primrose

Lovelorn

You know, I still wait at the edge of town

praying straight to God that maybe you'll come back around.

I cry everyday, and the bottles make it worse,

'cause you were the only one I was never scared to tell I hurt.

A House in Nebraska, Ethel Cain.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

The Hogwarts train, alone, was a surreal affair. Lily felt hallowed out, like a pumpkin on Halloween. She didn't read, or try to do some of her summer coursework like she normally would. Instead, the stared out the window nearly unblinking in an empty compartment. It was soundless save for the churn of the wheels beneath her and the occasional ruffle of her owls feathers. She's sure that she didn't think at all that entire ride. It was like being in a liminal space, between consciousness and sleep where she couldn't bring herself to think, but it burned to close her eyes. 

Mary hugged her for five solid minutes before she left, and Lily had clung onto her like some kind of love blind addict for as long as she let her. Mary had practically begged Dumbledore to let her go with Lily. He didn't allow it, obviously, but it was nice to see her try. She gave Lily her home phone number, and told her to call anytime. Any day. Any where. It sat heavy in the pocket of her black pea-coat along with the money she transfigured before she left just in case. 

Severus found her when he'd heard before she was about to leave. He seemed a little upset that she hadn't gone to him immediately. He did apologize though, giving her a hug in the hallway like he used to when they were kids. Mulciber and the others he hung around heckled them the entire time, and while Sev seemed angry at it she still would've liked to hear a 'piss off', or something.

She got a lot of apologies that morning, she was told later that Pandora Lovegood had spread the news. A sweet girl, but a horrible gossip. "The boys", or so they'd taken to calling them, heard that night, though. From Marlene, she assumed. Maybe Mary. They threw charmed sparks at one of the dorm windows until someone opened it, the four of them sitting on broomsticks with shit-eating grins and sad eyes. Lily was almost mad, for a second, but then Peter almost fell off his broom. And Remus ran a hand through his hair and held out a book for her. James flew past her and did a loop-d-loop in their room, Sirius following behind and enveloping her in the biggest hug as if they'd been friends for years. 

And she just...   laughed.

Because they were idiots, and they should've never snuck out past curfew, but they spent hours trying to cheer her up with the girls. 

That's the only thing that really crossed her mind on the train back. The sound of Queen playing low in her head, melting into Bowie and then Abba. All she could really think, in passing, was that if Severus had found out past curfew, would he have snuck out to see her? 

She didn't know then, and she supposes that she never will. 

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

Lily's mum didn't pick her up at platform 9 3/4.

She waited until the lights dim, arms crossed over her chest. Legs swinging back and forth from where she sat on a metal bench with holes in it. The crowd of people gradually lessened, eventually reducing to a few stragglers and people with brooms sweeping up dust. The London summer heat sweltered. 

Eventually, she took off her jacket and threw it over her arm. She resolved to walk all the way home with all her belongings in nothing but a tank top and her school skirt. She'd read about the Knight Bus a couple of times (though she never thought she'd have to go on it) and decided that it was probably her best course of action once she realized she couldn't walk the entire way. Though she knew what would happen, she still started when it pulled up as summoned by the hail of her wand. 

It felt strangely scandalous. The Knight Bus was apparently a well respected mode of transportation in the Wizarding world, but being a muggle hitch-hiking felt like a one-way-ticket to kidnapping and everything of the sort. 

Aside from that, though, the ride was unpleasant on its own. Lily had convinced herself, as the drive continued and she was pulled to and fro by gravity, that her mum and sister had died too. That she was an orphan now and would have to live with Mary in France or start a transfiguration scam and buy a muggle flat with fake money.

In her mind there was no other reason why her mum wouldn't pick her up.

A man older than fifty or so with a bushy beard and black eyes sat two beds away from her smoking a jillyweed pipe. “Wotcher doing out so late, lady?” 

He had a thick London accent and an air of dark magic she’d always been good at spotting. 

“Going to a bachelorette party.” Lily lied cooly, pretending to be preoccupied with a book she’d been staring at instead of reading. 

The man lost interest soon after that, immediately once he was under the impression she was older than she looked. Her insides felt ice-cold and prickly under her skin, but she never once looked up from that book until she got off. 

The door creaked when she opened it and peaked inside. 

“Hello?” She heard her mothers voice drift from the sitting room, familiar, but tainted with a tiredness she hadn’t heard before. 

“Mummy?” Lily asked, feeling childish and silly as she stood in the doorway clutching her wand for comfort. 

Her mum was on her dads usual chair, the one with a sticky cup-holder from the perpetual beer cans and their spills. The small box tele was in front of her, playing some show she hadn’t seen that must’ve came out while Lily was off at school. The air was stale. 

The woman in the living room looked like her mother, only tired and twice as weak. Her skin hugged her bones tight, the bags under her eyes were a dark plum, and her hair looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in days.

It broke her heart a bit, seeing that.

Lily’s mum, Jacqueline Evans, was her biggest inspiration in life. She was kind, and unfailingly giving. So full of life, love, and happiness. 

The most beautiful woman in the world with a head of classy red curls straight from the depths of Ireland, whose favorite part of church was the charity. 

She’d never seen her so broken before.

“Oh,  A Stór ,” Her mum smiled weakly. “M’ glad you’re home darling.” 

“Where’s Tuney?” Lily replied wearily, picking up the half-eaten tray of microwaveable food on the coffee table and throwing it away. 

Jacqueline hummed noncommittally, still half focused on the tele.

“Mummy?” 

“Hm?” She turned over, her eyes rimmed with red as she took her in for the first time. “Oh, with that Vernon, I think.”

It hit her then, really for the first time that her sister was in love. Lily hadn't even met Vernon. Her own sister never wrote. Because she didn't want her to know. Her own sister didn't want her in her life. The thought sent shakes throughout both of her arms. 

They used to talk about it all the time, as girls. The both of them fell in love with love at an early age. It hurt her in a way she could never quite articulate that Petunia still loved love, she just didn't love  her . 

She didn't even blame her. Because later she'd find out that her father died a month ago, and her mum didn't write because she couldn't get out of bed. And nobody but Petunia was there to help her.

Lily wouldn't love herself either. 

That night, she fell asleep curled up by her mum like a stuffed toy. Unmoving. Terrified that if she moved, even an inch, her mum would wake from the fretful but sure sleep she'd finally fallen into. The smell of whisky still clung to the chair, the feeling of it on the walls. And she prayed. Lily stared up at the ceiling above the tv static and prayed as hard as she could. For her dad, her mum, her sister. She wanted at least one of them back, in any measure. 

Nobody answered.

Petunia didn't come home for days. 

Lily organized her dads funeral alone.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

Petunia had already set the memorial date for the dawn after the funeral, and left the rest of the planning to her. Mum was supposed to help, and she tried, but most of it was left for Lily. Tuney was busy with living arrangements for her and Vernon, apparently.

She was too tired to be vexed. 

Instead, Lily had run tirelessly around town sending invitations and such. It was an odd feeling, going around like some kind of police officer and informing the occasional church-go-ers from the outskirts of town that her father had passed. While it may have been in her head she always felt as though they expected her to maintain some level of professionalism. 

She tried her hardest, reminded herself that it was their loss too. He was very beloved, her dad. People loved his sermons. He was always patting people on the back, and making home visits if necessary.

Sometimes, during that summer, she wondered if they knew him better than Lily did. 

