Chapter 3
"Hello," Lily said to the Leaky Cauldron's somewhat familiar-looking barman.
"Good day. I'm Tom. What can I do for you?"
God, this was bizarre! Tom had thick, straw-colored hair. And a full set of teeth. He didn't appear much older than they were. "Right," Lily continued, shaking off her surprise. "We need a room for the night, and dinner and breakfast."
"That's included with the room. Comes to five sickles, if you please." The disturbingly young-looking Tom made change from the galleon Merope handed him, frowning at them thoughtfully. "You girls new to the area?"
"I'm from a town rather far from here," Merope replied, yawning widely and swaying on her feet.
"Sorry. She's due in a couple months, and we just need the room," Lily said, wishing fervently that Tom could count sickles faster.
"Merlin's beard! Congratulations!" Tom smiled at Merope, and handed her the change and Lily the key. "Room 5, then. Up the stairs and to the left."
"Thank you," Lily replied, supporting her exhausted companion across the hall and up the steep flight of stairs.
"One bed," Merope murmured, as Lily eased the door open.
"I see that," Lily said, gently helping her sit. "Do you need anything? Water? Tea?"
"I'm all right," said Merope, stretching out on her side and resting a hand over her stomach. "Just want to sleep." With that, her eyes closed and her breathing deepened.
Wow, Lily thought. Poor girl. She examined Merope closely as she lay in repose. Even asleep, the expression on her plain, heavy-featured face was remote. Lank dirt-colored hair spilled out behind her across the pillow; Lily wondered idly what color it would be after a thorough wash, as she rose to place a second pillow behind Merope's back. The young woman's appearance didn't suggest she would birth a sociopathic murderer; then again, Lily mused, why should it?
The weariness she had ignored came on suddenly, and she curled up on the far side of the bed, wishing to be anywhere but here. Even if she saw her husband and son again, they could not know her as she now was; her future self would find the happiness she was certain to have given up. As sleep at last enshrouded her, Lily wished she had chosen to move on. If she ever saw Marlene again, that bitch would not hear the end of it...
They woke in the morning to a light knock at their door. "Breakfast will be served in half an hour," Tom called, then the sound of hurried footsteps signaled his departure. Lily groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she stretched deliciously. Merope's waking was far quieter, and she lay observing Lily with a halfhearted frown. "What time is it?" she asked.
"Half past seven," Lily replied.
Merope rose from the bed with a speed that belied her tiredness. "After breakfast, what is your plan?" she asked, as she ran her fingers through her hair, not doing much to untangle it.
"I'll look for a job in Muggle London," Lily said. "No point in delaying. And I expect we can find a cheaper place to stay there, too."
Merope looked at her anxiously. "I was thrown out of the last place I stayed because my landlady/employer caught me talking to a snake."
:Oh dear,: Lily hissed. :Not your fault, though. It was only bad timing.:
Merope's mouth dropped open. "You speak it?" she whispered. "How? Are we kin?"
Lily shook her head. "I'm Muggle-Born," she began, then waited to gauge Merope's response. When no hostile reaction followed, she continued: "My guess is that one of my ancestors could speak, but birthed a Squib, and the ability went dormant for several generations. I mean, Slytherin wasn't the only Parselmouth alive..."
Merope sat silently for a moment, eyes hooded. Then she looked up at Lily with a smirk. "If my father and brother ever found out about you, they would no doubt proceed to vehemently deny your existence, and perhaps try to kill you."
Lily grimaced. "They do not sound like pleasant people."
"No. They really aren't."
*
Breakfast was uneventful, and light on conversation. Merope eyed Lily as they ate, this Mudblood Parselmouth that had appeared out of nowhere and expressed a desire to help her. Where could she have come from? Merope returned her gaze to her food, deciding to put off finding answers until they were properly settled.
"We should change some of your galleons into pounds," Lily said, as they finished their meal.
"Sounds fine," said Merope, "but I've never been to Gringots before. It's an intimidating place."
Lily tried to look reassuring. "Oh, it's not so bad. Unless you annoy a goblin; then it has the potential to be unpleasant."
When they reached the entrance into Diagon Alley, Merope glanced at Lily, and Lily glanced back.
"I haven't been able to do magic properly in weeks," Merope admitted, shamefaced.
"I don't have a wand," Lily added, equally shamefaced.
Merope extracted her own—short and careworn—from her pocket and held it out. "You'd better tap the bricks, then." Lily obliged.
The wind blew briskly as they walked toward the towering marble structure, the Alley's focal point. Merope had observed Gringots in awe from afar; she never dealt with enough money for a visit to be necessary.
The goblins behind the counter looked like they did in the few picture books her family possessed when she was growing up; pointy ears, swarthy faces, and wickedly intelligent eyes. If she hadn't been so anxious about her future, she may have enjoyed dealing with them. As it was, Lily did most of the talking, while Merope watched silently.
*
"Well now, that's convenient," Lily said several minutes later as they walked down a car and pedestrian-crowded Muggle street, gesturing delightedly at a HELP WANTED sign in a bakery window. "I'll go in and offer my services, shall I?"
"I was never much for fancy baking," Merope replied. "But if you are, have at them."
