ice machines

It’s probably best to go to the very back of the wardrobe, Lily figures, so that even if Filtch opens the door, he might not spot her. She shoves her way through the heavy fur coats with a grunt and a curse. This is so stupid. What, exactly, is the plan, here? Are they just going to pretend that they hadn’t been inside when the vase broke? That it had just broken itself?

She’s too busy giving out in her own head to notice how unnaturally long the wardrobe is until something cold pokes at her. She pauses and frowns. The wardrobe isn’t that deep, is it? And what was that? She can see a small crack of light now, but not from behind her, where the wardrobe is still slightly open, but ahead. Maybe, she thinks with delight, the wardrobe is actually a secret passage – the house is probably old and big enough to have them. She pushes forward more eagerly now, a little thrilled by the idea, sparing a thought for James, who is surely going to be devastated when he finds out he missed this discovery. The thrill that takes her over is the only excuse she has for not recognizing that the coats she was pushing through have been replaced until she pushes through them all and finds herself amongst pine trees instead with snow falling softly between them from a cloudy grey sky above.

Now, Lily grew up in what had to be the most boring part of London in one of the most normal boring families in what was probably the world. She is not the sort of girl who walks through a wardrobe into a snowy forest and doesn’t very seriously consider if she is going mad. But she is not the kind of girl who leaves either. She takes a few hesitant steps into the snow, the amazement holding off the shock of her socked feet on the cold. She can’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh, stretching her hands out to catch the falling flakes.

It's snowing.

In McGonagall’s wardrobe.

She laughs again, and twirls around as she walks further in, a warm strange feeling in her stomach. She takes a deep breath, feeling the sharp cold in her lungs. Real.

Magic, magic, magic.

And Lily knew it. She knew it. This is the place she’s been looking for around corners and down strange alleyways and in bushes and trees and gaps in stone. The missing feeling in her chest. This is it. She’d been right. It’s such a relief she has to lean against a tree, then jumps away immediately from the wet snow now drenching her side. When Petunia had rolled her eyes at her search for faeries in the back garden when they were younger, had scoffed at the idea of witches and voices in the wind and lost forgotten places, she’d been wrong.

Lily just hadn’t expected it to be so cold.

She’s already shivering. But that doesn’t matter – can’t matter when she has just discovered a world in a wardrobe.She considers running back to get the others but – selfishly – she wants this just for herself, just for a little moment. She’s been waiting and looking for so long and it’s hushed and quiet and waiting this world. It feels like it’s been waiting for her just as much as she’s been waiting for it.

She takes a few steps further in, breathing the comforting smell of pine in deeply. A soft glow of light catches her attention and she follows it through the trees with a cautious glance backwards. She trusts her sense of direction but she doesn’t want to get lost here no wonder how miraculous it is. The light turns out to be a lamppost. One of those gorgeous, old, handsomely decorated ones, standing solemnly in the middle of an otherwise empty clearing, seemingly not illuminating anything of note. An odd place to put a lamppost in the middle of this silent watchful forest.

Lily’s footsteps leave deep marks in the snow as she walks up to it. The metal is surprisingly warm to touch and the light snow that reaches it melts immediately. She hugs it quickly, thoughtlessly, forgetting herself for a moment, for warmth, before pulling back, mildly embarrassed with a quick glance around at the still watchful trees in case someone caught her in the act – and lets out a startled, embarrassed yelp when there is indeed a pair of eyes watching from the safety of the treeline. The person – who had just been stepping out into the clearing, lets out a similarly startled sound and promptly drops everything they had been holding.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Lily apologizes, hurrying over to help pick up the assortment of brown paper packages up from the snow. When confused dark brown eyes look up to meet hers, she briefly wonders if maybe they don’t speak English here but that worry flies out of her head when the stranger reaches up to pull down her hood and the scarf that covers half her face and –

Oh she’s beautiful. Gorgeous dark curls haloing a face made for being painted or carved or immortalized in some way. Wide round eyes with thick long lashes, round flushed cheeks and delicate lips. Lily cant breathe.

“Hi,” she whispers, rising slowly back to her feet, three packages clutched in her hands.

“Hello,” says the other girl, standing too. Which is good because… because English! Although her voice has an almost musical sense to it, a slight accent that makes it sound as if they’re really speaking in two completely different languages after all. “I didn’t expect to see anyone out… I’m, I’m sorry but who are you?”