In his will her father requested that he be buried in the field behind the church. The one she and Severus spent Christmas in all those years ago, which felt like another lifetime entirely. It was a beautiful location regardless. Dotted with sprawling willow trees canopying the expanse from the sun, only allowing small broken fragments of sunlight to peek through.

The service was given by his brother, who she hadn’t seen since long before she went to Hogwarts. He was a tall man with dirty blonde hair and a kind smile named Richard, a former pastor himself back in his day before he passed the torch onto his own son. Even still, phoning him had made her anxious, and she’d twirled the cord around her finger in small loops to distract herself from how badly she wanted to throw up. 

He agreed, obviously. And even tracked down the rest of his will, which was detailed in a file in their old home just a few towns over. Petunia wrinkled her nose at it, stepping outside for a fag. 

There were some things about property rights, which she anxiously pored over. Their current house, to mum. The house he grew up in, the one she’d stood in then to Tuney. Number Four Privet Drive. Lily thought it was nice, that she’d have somewhere to raise her future child, which is all she seemed to talk about those days. But when Petunia saw the paper, her eyes welled up with tears and she left the room entirely. 

To Lily, he left his books. Every single piece of literature he poured over studying at Oxford. Books were one of the few worldly possessions that dad had felt weren’t sinful to have copious amounts of. She grew up in a house with paper-thin walls that slanted with the weight of large bookcases pressed against them. Half-bound paper sitting on the kitchen counters, stacks upon stacks everywhere you looked. It was the greatest thing he could’ve given her, accompanied by what was possibly the worst.

He wrote in his will that he wanted Lily to speak at his wake. 

“In regards to my wake, it is my wish that Lilyflower give the speech. All that magic in her head, it’s only fair that people remember me by her words, as the Lord himself was magic.”  

It always made her uncomfortable when he referred to her magic. It was always done it terms of "God's gift" and such, which made her feel incredibly out of her element. She knew that she was talented, her charms work was acclaimed by her teachers, her transfiguration work even better. But she never felt like it was something given to her by God. As if she'd been chosen. 

Her dad used to look at her as if she were a marvel. While Petunia sneered and rolled her eyes, both of her parents regarded it with reverence. Lily had to beg him to not speak of it in church, but he still told their family. She never stopped hearing about it. 'God's child' 'Chosen one', all of it only seemed to make things worse with her sister. Once, at a family gathering in the chapel, one of her cousins asked her to turn the Holy water into wine. She'd done it, with flushed cheeks feeling like she'd done something awful and blasphemous.

And while Lily was intelligent, she had a habit of saying things wrong. She could be witty, especially if under pressure, but being particularly vulnerable and handling it with grace was not her strong suit. Petunia told her once that she felt too much, that she loved too hard. Petunia could lock herself into boxes and remove herself from the situation at hand. But she knew that Lily couldn't.

What’s that quote? From Sylvia Plath?

“Even when I feel nothing, I feel it completely.”  

It was a hamartia, a fatal flaw, that she shared with Mary. Her love was forever a calamitous thing, her heart treacherous in its beats. It made life beautiful, but similar to the crashing tide, an emotion too strong, too high, only kills. She and Mary loved one another, wholly and truly with all their hearts.

And it destroyed them, inevitably and irrevocably. 

Severus came, he’d been there for about a week then, the term having just ended. He spent most of that time trailing after her in her affairs with a perpetual blank stare. Snide comments were made about Petunia, some were funny. It wasn’t as though she was hindered by his presence, she genuinely loved having him there, but she constantly felt as if she was burdening him with her busyness.

He’d never say it, but she could tell he was bored. Sympathetic, of course, but he couldn’t do much around her but read through potions textbooks he’d already read and doodle in the margins. Lily found it hard to talk, everything coming out jumbled until something she was sure she’d forgotten to do popped into her head and she was sidetracked entirely. 

He talked about James and the others with a venomous tongue, and Lily participated but her heart wasn’t in it. It felt like Severus was obsessed with them, but the second she brought up Mulciber and the Slytherins he would get defensive. Saying that they just joked, that it was all a laugh and that they were actually really clever once you got to know them.

Lily found herself spending less time with him. And it hurt to do so, because she wanted to see him. She was chronically exhausted, and always craving one of Remus’ cigarettes (which she'd taken to nicking every once in a while) or Marlene’s jokes, or Mary’s hugs. 

God, she would’ve given anything to have hugged Mary then.

They didn’t even have to hug. She’d have given anything to just see her, or hear her voice. The phone number was still in her jacket from that day, but she had this awful thought in the back of her mind that if she called she’d only weigh her down. She was sure that if she phoned her she'd be disappointed at her lack of words, or proper emotions.

She’d be disappointed, and even though she wouldn’t be able to see her she’d hear something in her tone that said ‘You’re not the same Lily anymore’. And she couldn’t take that from Mary.

So she didn’t call when she should’ve.

The actual funeral, however, was lovely. Richard was a smooth talker with that ‘pastor charm’, as mum used to call it.

The company she’d called came and dug a large rectangular hole. Dads body was carried out by the Men Of The Church in a mahogany wood coffin with intricate gold edges and a large cross on the center. Dad had refused to have a normal funeral, with an open coffin, always preaching about burials as being better forms of closure.

It was funny to her then that he had an opinion about it, like he’d be there. 

But Lily had never felt more detached from anything in her life, than she did to that coffin. It was lowered into the ground, people from their church with all kinds of different faces came up to her to offer their condolences. She smiled as politely as she could, but she would’ve rather been anywhere else.

She’d ordered different flowers for the service, Petunias, Lilies, and Mayflowers (for her grandma). They came in large bouquets in various shades of red. Lily decided on white for the wake, for mourning, but red felt right for the funeral. A burial within itself is the death of something. Locking a soul beneath the ground. 

Mum, Petunia and her wore near identical black dresses with short black heels that sunk into the grass, damp from the light rain. It was the first rain shower that season, which felt morbidly apt. She’d bought Severus a suit to wear after he shyly said that he only had brown muggle dress jackets.

Joseph Evans was a simple man . As his brother had said, ‘He did things Gods way, and never forgot to see the beautiful things in life’ . She likes to think that’s why he named them after flowers instead of biblical figures like her cousins. Because he really truly cared about life, despite how he died.

She went home after the funeral with her half-asleep mum hanging off her shoulder, dizzy from the pills in her pocket. Severus followed, helping her put her mum to bed. She was too tired to think about how her mum had been taking more pills since dad died, often rendering her as speechless as a space cadet.

They sat on the porch, her head on his shoulder. It was hard to see the stars in London then. The air polluted with smoke, even in their small town. Time felt both non-existent and entirely as if it were running out. Tuney came up the drive, a large suit jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Her arm was locked with Vernon's, whom she'd seen at the funeral earlier. He gave her a polite tight-tipped smile when he saw her, his face scrunching up like a pug and turning red all over. Petunia, however, looked lovely as ever. As if the death of their father was a mere inconvenience. 

"What're you two love birds doing out so late?" Vernon asked in his dumb American accent. Where her sister found that man, she did not know. Regardless, Sev stiffened, his hand unconsciously coming up to clutch her arm. 

Lily ignored him, tilting her head up much to her friends' apparent dismay. "You disappeared after the funeral." She addressed her sister lightly.

A flicker of softness flickered through her expression before turning to disgust once more. "We had dinner with Vernon's work friends."

