trying to forbid James from doing anything—anything—that could jeopardize their family, and now…

Andromeda's right: what they're proposing is murder. But Lily doesn't see an alternative when the only people left in power are probably all on the Death Eaters' side, if not Death Eaters themselves.

When James died—when Lily lost the love of her life—something snapped inside her; she feels like all her reservations, her desire to be careful and pragmatic and safe and moral, died right along with her husband. How can killing the bad guys before they destroy the world be a bad thing? How can she just sit here on her hands with the original Order when Voldemort's people are going to keep going after everybody new the Order brings on board? They're not going to stop until all the Order's allies have been destroyed right alongside all the Muggle-borns and Muggles in the country—hell, maybe even the world—so why should Lily hold back? Why shouldn't she get some goddamn justice for what they did to James?

After she warms up some milk for Harry with her wand, he sits there at the tiny kitchen table drinking it with an apprehensive look on his face, like he's expecting Lily to start yelling at him any minute. He looks just like she'd imagine James looked at his age, only with eyes like her own, and at times like this, it makes it hard for Lily to look at him.

She stays there in the kitchen, her head in her hands, long after Harry finishes his milk and scurries off. In the dining room, the arguing is only getting louder. She almost doesn't notice when Sirius steps into the doorway and says in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "You should get back out there, Lily. You're missing all the fun."

And Lily could just—

She needs James. Do you hear her? Do you understand? She needs him. She loves him, and she misses him, and most importantly of all, James knew how to turn it off—to compartmentalize. He knew how to want to be there for his family and want to kill Voldemort at the same time without feeling like he was being torn into pieces trying to prioritize; he knew how to be a fiercely loyal friend, a goddamn humanitarian, and then turn around in the same breath and hex Severus just for existing, just because he got a charge out of it; and if he were here right now, he could teach her how to do it, but he's not. He's never coming back, and Lily can't take this life without him.

Would James hate her for this thing she and Sirius put on the table? Would he understand? He'd understood the need to kill Voldemort, after all; would he see it the way she sees it, or would what she's become horrify him as much as his treatment of Severus used to horrify her?

She needs James—but he's not here, and neither are half her friends. But—Sirius is. He's here, and he's not walking away, at least until the Death Eaters take him out like Lily is sure they're going to take all of them out in the end.

"Sirius, how are we supposed to do this?" Her voice sounds ragged and frayed.

"Kill Death Eaters?" he asks, his lips curling.

"Survive. Save the world. Save ourselves. Live without—everybody we've lost."

Sirius's face falls. "If I figure it out, you'll be the first person I tell."

xx

An hour later, they haven't solved anything. There's discord about how to decide—a few people think it's only fair for them to take a vote, but others are strong in their conviction that their opinions are the right ones and whether to go through with the plan shouldn't be decided democratically. If they do vote—it certainly seems like Lily and Sirius are in the minority for now, but Lily expects at least some people to come around the longer they're all stuck doing nothing in this house as more and more people out there die with nobody working on their behalf.

"You were very tight-lipped in there," she tells Remus several hours later when the three of them are all sprawled on top of the bed in Sirius's childhood bedroom, which Sirius and Remus have taken over. Harry should be fast asleep by now in his and Lily's room, which used to be Regulus's. "You think we've gone mad, don't you?"

"I don't think you're mad," says Remus quietly. "I think all of us are desperate, and desperation causes everyone to do mad things—but I don't think you're mad."

"But you don't agree."

"I… just keep imagining what Mary would have said if she could have been there. She would have been horrified that the option of assassinating people is even on the table. But then I think about Prongs, and…"

Sirius puts a tentative hand on Remus's back. "If he was in favor of killing Voldemort—to the point that he'd wanted for months to do it himself—it's not a stretch to think he'd have supported the idea of killing the people who've taken over in Voldemort's absence."

"Yeah, but everybody in that room was in favor of killing Voldemort, and that certainly doesn't mean everybody's in favor of killing more Death Eaters."

"But if we don't—" Like usual, Lily feels like she could tear out her hair in frustration. "If we don't do something, then nothing's ever going to change. We know the Ministry is blocking the Prophet from reporting what's really going on, and not a lot of people are going to take seriously anything that The Quibbler comes out with. The Venn diagram of the people in charge of the government and the people we would need to hand over to the government is a circle."

"What's a Venn diagram?" Sirius and Remus say at the same time.

She rolls her eyes. "Forget it. Muggle math stuff. My point is, the Ministry isn't going to deliver any justice because it's being run by the criminals now. If trusting the authorities isn't going to get us anywhere, the only thing we can do is take down the authorities."

"I know, Lily, but murder?"