"All right." Lily strode inside, asked about the sign, and emerged ten minutes later with (week-long trial basis) full-time employment, beginning two days hence.
"Do you know of any available rooms or flats for two adults and a baby?" Lily asked her employer-to-be, and was given the address of a house with rooms to rent.
"This is cozy," Merope quipped, as Lily unlocked the door to their new residence with a heavy iron key. The flat contained a small common room for both cooking and social gatherings, with two small bedrooms and a water closet.
"I like it," Lily said, as she paced around the length of the front room. The sofa was raggedly upholstered, but appeared comfortable. They both settled onto it with sighs of relief.
"Home sweet home, yes?" Lily murmured.
"I hope so."
Lily's first day of work was long. Bending over repeatedly to retrieve loaves from the large ovens became steadily more tiring. Her hands ached from incessant kneading, and sweat beaded on her forehead in the kitchen's oppressive heat.
"These loaves are very well-formed," the big-bellied, jolly-looking man who owned the bakery said encouragingly, observing her as she rested her weight against the counter after putting in more newly-risen loaves in to bake.
"Thank you," Lily replied.
"Continue like this, and you'll be one of my best hires."
"I'll do what I can," Lily said, sounding as chipper as she could despite her weariness.
Coming home that first evening was surprisingly pleasant. Merope had prepared a simple meal for the two of them, after which they sat and attempted to carry on rather awkward conversation.
"How was work?" Merope asked.
"Fine. Exhausting, but fine."
Merope raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"Nothing like when my sister and I baked together," Lily said, thinking wistfully of those days when she and Tuney could set aside disagreements and work while exchanging few words on an ostentatiously decorated cake or biscuits whose taste did not warrant their difficulty.
"I wish I had a sister," Merope said.
"My sister and I had a falling-out years ago. She was jealous that I was a witch, and she wasn't."
"Oh." Merope looked at her with a hint of sympathy. "My brother hated me after he found out I loved a Muggle. Maybe a sister would have been more understanding."
"Who’s to say," Lily remarked, lightly brushing Merope's hand. "I need to get to bed. So... goodnight."
Lily rose and turned to leave the room. She halted at a soft call.
"Wait!"
"What is it?" Lily asked.
"I— Thank you for doing this." Merope didn't make eye contact as she spoke, choosing instead to examine nervously twisting fingers.
Lily opened her mouth to respond, came up with nothing, and left the room—and Merope—in silence.
The weeks passed, during which a peaceable routine was established. Lily rose early and went to the bakery—where her employer continued to be impressed by her work, while Merope stayed home, making meals and cleaning when morning sickness and lethargy weren't too troubling. To Lily, the days passed slowly. Fall was cold that year, with frequent bouts of sleet and snow that left her shivering as she made her way home. Even after weeks, she still hadn't purchased a wand. Merope offered hers, but casting anything with it made Lily feel somewhat ill. And though warming charms seemed nice enough, magic was not necessary and a wand of her own cost more than they could currently afford.
Between the lack of a functional wand and the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, Lily spent her evenings curled up on her hard mattress, wishing to hear James's voice and to feel his arms around her, to hold her precious Harry and breathe in his sweet infant scent. And yet some evenings her companion made it possible to forget for brief moments those she had left behind.
There was, for example, the time they tested out various language not suitable for polite company in Parseltongue. ("Fucking bastards" sounded more like "mating abandoned hatchlings.")
Or that time they came up with all the worst qualities of the men they (still) loved. ("All those times James insulted my best friend." "Tom didn't have feelings for me.")
But the levity only distracted Lily from her bitterness, which came to a peak one night in early December.
"Lily, are you all right?" Merope called through the door. Lily choked on her sobs, her pillow soaked with tears. Everything was too much. This woman outside her door didn't deserve help. Why did Lily have to do anything? Why couldn't she have just lived her life the way she'd hoped to?
"Go away!"
Merope ignored this and opened the door, making her way laboriously across the room on somewhat swollen feet. She perched on the side of the bed. "I know you don't want to be here. You haven't exactly tried to hide it."
"I'm sorry." Lily rolled over to face the wall, thus turning her back on her unwanted visitor.
"Don't be. It isn't as if anyone has ever done anything like this for me before. I'm not sure what the proper response to what you're doing should be."
"I didn't have a choice," Lily whispered. "I want to go home. But you needed someone and—"
"Thank you," Merope said to halt Lily's apology, reaching out to her and embracing her. "I don't want you to leave."
Lily returned the embrace, burying her face against Merope's shoulder. "I won't leave you."
"Come and have a cup of tea," Merope said, helping Lily to her feet. "It won't change anything about this, but it might help you feel better."
Lily agreed, and allowed Merope to guide her with an arm about her waist to her usual seat at the scrubbed wooden table, and accepting the piping cup of tea placed before her.
The scent of the steam wafting from the mug reminding Lily vaguely of a rainy summer's night and leather-bound books, as well as the inexplicably alluring smell of Merope's hair. Too weary to comment, Lily listlessly stirred the tea. Merope watched shiftily as she raised the mug to her lips. As she drank, Lily looked up to see a face that had acquired an ethereal beauty. Oh god, she loved Merope Gaunt.