"After burying your father ?" She responded incredulously, a sudden anger flaring up inside her. 

Why does she get to be fine? Why does Lily have to do everything while she gets to prance around with her little American boyfriend while Lily holds everything down?

Petunia detached herself from her boyfriend, walking over to the porch and standing above her making Lily feel ridiculously small. Vernon's nostrils were flaring with the effort it took him to school his expression, angry for a reason beyond her. But her sister didn't bother to hide the clear-as-day contempt on her face. "You don't get to tell me how to grieve."

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

The first time she ever drank alcohol was the morning of the wake. Lily had been known to have a cigarette every once in a while, or a spliff in the greenhouse especially during fourth year. But she'd never drank. In her head, smoking was something that was forgivable. It somehow felt less sinful, even though her father drank as a priest, she still felt like the smoke was something she could pray away. And besides, there wasn't much access to alcohol at fifteen, nobody really let you into common room parties until you were sixteen anyway.

It wasn't planned, obviously

She'd been inconsolable that morning, shaking from head to toe with her speech written in her hands. It was a piece of clean parchment with loopy cursive and several crossed out paragraphs she'd rewritten several times. Lily spent the entire morning stressing herself out. She paced in front of her vanity, feeling so insane she thought she might start hallucinating the flowers on her wallpaper growing. It didn't feel complete or apt or anything her father or God would approve of.

The night before was spent revising it obsessively, so even though the funeral had just ended she'd gotten no sleep.

Lily went down the stairs in her white dress she got made for the occasion. At the kitchen table the found her mother, staring blankly at the wall. Classical music played from a record player in the kitchen so loud it physically reverberated off the walls. Slowly, never letting her eyes leave her mum, she took the needle off the album.

"Mum, it's almost time."

"For the wake?" Her mother seemed to snap out of her trace, slightly more lucid than she'd been the day before. Lily observed that she'd changed into the wake dress, which was good, but she hadn't bothered to brush her hair. 

"Mhm," Lily responded absentmindedly, running to the loo for a brush and hair bands. She came back and stood behind her mum, carefully running the brush through her soft red curls. "Have you drank water today?" 

"You don't have to treat me like a child Lily." Her hand stalled in her hair, but only briefly. It felt like forever since her mum used her name instead of A Stór ,and she tried her hardest not to let it sting. She reminded herself that she was grieving, that she'd lost her husband, and it wasn't about her. 

"I know." She replied, thankful that her mum let her resume doing her hair.

It felt odd to run her hands through her mum's scalp, tying the top half of her hair back into a braided crown. It was something her mum used to do to her. She doesn't even remember when she stopped, but she reckoned it was about when she went to Hogwarts. Nobody ever spoke about that. When you come from a wizard family, nothing changes. But if you're muggle-born, you loose your family in the process. Lily loved magic, and she wouldn't have given it up for anything, but it was hard to remember that when she was back in London and her magic was rendered useless with the wizard laws. 

She missed Mary, because she knew that she'd understand. 

Mum stood up and turned around, facing her full on. Lily was her height now, no longer looking up to her as if she were a revered statue. Her mum felt so incredibly human now. 

"Your hands are shaking," Mum said, taking them in hers gently. 

I want to go home. 

She let go after a moment of looking her over and walked over to the cabinet, the one with ornate stained glass and an open brass lock. Lily watched, unmoving, as her mum pulled out a bottle of her fathers rum and poured her a shot. "For today, just to curb it.

Though she doesn't remember the decision to take it, she remembers that it went down easy. Lily had never had a drop of alcohol in her life, but she didn't even flinch. It was relatively sweet, expensive too, she presumed. She wondered if her father liked the taste of it, as she poured herself another one. It ran down her throat like smooth water, and all she could think to herself was that it would make it better. It would make her calmer. 

She knew about addictions. It was something she researched, even before Hogwarts. In their public library, on the box computers. She should've known better. That her mum obviously wasn't in the right mind, she wasn't even sober. The alcohol didn't really make things better for her dad, his body just physically depended on it. And it killed him, in the end. 

But she was fifteen, and about to give a speech at her dads wake. She wanted her friends, and her mum, and her sister. But most importantly she wanted it to get better.

Lily's not sure her mum even noticed her pour herself two more, because she didn't say a word about it the entire car ride there.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

She was a mess when she got to the podium. Lily had seen her father preach there several times, with that beaming grin of his and that natural charm. He'd preached drunk before, more often than not. But he had that natural ability to sway a room, no matter how inebriated he was. 

When she got up there she immediately prayed to Jesus, hoping he'd let her handle her liquor. The room was stunning as ever, filled with people she'd known her entire life. Except this time they all looked solemn. Celebration of life her arse. Either way they all tried to smile encouragingly, and she knew they all expected her to deliver the same way her father did. Gracefully, boastfully, loudly. 

It ached, though, somewhere deep in her soul. Being up at the podium. It felt soulless, and empty. God was supposed to be with her, standing over her with a fatherly smile and a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Instead all she felt was the chill of the cracked open window and the sound of a rat skittering in the corner. Lily wanted to beg, to fall down to her knees and weep for God to appear to her. To hold her hand like a child and guide her through it.

To save her, just once. 

But she figured then that she wasn't worthy. 

If she was good enough to be loved by him, she wouldn't have forgotten the words on her script. She wouldn't have a hallowed out pit in her gut and a carnal longing for something she couldn't even explain in her heart. It occurred to her then, that maybe she just wasn't strong enough. 

"Hello," Lily exhaled a shaky breath. "Thank you all for coming.

"My father really loves his church." She was off script already, trying to remember what she'd memorized. "-Loved, I suppose. He's dead now." Lily cringed, laughing awkwardly. The wind picked up outside and it send shivers all the way down her spine. "Uhm. He always- He always tried to appreciate life." Magic furrowed beneath her bones, she could feel it in her veins. It was always there. "I'd never met a man who loved God like he did." She couldn't think. "He was always quoting the Bible to me, and my sister. I reckon he memorized every verse. I wish- I wish that I felt Him like he did.

"I wish a lot of things, actually. I wish that I wrote to him at school. Uhm. I wish- I wish that I knew what he was thinking. I wish I knew where he is now, if he can hear me. Can you hear me dad?" Lily looked up at the ceiling, and stared through the skylight. Genuinely, she felt that if the stared at the sky long enough she'd have some kind of epiphany and it would all make sense. "Suppose he can't answer that." Her words were slurring more as the tears fell from her eyelashes for the first time since the day she found out. Anxiety bubbled in her throat with bile. "I wish I could tell myself that he's not in Hell and, you know, believe it.

"'Cause, technically, he topped himself." She covered her mouth "Do you know that? Was I supposed to say that?" Horrified looks stared back at her, and she panicked more. "I'm sorry. Just. He's dead.

"My dad is dead. And everything is worse now."

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

Lily went home and cried into her pale green sheet. Praying fervently, not at all lucid with a half-gone bottle of whisky under her arm. There was a large, gaping hole in her stomach that felt as if it were growing. All of it felt awful, everything ached. 

So, she did the only thing that felt like a remedy. 

"Bonjour, stranger!" A light, male voice with a musical quality to it bellowed throughout the phone speaker. Her eyebrows furrowed and more tears came, because she couldn't even get the bloody number right.