"Who would you rather be dead right now: Malfoy or Em and Mary?" Sirius points out. "Because those are the choices we're going to be looking at here. Who would the world be better off with being dead: somebody like Bellatrix or somebody like Vector, now that she's helping us?"

"This isn't the only way," insists Remus. "We can find ways to orchestrate removing them from power. We can—"

"Like how? Malfoy has spent months positioning Death Eater operatives in key positions in the Ministry. Either the public stays blind to it and they don't get taken out of power, or—there's revolution. And revolution isn't going to happen unless we make it happen."

Remus protests, "But even if we start taking Death Eaters out—they outnumber us, badly. Who's to say they're not just going to keep finding replacements to put in for each other? We can't kill every Death Eater. We don't even know who all is involved. The only identities we have are the ones we've been able to piece together and the ones Snape's given us, and that information isn't current."

"I know," says Lily. "I know, but Rem, we have to start somewhere. The longer we sit back here and do nothing, the more people are going to die, and…"

"And depending on what their long-term plan is," Sirius finishes heavily, "things could get a lot worse soon than just torture and murder."

There's a long pause as Sirius and Lily both look at Remus, who's got his eyes closed and his eyebrows screwed up in worry. "Remember when we were seventeen and could hardly wait to get out there and start fighting?" he says finally. "We didn't know how good we had it. If I had known that these would be the decisions we'd have to make…"

They fall silent for a while. Eventually, Sirius tucks into Remus's chest, leaving Lily feeling oddly lonely. It's not like she isn't happy for them that they've worked their stuff out—it's about time, in her opinion—but her husband is dead. Sirius is with Remus—Alice isn't with Frank anymore, but they're at least both here to support each other—and who does Lily have? Sure, she's got Harry, but she can't lean on Harry the way she used to lean on James. She's got to be strong for him, and Lily doesn't know if she has that in her—if she can ever be strong for anybody again.

"I'm going to go get some ice cream," she decides abruptly, sitting upright. "You two want any?"

"Count me in," says Sirius, while Remus just nods and grins.

It's late—after midnight. It's not like the whole house is sleeping, but most people have splintered off into the bedrooms for quiet conversation; the main floor is mostly deserted.

Mostly.

"Lily?"

"Don't talk to me," she tells Severus. Head up, eyes forward: the kitchen is only twenty paces away—nineteen—eighteen—

"We live in a house together. We're going to keep running into each other. You can't just pretend every time like I don't exist."

"Can't I? Watch me." Fourteen—thirteen—

"I can only say I'm sorry so many times before I—"

"Get tired of it?" Against her better judgment, she stops walking. "Give it up? Blame me for your moral failings? I mean, it's not like it would be the first time. You gave up in fifth year after, what, half a day of remorse? How long did it take you after we split up to go running off to join the Death Eaters?"

"That's not fair," seethes Severus. "That's not fair. I was respecting your wishes when I left you alone. If you hadn't given up on me—"

"You shouldn't need me to be in your life to care about the difference between right and wrong. Is that supposed to make me feel guilty, like I'm responsible for torture being your favorite thing in the world? You were damaged goods long before I left you."

His hand is hovering over his pocket, and Lily wonders whether he'd even notice if he got out his wand. For her part, Lily's already raised her own. "Lily—"

"My name is Potter," she says, but something goes wrong in the delivery: it's supposed to come out like a snarl, but she chokes on the words, and they sound more like a sob. "My name is Potter."

She hunches over, curling in on herself; her wand drops to the floor; she grabs her elbows in her hands and clings to them for dear life. Lily can't tear her eyes away from Severus. He's standing there like a dumbarse, his eyes wide even as his brows narrow, and Lily wants to scream at him to leave her alone, to crawl back into his cage where he can't keep reminding her of her failures to judge character—to save anybody, first Severus and now James—and can Lily ever save anybody? Her husband was a bully, and her best friend was a murderer, and maybe they avoided being those things for a time while she was with them, but—did Severus always have that in him even before Lily walked away? Did James still have the potential to be that person when she married him? He never expressed any regret for the way he used to treat Severus, after all, and even years later when James found out that Lily had left the confines of the Fidelius Charm to meet Severus about the Horcruxes—

Everything was so much cloudier when James was alive. She used to be able to allow herself to just drown in his calming presence and his love for her without acknowledging any of the rest of it—but now that he's gone, the rest has come rushing back into focus. Did she ever know James, or was he putting up a front to her? Is she attracted to bad people? Is she bad? Because she sat there at that table and argued that the Order should be murdering their opponents, and Lily—Lily—

Severus takes a step forward. When she doesn't protest, he takes another, and another, until they're standing one pace apart.

"You shouldn't miss him," Severus sighs. He sounds—almost exasperated. "You were always better than him."

"I wasn't," she weeps. "I wasn't." But she doesn't know whether James was better than Severus gave him credit for—or whether she was worse.

Severus pulls his hand away from his pocket; it hangs comically in the air for a moment before he very carefully rests it on her upper arm. It feels cold through the fabric of her nightgown. She doesn't try to fight him—she's got no fight left in her—but he doesn't come any closer, and Lily thinks he would have been content to stand there with barely a hand on her until she pushed him away if she didn't—

—Her knees buckle, and then they're on the ground and she's within his arms. Even while they were friends, she and Severus didn't hug often. He's been thin—too thin—ever since Azkaban, and he feels bony and frail, like she could blow him over with a breath. Lily hides her face in his shoulder until she thinks she can compose her features into a scowl.

"I'm sorry you lost your husband," he tells her as she finally pulls back, feeling deeply ashamed.

"No, you're not. Don't lie to me like that."

"I'm not lying. I'm not sorry he's dead, but I'm still sorry you lost him."

And Lily doesn't have anything she can say to that. She reaches blindly for her wand; her hand shakes as she searches for it there on the ground. When she stands, he doesn't follow her.

She forgets the ice cream, but by the time she realizes it, she's halfway back up the stairs, and there's no way in hell she's going back down there for anything else tonight. Lily considers just going back to her bedroom so she doesn't have to face Sirius and Remus, but she doesn't know if she's feeling up to pulling herself together in front of Harry, even if he is sleeping—and anyway, they probably heard her down there. The whole house probably did. God, tomorrow morning's going to suck.

Remus and Sirius obviously have pieced together that something is wrong because they don't ask about the ice cream. "Do you want to talk about it?" Remus asks carefully when she returns to the bedroom.

"No," she says, even though she's sure she will.

"Okay," he agrees. He stretches out his arms, and she falls into them.

"Severus was down there," she mumbles.

Sirius has thrown his arms over both of them by now, and they sit there in a heap on the bed, where Lily feels not safe, exactly—she doesn't think she's ever going to feel safe ever again—but a little less overwhelmed, anyway. Sirius and Remus are here. She still has people who love her, good people. Then again, Sirius was as bad to Severus as James always was, and Remus allowed it. Sure, Sirius apologized at the end of fifth year—sort of—but they never really talked about it after becoming friends.

"He bullied my best friend. For years, he bullied him, and—he never acknowledged that that was wrong of him."

Remus rubs her back a little. Sirius stiffens.

"And I forgave him without even…"

Sirius draws back and sucks in a breath. "He knew it was wrong. He did. We—talked about it once in—I think it was third or fourth year? He said he…"

Lily extricates herself from their arms. She wipes her face as close to dry as she can with the sleeve of her nightgown.

"He basically admitted that got a sick sort of pleasure out of doing it and that—and that he set up lines it wasn't okay to cross and told him it was okay on one side of the line so that he wouldn't have to feel guilty for it. He told me to call him out whenever I thought he was going too far, but I was scared of losing him like I lost Regulus, and—I didn't. I never called him out. I kept going with him."

"You never told me that," Remus mutters.

"Yeah, well, ever since it happened, I tried not to let myself think about it. I didn't want to feel ashamed of myself for not putting a stop to it, especially after…"

"After what?"

"After fifth year," Sirius mutters. "After—my prank."

"Prank?"

Whatever Sirius is talking about seems to suddenly click with Remus, whose face immediately goes gaunt and ashen. "Padfoot—"

"The thing James saved Snape from under the Whomping Willow—it was Remus."

Right—she hasn't really thought about that since before she found out about Remus transforming down there, but she supposes that makes sense. Severus always did have a sick sort of fascination with finding out Remus's secret—he admitted to her long before they split up that he suspected Remus was a werewolf—and she'd known Severus had gotten under the Whomping Willow, even if she hadn't put the pieces together after finding out that it was Remus down there every month. "Yes, but—"

"It was me, Lily. I sent Snape down there. I knew Remus would be in the Shrieking Shack, and I sent Snape down after him."

And—Lily's blood runs cold.

This is Sirius. Lily knows Sirius—she knows he's not evil—but how could he—? Why would—?

"He could have died," she breathes. "He could have been turned. He could have—"

"I'm not defending it," Sirius says quickly. "I was really messed up back then, and I took it out on him, and—"

"And you knew about this?" She turns to Remus. "You and James?"

"We… we did. He and Pettigrew were really, really angry for months—"

"But they forgave him?"

"Yes, but—"

"And you weren't angry? You just—?"

"It's… it's complicated. I—"

"I—have to go. I have to get out of here."

"Lily, wait—"

"Don't talk to me," she says for the second time that night, and then she's just gone.