Lily was feeling very sorry for herself when she responded in a weak voice, "Is Mary Macdonald there?"

Her voice came out shaky and she flinched when it broke. Her voice hadn't been used since after the wake, when she got into an argument with Severus. Lily crossed her fingers around the bottle and sent up a silent prayer. 

"Well who want to k-" The man was cut off, and there was a sound of shuffling on the other line. 

She was about to hang up, tail between her legs, when she heard a soul crushingly familiar voice distantly ring through the phone. "Well if it's for me then- no. Go to bed, old man." Mary got closer to the speaker, and Lily held her breath. "Hello?"

Lily exhaled, feeling a wave of relief wash over her.  Thank God , her thoughts ran fervently. 

Hello, hi. How are you? Are you okay? Was that your dad? Where are you? I miss you. God, I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. It hurts to think about you. Does it hurt for you too? 

Instead of saying any of that she had some sense to reply normally, perhaps only because she was exceptionally breathless in her euphoria. 

"Mary?" 

"Lily!" Mary shuffled on the other line, "Lily, Christ. Are you crying? Do you need me to come there? I'll go."

It was something she wouldn't have even considered with anybody else. And she was on the brink of saying no, but then she thought about her smile, and the way she always understood. And Mary had sounded so sure , so absolute. Lily knew that Mary would march all the way to London from France if she just asked. 

So, she did.

"Please. I need you”

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

So it began: the beginning of the end. Or the end of the beginning. However you look at it.

Either way, that summer (or rather, that entire year) marked a guttural shift between them. There was something sacred about their shared summers, the sun making everything feel less real.

It got to the point, somewhere between that phone call and September, where it wasn't seen as normal anymore. When they were girls they could be as devoted to one another as they were. Nobody batted an eye if they were sleeping in one bed, or holding hands down the corridors. 

But with the war brimming under the skin of every wizard, that summer was the last of that carelessness that came with knowing nobody was watching. 

While logically she knows that it couldn't have been, when she looks back she thinks of it as such a lovely time. Lily was grieving, and the world was falling apart at her stinged fingertips, but she had Mary. And that's all that mattered. 

Mary blew into Cokeworth two days later with four glossy blood-red suitcases and a grin that should've been in magazines. It was magic in it's own right, the way everything brightened instantly. Her friend's entire face lit up when she saw Lily at the train station, the one that lie at the edge of town. 

"Hello stranger," She said cheekily when they untangled themselves from their embrace. It was endearing, the way Mary looked at her. She looked different that summer. Older, somehow. It had only been a few weeks but it was clear she'd spent them in the sun, her brown skin a couple shades darker, vague heart-shaped freckles dotting her nose. Mary seemed to try out a new hair-style, her usual ringlet curls out in that classic seventies blow-out that made her look like an actress. 

She was all charm, meeting her mother and easing a couple of jokes out of her, and a smile she hadn't seen in months. It looked easy when she did it, and she could tell Mary was trying not to treat her differently, but she still saw that flicker of concern in her eyes. The way her smirk would drop just a touch, before rising up even brighter. 

When she thought Lily wasn't paying attention, she observed her hungerly. She felt watched, and seen in the way that she was used to with Mary, but there was a new consciousness about it. 

Something shifted in her, when she called Mary. Never in her life had she admitted to needing somebody before. She felt it, several times with increasing ferocity but she refused to give in. The Gryffindor in her, as James would put it later. Always refusing help, insisting that she was fine and could do it on her own. But she needed Mary more than she needed her pride, or her dignity. It was like a drug, constant in the fact that it was the only remedy. Admitting it, though, made her  aware.

She was always aware that something in her was tied to Mary, painfully but irrevocably. And she always wondered if Mary felt it too. Lily, for possibly the first time in her life, was aware of the way she looked. There was a bit of envy in it, she was still a teenager after all. 

Walking around the streets she'd lived on forever, with Mary who'd developed in all the right places within months and seemed to figure out make-up in the span of three weeks made her feel self-conscious. Like she needed to look good beside her, but also in a darker part of her mind,  for  her. 

Lily  wanted  Mary to look at her. To think she was pretty, or that she looked cool. Needing all of the good things about her also meant needing the ugly. She didn't care if Mary somehow grew horribly jealous of her, as long as she was looking it didn't matter.

So she nicked some of Petunia's lip-tint from her vanity, some of her mum’s black pencil eyeliner (She thought it looked a bit like Sirius sometimes, which was disconcerting but not entirely unpleasant).

And while she spent her days glued to Mary’s hip, Lily tried her absolute hardest to include Severus. He complained, relentlessly, that they couldn’t be alone. To which she would firmly remind him that Mary left home for her, and is staying with her. So she quite literally had nowhere else to go. 

Even still, every time he was around them he’d cross his arms and scowl even if Mary was being perfectly cordial. And she was. For the first time since she’d met her, Mary was an angel to Sev. Sometimes Lily would catch her narrowing her eyes when she thought she wasn’t looking, or scoffing under her breath at a particularly tactless comment, but she was on her best behavior. 

Severus, however, had grown darker with age. She found it hard to come to terms with, as most things with him. But he grew up differently. Lily would never treat him badly because of it, but his sweet smiles turned into smirks. And his wide-eyed fascination with potions turned into the Dark Arts. It was an odd feeling, constantly snapping at somebody she'd grown up with for comments about muggle-borns. Especially when he was the person who told her that it wasn't any different being one.

She knew he was going through a hard time at home. He always was. But she couldn't help but think, bitterly, that she'd like some grace after her dad  died. Especially when she'd given him more for a lot less. It hurt her in a slow, poisoning sort of way that she often ignored. 

As usual, having her friend there was the anecdote. 

They skipped town a lot, riding the train and switching Mary's new headphones back and forth listening to Abba. Or they'd hitch the knight bus when it got darker, giggling when the pimple-nosed driver made exceptions for their over-use of it.

 Mary didn't think that the drinking was completely unhealthy, but Lily knew she was monitoring it while they ran aimlessly around London. She let her get close enough to the edge where nothing hurt, but never  ever  let her fall; they had fun, but Mary was always making sure she got to bed at night sobered up.

Her anxiety quelled, Mary had a way of doing that. Lily would fret about it getting too late, or missing her summer reading, but her friend reassured her constantly that they were okay. Both of them. Whatever came through, they'd face it together. 

"We're powerful, badass, bombshell witches." She'd say, long slender hands placed firmly on her shoulders outside of a small muggle concert, black cat-eye eyeliner smudged under her water line from having slept in it.

Her mum never questioned them sleeping in the same bed. At first, surely, she thought that Mary was sleeping on the floor or the sofa, but a couple of times she walked in on them cuddled up in the morning. But nobody really cared then, about anything they did. They were just girls. Nothing less, nothing more. Stupid, heartbroken, loud teenage girls. 

So, as it went, nothing mattered to them either. 

Except, of course, one another. 

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

Mary's dad would call, they'd speak for an hour or two on the Evans family home-phone, and then she'd look up with a grin and suggest they go out. 

All her fears of Mary wanting to go back were dissipated the second that the call would end. Even still, as if sensing it, she took to including Lily. They'd spend entire afternoons squished together on the little loveseat pushed against the staircase in the entry of her house, gossiping with Sébastien Macdonald until they were blue in the face. 

He was a drinker as well, like Lily's dad was, but he preferred the term 'functioning alcoholic'. 

Her friend explained to her that he got wrapped up in a bad crowd when he was younger, having been drafted at an early age and left dirt-poor afterwards, with all that trauma to carry. He never managed to escape his urges, and he accepted a long time before she met him that he wasn't going to live forever.

But he got to fall in love (even though that, too, was short-lived), and have Mary (his greatest achievement), and learn how to live life to the fullest. 

She'd asked Mary once if her dad going out to parties bothered her, and she just shook her head and said, "He's just living." 

It was abundantly clear that Mary was the way she was because of her dad, and though her time with Mary was relatively short-lived in the grand scheme of things, she held that love for the man until she died. 

He would call her every week or so, during the war. Just to check up. Sébastien didn't know much about wizard politics, but he managed to pull strings with some wizards he befriended along the way to get books so he could research. He'd call her up, share theories or update her on tragedies that Dumbledore didn't bother to mention. 

Sometimes he'd just talk about Mary, what she was doing. And he always made a point to ignore Lily's sniffing, for which she was eternally grateful. He was a good man, and Lily really needed that at the time. 

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

Marlene came along a few times, after they begged her relentlessly during their near daily phone calls. Each time she brought a nice brunette girl named Jane, who didn’t speak much but followed Marls around like a puppy. 

She never said much about who she was, just an off handed, ‘friend from home’ when she asked. Jane and her were obviously close though, often sharing quiet conversations with their foreheads pushed together. 

It was fun to have her around though. She was hilarious, and blunt in a way that was both funny and incredibly admirable. Lily hadn’t realized how much she missed her before then. Marlene was just as reckless as they were, the four of them running down to the creek when it got hot. Swimming in the freshwater with the sun beating down on their faces and beers from the shops stuck in the muddy grass.

The four of them were inseparable when she came round. They frequented flower shops, actually, in London. Just to look, usually high. Mary and Lily had a joint fascination with flowers, and Marlene had a photographic memory, so she knew everything they did from the books they'd made her read. It was nice to be around muggle plants. They were at Hogwarts, but it wasn't really the same. Everything was about enchantment, making the petals twirl or keeping the roots suspended and still having them grow.

After the flower shops they'd wander down to a department store, or a liquor store. Wherever they landed first. Somehow they always managed to scrape by enough money to buy books and booze with the fakes Marlene got for them. They were a courtesy of her brothers, but they worked some light wandless magic to make them more real.

One day that summer they'd just popped out of the record store, Lily had a brand new copy of The Velvet Undergound's  'Loaded'  peeking out of her bag. 

The high had almost worn off, from the joints Jane rolled that morning ("Should've called you Mary Jane"), and Marlene stopped them. "'Hang on. Sure I had another one."

"Wait till Lupin finds out you passed up Bowie's album for The Velvet Underground." Mary quipped while they waited, leaning onto the brick wall of the building next to her. She had that grin- her grin- even while she chewed bubblegum. 

Lily laughed, shoving her hands into the pockets of her forest-green crochet cardigan. "Remus worships the ground David Bowie walks on, he already has that album." 

It was loud that day, as it usually was in London. Cars passed them by bringing whips of wind in their wake, civilians yelled and laughed with one another. The sun beat down on her like it had something to prove, and she could feel the rays of sun scorching the exposed skin at the base of her neck. She brewed potions for it before she left Hogwarts, a decent stash, but she was beginning to run out and she could already feel the beginnings of a sunburn. Every time a thought that she labeled 'bad' crept up, she focused on the burn. 

Marls made an 'aha' noise and pulled out a small beat-up Altoids container. They all peaked over with interest as she opened it to reveal two bent but still well rolled spliffs. "I'll share with Jane," She said in an offhand manner. 

She nodded, it wasn't necessarily uncommon for the two of them to share smokes, or alcohol, or anything really. And obviously she shared everything with Mary anyways. 

Lily took it between her fingers, and concentrated on the end of it. She focused on the magic in her blood, and let it simmer under her skin. It was easy to feel it, those days. Like there was a constant overabundance of it, it was always there, for better or for worse. She imagined the sun burning it, briefly, and snapped her fingers. It lit instantly. 

Mary laughed and shook her head, she'd yet to manage much wandless magic as they didn't start teaching it till' newts. It took Lily a while to actually try it off school-grounds, and she'd done extensive research to make sure she wouldn't have the ministry knocking down her door (She didn't fancy going to Azkaban for some weed). 

"Lily Evans, the woman you are." She said, plucking it from her fingers and taking a drag. It left a pink-maroon stain on the end from her lips. Lily followed the movement, like she always did. Unable to help herself. 

She lit Marls’ to distract herself, much quicker than she'd done the other one. Lily took it back from her friend, taking a long (and probably dangerous) inhale, hoping she could forget about the way her lips looked wrapped around it. 

Even still, she felt her own burn. Mary grinned at her, and Lily couldn't help but feel like a fly in a spiders web. Observed by somebody who knew so much more than she did. 

"Aren't you ladies too young to be smokin' that shit!?" A gruff voice commented from the doorway of the shop across the narrow street, the owner probably. He had on a filthy apron with suspicious brown stains on it. She envisioned him shaking his fist, like a cartoon character, considering he already looked like he had stream emitting from his stark-red ears. 

"Young? I hadn't noticed." Marls deadpanned, though he couldn't hear her. The girls giggled, already slightly stoned. 

"Oh, well you know us. Real deviants." Mary replied, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Marlene grinned. 

"You two are just as bad as Potter and Black." She rolled her eyes. The man across the street looked increasingly more upset that they hadn't responded to him, and especially angry at their laughing. Mary rolled her eyes as well, when she mentioned the 'Marauders' (Lily found that name ridiculous). 

"Who’s Bla-" Jane started, before she was cut off by the man. 

"Get outta here!" He waved his hand as if to shoo them off. "I'll call the cops!" 

They broke out into startled laughter, and began to run.

Mary held her hand the entire way back home.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

It became abundantly clear, halfway through the summer, that Petunia was avoiding her. She'd hardly spoken two words to her since before the wake.

Mary had gone home for the week (not before checking with her excessively to make sure she would be okay) which meant that Lily was in a state of perpetual boredom.

It was harder to ignore things sober. 

Maybe that's why, she thought then, her dad drank so much. It wasn't like Lily was an  alcoholic,  that word left a bad taste in her mouth. She spent a long time, quite fretfully, researching potion recipes or even muggle remedies for the negative side of drinking. 

She brewed a bit, using small moderated amounts of wandless magic to shield the magical energy from the cauldron, there was one potion that flushed the alcohol out of a person's body immediately after consumption. 

So she knew she was  okay, but Lily still felt like she had something to prove to herself. Thus, newfound sobriety, and therefore boredom. 

It was getting worse though. Petunia was finishing out her school years, at eighteen, and she seemed to grow more restless in their home. Lily felt as though she was constantly over her shoulder, but every time she tried to start a conversation, or apologize for the wake she was met with a door in her face. 

It stung, hard. Especially when, in the absence of their father, she felt the sentimentality of their childhood more. It was awfully confusing, missing it so much. Because if she's honest her and Petunia weren't ever that close. Petunia was always older than her, obviously, but she made a point to never let Lily forget it. But it was warmer. 

She still knew that Petunia loved her. They had moments where Petunia would style her hair (though she was still a child herself, so it never turned out good) or they'd sit on the back porch together sharing orange slices. She'd have given anything to be that kid again, reclined on cubby fingers, basking in sunrays that felt like they came straight from God. Rainbows in the grass from the sprinklers. 

But mostly, it dazed her to miss what she never had. Lily had this notion, always at the forefront of her mind when she thought a little too hard, that they could've been normal sisters. 

If Lily wasn't who she was.

They could've gone to the mall together, in the next town over. Or they could've talked about boys late at night. If Lily wasn't so much, if she wasn't so needy, if only she were less, maybe her sister would love her more. Maybe in another life they'd be able to talk about what happened, properly.

But, she found an opportunity to speak to her during that week. Mum had asked her to fetch a hairbrush, but since Lily couldn't find one she popped into Petunia's room. She braced herself for an argument, or the cold shoulder. Petunia sat at her vanity, running her ornate floral hair brush through her blonde curls.

"I need a brush." Lily said, dumbly. She'd have rung her hands if she didn't want to seem at least a little nonchalant.

Her sister's voice came out in a flippant, "You have one, no?"

She felt a surge of anger. All summer, and Petunia couldn't even spare her a glance? What the fuck? Her hands clenched into fists so hard that her nails felt as though they'd break skin. 

"What did I  do  to you?!" 

Petunia looked at her then, as though she couldn't even be bothered with their conversation. She set the brush down and picked up a tube of mascara, unscrewing it and wiping it carefully over her eyelashes. 

Lily felt childish, like a little kid. Her eyes welled with angry tears. How could she be so unaffected? Why wasn't she upset? Didn't she feel it? Didn't she feel that gaping hole in her chest, down to her bone? She stomped over and took the peach-colored tube from her hand. 

Finally, she looked up, genuinely. Petunia's nostrils were flared, and she stood up so suddenly that Lily took a step back. Her sister walked past her, but before she could leave the room Lily whipped around. 

“I’m sorry!” Lily exclaimed desperately, “I’m sorry about the wake, and Hogwarts, and dad, and whatever else I did to make you hate me!” 

She was sure then that she'd never felt smaller. It was such a juvenile thing, so oddly embarrassing.  I miss my sister. I miss my dad. I want to go home. 

Petunia whirled around, eyes flaring dangerously. “Oh perfect little Lily is finally feeling a little  sad  is that it?”

“Why don’t you care?! He died!” She threw her arms up, she felt the emotions she spent all summer push down bubble up inside her like a shaken bottle of pop.  “All he did was try, and care for us, and lov-”

“You weren’t there! You’re the one that left. The entire time he was sick it was YOU–” She cut herself off abruptly, bringing her shaking hands in a prayer to her forehead. “ You left us.” 

Lily stumbled back as if she’d been slapped. She could feel the words deep in her soul. The way Petunia said ‘You’, like her very nature, was a curse in itself. 

And it was true. All of it was true. She didn’t have to go to Hogwarts, she knew her father was sick. But she went anyway. Despite Petunia’s pleas that she stay behind, she left. 

“He wanted me to go.” Lily’s voice comes out small, broken. 

”Well, he always loved you more. Didn’t he?” Petunia quipped, laughing venomously, without humor. “His perfect little angel went off to Hogwarts, and left me with the rot! ”

Her voice broke when she yelled that last sentence, filling with venom as her eyes welled with tears.

“I’m  glad ,” Her sister continued “That you didn’t have to see him die. But I will always hate you for that.” And then the final twist: 

And she looked at Petunia, really truly looked at her, perhaps for the first time. Her head of elegant blonde curls that matched their fathers, the sharp edge to her tone. The way she always walked with her arms crossed over her chest. That air of maturity she always had, not just because she was older, but because she’d been through something awful. 

Her room was so impersonal, so grown. But she was only eighteen. 

Lily understood it then, in a wave of soul crushing clarity. The entire summer she spent planning things on her own, watching her mother decay, was exactly what Petunia had done for the past four years. While Lily ran around with her friends at Hogwarts, exploring an entire new world at her fingertips, Petunia was there. Lily grew, Petunia was forced to grow faster. 

The worst part is that Petunia was right, her parents always treated her like she was a miracle. They loved Petunia, sure, but they didn’t praise her like they praised Lily.  

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” It was all she could say, the tears falling without her control, even if her voice was blank with shock.

Petunia’s expression softened in a way she hadn’t seen in years. “I am too.” ”Believe me Lily,our father is a much happier man in the grave.”

And then she left, leaving Lily standing there with nothing but the waning sun behind her.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

Petunia was a little bit nicer after that, and it made her feel awful. There was something tragic in the way it floated between them. They never spoke about it again, but there was a lingering sense of  'Well, now you know.' that hung in the air. It strangled her, as if it were filled with poison, and suddenly her guilt had thorns.

Lily swallowed the guilt like a large pill, and actively tried to not let it consume her every time her sister poured her coffee, or responded when she said something.

 “Go off with your little girlfriend,” Petunia would say. 

Then she’d reach into the pocket of her cardigan and light another cigarette while she walked on down to the ladies meeting at the chapel. But there was no real venom to it, she just got the feeling that it hurt Petunia to talk to her as much as it did her. She took what she could get, and did everything in her power to not think about what it meant. 

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

There was one day, during that summer, where they invited everyone over. Mum went off for a few days to Lily’s aunts house, and Petunia was at Vernon’s for the weekend. It took a lot of convincing from both of the girls (and Jane), Lily was awfully scared of how Severus would react to having ‘The Boys’ in town, but she missed Remus and Peter enough to relent. 

“Okay! Okay!” Lily put her hands up, laughing resignedly “Just make sure Potter and Black are on their best behaviors, tell them I won’t hesitate to send them back to whatever hole they crawled out of.” She’d said to Marlene, who grinned around her cigarette and eyed Mary in victory. 

They spent hours getting ready while they were on their way. Surprisingly, Marlene didn’t find it ridiculous like she thought she would. Instead she sat lying on Lily’s bed, Jane perched next to her in the corner, by the speaker with a book in her hand giving small comments of feedback. 

She had a feeling that Mary didn’t actually give a toss what they thought of her, but she always thought it was fun to ‘get ready’, the whole process. 

Lily wore bell bottoms she got from her mum’s closet, and a black halter top. It was a colorful time, the seventies, but none of them tended to dress that way. Mary was always fawning over the indie magazines, going on and on about the sultry style that some women were going for. And she followed her lead, because of course she did. 

Regardless, Mary did her hair with practiced efficiency. She did her eyeliner too, which had Lily’s heart doing funny cartwheels in her chest. 

The Boys got off the train with a flourish, laughing and shoving each other acting as if everything was an inside joke. They all matured a bit during the summer. Remus grew taller, which she thought was impossible. Peter's hair grew out, tiny curls falling below the tips of his ears, which held piercings now. Sirius was adorned with a leather jacket and eyeliner, which was new. Apparently he had to create an elaborate lie that he was going to the Pettigrew's that weekend just to get his parents off his back. 

“Lily Evans,” James marveled when he saw her. A little breathless, which she thought was dramatic, “Please go out with me. I’ll die! I can wait no longer! I yearn, Lily! I yearn!” 

He ‘wept’ against Sirius’ shoulder, who consoled him with equal dramatics and looked at her like she’d gone and killed his dog. 

He also matured though, it was clear he'd been practicing quiddich. He was definitely broader, and she could see light golden freckles across his nose like little sun-kisses. Not that she was looking. Obviously. 

“Unusually big words Potter.” Lily replied off-handedly, more concerned with greeting Remus who trailed after his friends with a limp. He lit up when he saw her though, and gave her a side hug while still holding onto his cane. He only used it during the summer, because he didn't have spells to keep his hip from knocking itself out of place. There was a new scar on his face, but he was still Remus, and it was awfully refreshing to see him.

He’d told her, the year before, about his condition. It had been a rough night spent in the library, and he was particularly upset. Lily didn’t care one bit that he was a werewolf, and honestly was kind of vexed with herself for not realizing it sooner, if only so she could help him. He wouldn’t tell her how, but he said he already had help and assured her that she didn’t have to worry. Either way, she hugged him and walked him back to his room. 

She turned to Sirius, having a sudden suspicion. "Black." He turned over to her from where he was talking to Marls and Jane innocently. 

"Yes Evans?" He batted his eyebrows playfully, and in turn she put her hands on her hips. His grin turned slightly maniacal and she could hear Peter stifling a laugh. 

"Empty your pockets." 

Sirius reeled back with faux offense, "Now why would I-" 

"Accio," Jane said suddenly, startling Lily. Four large dung bombs flew at her feet. If she's honest, she forgot that Jane was a witch entirely. Wandlessly, she worked up a concealment charm so the ministry didn't detect it. She arched an eyebrow at Sirius, who was now nearly gnawing at his finger to stop from laughing. 

He gasped. "Now who put those there..."

Once they'd greeted one another and made the walk back to Lily's house to drop off their bags, they huddled in her small kitchen. Mary and Lily made decent headway in her dad liquor cabinet alone, but after everything she started properly utilizing her fake to buy her own alcohol. They had to do it sporadically, so that the cashiers wouldn't get suspicious, but between the two of them and all of London they managed to gather quite the stash. 

James put on a Kinks record, letting it play throughout the room as he danced. The rest of them busied themselves. It was around noon, so the girls put the boys to work preparing lunch while they made drinks. It took a bit of trial and error, but Mary and her found the perfect formula for the drinks they liked. The boys groaned at their 'fruity' drinks lightheartedly. And they roll their eyes and force them to drink them anyway. 

Apparently, James learned how to cook the muggle way from his parents. He didn't have everything worked out properly, but Remus picked up where he lacked. Sirius and Peter, however, were equally bad at something for once. They laughed themselves in stitches (almost literally) as they horribly chopped up lettuce, that took them far longer than it should've. 

The girls sat on the counter, talking idly and making loud demanding commands to the boys when they fancied. They all made a game of being overly chivalrous, falling at their feet and swooning as if they'd just asked for a hand in marriage. 

It all made her feel a little bubbly. She thought that James and Sirius were idiots then, but she knew that they were on their best behavior for her. She chalked her fondness down to the alcohol though. 

After they'd made several bacon rolls they took a couple of wine bottles down to the creek. They had a couple of hours to blow before the gig they planned to catch later, and Sirius was buzzing with excitement at getting to see his first muggle band. James seemed excited too, albeit less, while Peter just looked a bit sick from the alcohol, all red in the face. It was such a foreign thing to her. The girls all grew up with muggles, so it was odd for all of them to be around people who were so interested in mundane things. 

They insisted they stop by a phone booth they saw on the way, and Mary cheekily gave Sirius the number to the cranky old lady who lived down the street. So they had the pleasure of witnessing 'Sirius Black, Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black' get chewed out by a woman shorter than 5 feet. 

Marlene pulled Jane into the water as soon as they got there, picking her up by her waist and running while she squealed. Sirius and James seemed to think that was great fun, stripping down to their pants mid-run in what appeared to be a race. Lily rolled her eyes and set the picknick basket down on the blanket Mary rolled out. The remaining boys seemed to be content with lying down, Remus lounging under the sun like a cat. Peter was reclined on his hands.

"You sure you don't want to go out with them?" Mary addressed the boys idly. Lily absentmindedly picked the tomatoes off her friend's sandwich before handing it to her. 

Remus craned his neck, opening his eyes just in time to see Marlene holding James' head underwater, yelling at him to surrender. They really were just like siblings. 

"Oh, yeah, looks like an awful good time." 

"M' gonna go out later," Peter mumbled, crumbs sticking to his chin. 

Mary, who had only taken a few bites of her food, tipped the bottle of wine back and took a long gulp. Some cheesy disco song was playing from the radio Marls brought from home, sounding muddled from the static. The conversation became idle, everybody seemed mostly content to relax in the sun. Lily felt an almost overwhelming absence of emotions, even though everything seemed to glitter under the surface of her skin. 

Lily was flat on her back with her eyes closed, feet flung over Remus' ankles when Mary rolled onto her elbows, leaning directly over her face. She took her thumb and smoothed out the crease between her eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes fluttered open and her heart kicked painfully in her chest. Her head could never quite process her emotions, but her heart always knew. "Summers' ending soon." <

Stay like this forever. Stay with me.

She remembers thinking, somewhere floating between the back and front of her mind, that Mary looked lovely in the sun. Her eyes were outlined with kohl, and golden shimmering eyeshadow. And she  glowed , everything about her shone. 

"That's the rumor.." Mary's eyes glinted conspiratorially, and her smile was positively radiant. 

"Thank you..." Her cheeks felt ridiculously hot. "For everything." 

It hurt her head a bit, thinking about everything her friend had done for her that summer. She never complained, not about any of it. That's what really made her see her differently, if she had to put a time-stamp on it. Because she never felt more loved by a person than she did then, more known, more cherished. It felt so immovable then. She couldn't even visualize a world where they weren't as close as they were then. It was as if, to her, they  couldn't . They were soul-tied, forever. 

"'Course." Mary pivoted, plopping her head down on Lily's stomach. "You know, my dad thinks we're soulmates."

Yes, that's the word. 

"Like, you know the myth right?" She wasn't even looking at her but somehow she seemed to sense Lily nodding her head. "I told him about it, the one about the souls being split in half. Back in ancient times. He said it reminded him of us. I thought it was funny, but you're like, my best friend." 

She felt chills all over her body, and a thrill ran up her spine. Lily shoved it down, every last bit of it. Every part of her that felt the blush creep up her neck.

"McGongall's making me a prefect next year." Lily cringed at herself for changing the subject, but it had bothered her ever since she got the letter.

Mary propped herself up again, on one elbow. "Obviously," She rolled her eyes playfully, "Slughorn's all over you. I'm surprised they didn't make you head girl early."

It was true, ever since she got accepted into the Slug Club third year the Slytherin Head had taken a liking to her. She knew she'd be accepted into his club as soon as she heard about it. It was clear that it would help her move forward, as it was considered a huge achievement at the time. So Lily made great work of talking to him about how hard it was to be a muggle-born, and how nobody  took her seriously. It was all true, of course, but she knew that men like Slughorn loved to feel good about themselves. Lily was fine being a charity case, so long as it benefitted her more. If she's honest he creeped her out a bit, but he was helpful when she needed it. 

"We're still going to spend time together right? You won't let me spend all my time catching people snogging in broom cupboards?" She joked, but her fears were evident. 

Her friend gave her a sad, adoring smile. "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried Lils. I could never lose you."

Immediately, as if her body sensed the sincerity of her words, she calmed down. Her hands stopped shaking, as if she'd taken a calming drought. Mary put her head back on Lily's stomach. 

"Mary?" 

"Hm?"

"I can't lose you either." 

Mary smiled, eyelashes brushing her cheeks, up at the clouds. Laughter drifted up over the music, and the butterflies flew overhead.

We'll be okay ,  thought, just before she drifted off.  

We're going to be okay. 

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ 

The gig was fun, some new indie band they'd never heard of. The lead vocalist was a man with scruffy brunette hair with a full face of make up on, which she'd never seen before. There was a bar at the venue, Mary confidently strode over with Marlene and ordered them drinks. By some miracle it worked, and she came back with eight glasses. They were already half-way drunk, that entire day really. 

They must've dusted off at least four bottles of wine between the eight of them, but even after the extra drinks Sirius slipped a bottle of firewhisky out from his leather jacket before the band came on. 

They were all genuinely pissed by the time the set started. The lights were turned low, smoke visible in the air as the lights flashed in front of them. 'The man who stole the world' by Bowie was played first, because apparently they were a cover band. The lack of originals didn't matter though, Remus was nearly as feral as his friends at the sound of his idol.

Lily followed Mary's lead, mostly. She swayed her hips, and Mary took her hands, giggling as she pulled them from side to side. Her pupils were blown wide, searching Lily's face as if she'd find an answer. 

She's beautiful,

She thought, laughing, when Mary spun her around.

God. She's beautiful .

It was like there was nobody else there. She's sure that the music could've stopped and she wouldn't even notice. People crashed into her left and right, her drink went missing. But she had no desire to go and find it. Lily could barely even hear the music as they held eye contact, but she felt it. God, did she feel it. It was in her soul, vibrating throughout her veins. 

Mary's eyes were so dark, nearly black. She could've looked at them forever, she could drown in them. It was so easy to get lost in it. The feeling of her body pressed against hers, and then off, then on again. 

There was a moment, and it happened so slow, where Mary pressed her forehead against Lily's.

And then: "Shit! Pete!" James' voice broke through the music, and she rolled her eyes without meaning to. Mary pulled herself away, and even though they were surrounded by people she felt cold all over. 

Lily's irritation was quickly overcome, though, as she saw why James was yelling. Peter was slumped on Marlene awkwardly, face beet red, blacked out. She hadn't even seen him drink that much, but Sirius had a habit of starting awfully dangerous drinking games. Actually, Sirius himself was looking a bit dead on his feet. 

They all made their way outside, dragging Peter with them, who could barely keep his eyes open. Sirius slung an arm around James' shoulder, his eyes closed. Lily felt herself slip into her leadership voice. "Mary, call a taxi for the rest of you. I'll help Potter with Black, and we'll meet back up. Okay?" She wanted Mary to get back first, because it was cold, and she didn't trust James and Sirius together. 

None of them seemed in the mood to argue, Mary immediately went down the street to look for taxis. 

James looked as though he'd just won the lottery, grinning dopily at her as she slipped her arm under Sirius' shoulder, taking half of his weight. It wouldn't be that far of a walk, they were at a fairly local venue, but they were three drunk fifteen year-olds. Sirius was dragging his feet, barely awake. Although the streets of London were fairly rowdy at night, it was a stark difference from the music before. Her head felt heavy in silence, like she couldn't quite grasp onto her thoughts even though she knew they were there.

"I think it's nice of you."

"Hm?"

"Helping Sirius. You're always doing that, helping people." 

Lily wasn't sure if that was true. She tried her best, but it never felt like enough. She always had this feeling that she should be doing more. 

The wind picked up before she could answer and she shivered, James perked up. "Do you want my jacket?" 

"It's fi-" Lily didn't get to finish her sentence, because James was already weaseling out of his jacket with one hand and attempting to drape it over her shoulders. She buckled a bit when Sirius' weight fell on her, but she held up. 

"Don't need it anyways," He beamed at her, the gap between his front teeth gleaming, "All these muscles keep me warm." James made a show of flexing with his free arm. 

She laughed, despite herself. It bubbled up in her throat and overflowed, she tried to stop it with her free hand. Everything felt so funny under those yellow lights, with the alcohol in her system. 

"I made you laugh!" He was delighted, and shouted, "I MADE LILY EVANS LAUGH!" 

With Lily's free hand, she covered his mouth. He bit her finger playfully, and she rolled her eyes though she couldn't even contain her laughter. "You're a prat." 

James fell behind slightly, and she didn’t notice until she almost pulled Sirius from his arms entirely. His laughter died down before she even really processed it. She stopped, confused. His brows were knitted together, lips pressed in a thin line. “Why do you always say that?” 

He said it like he was genuinely confused, exasperated even. James continued after a moment like he couldn’t stop himself, “Because if it’s about Snivillus, he’s done far worse. I mean he made Marlene cr-“

”I know.” She said sternly, cringing at the memory. 

Lily never heard it, but she remembers the fat, angry tears from Marlene’s eyes and her clenched fists. She didn’t talk to Severus for a week after that, but Marlene walked into their dorm one day: ‘Bloody hell, Evans, don’t do me any favors. If it’s makin’ you so fuckin’ miserable, go speak to him.’’

”I know. ” She repeated, making sure he understood. “It’s not just him. I’m not dense, you know, it’s not as if I don’t see what he’s doing.”

“Then what is it?!” 

“Really, Potter.” She deadpanned, her eyes narrowing. Was he really that dense?

James looked as though he was about to rip his hair out. “Yes!” He exclaimed, immediately quieting down and looking about the quiet neighborhood before continuing in a quieter, but firmer tone. “Yes. I don’t understand.” 

Lily stared at him, taking a step closer. “Just because you do nice things for people you like, does not mean that you’re allowed to do whatever you please to everybody else. You and Black are just as bad as each other. You want to know why? Because you see everybody else as cardboard boxes.  Everything  is black and white with you. Slytherin, bad. Gryffindor, good.”

He scoffed, but she continued anyway, determined to make her point. “You go around the hallways as if you’re completely morally just, and you have free rein to decide who deserves to be  punished  because of your preconceived notions. Did you ever consider that  maybe  that third year Slytherin you hexed made a snide comment because he’s thirteen? That maybe, just maybe, isolating people only makes them more likely to shut themselves off? 

“You’ve already labeled them as bad, so why wouldn’t they be? They can’t prove you wrong, so why not prove you right? You don’t actually care about muggle-borns. Sure you like some of us, but it’s all a game to you, really. But you know what Potter?”

He looked dumbfounded, completely at a loss for words. “When you go hexing people in the hallways, they don’t stop. You know what they do? They go find a first year  mudblood  to take it out on.” 

Lily knew she was being harsh. Really, James was good to her, but in the grand scheme of things she wasn’t wrong. And he needed to hear it.

For a second, though, she remembered how her father used to lash out. He would never yell, but his words always cut deep. 

James opened his mouth and closed it several times, and she didn’t break eye contact until he spoke. “I never thought of it like that.” 

She might have softened, but she was tired of giving people grace. But that was the point, he couldn’t only be good to the people he liked. He couldn’t walk around with the authority to pass judgement on people. He didn’t  have  to think of it that way, because he was born a rich pureblood. And that would always set them apart. James didn’t need to fight like she did. 

“Obviously.” 

They were saved by Sirius stirring in his sleep, preoccupying them, but they didn’t speak the entire way home.