“Oh,” says Lily, “Well, I’m Lily.” There’s a slight pause after statement where the other girl just looks at her, unamused. “Lily Evans,” she tries.

“Right,” says the stranger slowly, “And what are you Lily Evans?” What did that mean?

“A… human?” she replies stupidly but the other girl freezes, blanching.

“What?”

“A human,” she repeats, “Like… a human being? A um, homosapien? Or uh, well what exactly do you mean?”

“Really? You’re human?”

“Yes?’

“You’re a real human girl, a daughter of eve?”

“Yes I’m human. I promise – um, aren’t you?” The girl looks at her blankly, then down at the packages in her hands, then back up at Lily. A strange look passes over her face before completely melting away.

“Don’t humans get cold? You’re shivering,” she smiles.

“They do,” admits Lily slowly looking the girl up and down, she looks human.

“I’m Mary, I’m the hedgewitch of this part of the woods,” she straightens a little, attempting to square her shoulders but she’s holding to many packages and quickly has to readjust when she almost drops one. A witch? “My place is only a moment away – would you like to come over and warm up? I have tea.” Her cheeks dimple when she smiles and Lily hesitates but … she is cold and she’s in a magical land she got to from a wardrobe and she doesn’t want to leave yet. What better way to learn about the place then to talk to a native? She returns Mary’s smile with one of her own and a decided nod.

“That would be lovely.”

The witch brightens.

“Amazing, come on then.” She offers her arm and they link elbows like old friends but Lily insists on carrying the packages she had picked up instead of placing them precariously on the pile in her other arm. The trees rustle and murmur as they walk and Lily strains to hear them more clearly – it, it almost sounds like they could be speaking – could that be a thing here? Talking trees? A thrill runs through her at the idea but Mary glances worriedly around them as they walk, pulling her quickly through the trees and she wonders uneasily instead if there are wolves around. Or something worse? If Mary really is a witch and witches and magic are real does that mean that other things were? Like …werewolves? She suddenly feels grateful for her companion’s quick pace even though the woods around them remain dead silent except for the rustling of the trees and their own footsteps and breathing.

Thankfully, they reach their destination quickly, their destination being … a small cliffside?

“Um,” begins Lily, but as they reach the stone a rounded wooden door painted in a chipping cherry red appears. “Oh!”

Mary smiles at her delight and lets her take the packages as she roots around in her cloak pockets for a key. She holds the door open for Lily who slips into a small, cozy sitting room. A gorgeous fireplace dominates the right hand wall, decorated with pretty flower painted tiles and framed by two massive and gloriously comfortable looking armchairs. Everything is painted in a warm feminine colour scheme of pretty reds, pinks and yellows and it has the clutter and comfort of a real home. Lily swallows against the lump in the back of her throat.

Mary closes the door quickly behind herself and gestures for Lily to leave her packages on the main wooden oval table, bustling over to the fireplace. Within seconds a fire is roaring. Lily instinctively follows the heat, kneeling down to warm her hands in front of the flames.

“I’ll go grab some tea and – oh! I think I have some fruit cakes,” Mary calls, pulling off her cloak and disappearing into a different room as Lily inches as close to the fire as possible, feeling her limbs slowly and painfully coming back to life. She looks around her curiously as she does. There’s a framed portrait above the fireplace of an elderly woman who looks a lot like Mary, a pile books and lose pages on the floor behind her and several jumpers strewn around the place. Despite the portrait, there’s no sign of anyone else other than Mary living here.

Mary comes back a few minutes later, freed from her outside layers, now in a loose knitted sweater and skirt and carrying a tray. She puts the pot – a monstrous, ugly thing that looks as though it’s been broken and fixed a good few times, including with brass when the ceramic piece that had broken off was either too broken or lost – completely at odds with the pretty china set she lays on a stool beside Lily.

“So,” she says, curling into one of armchairs and tucking her feet underneath her. “You’re not from Hogwarts then?” Lily reluctantly parts from the fire to sit on the other armchair and nods.

“I came here through a wardrobe. I think this might be a completely different world from the one I come from.” The look Mary gives her tells her this is not usual here either but she doesn’t interrupt or seem not to believe her. “I come from London but I left to flee the war and me and my –“ how could she explain Marlene, Remus and James? – “my friends, we’re staying at this professors house, she was an old friend of my mothers. We were just … well I ended up in the wardrobe. I was- I was pretty surprised to find this.”

“A war?” says Mary and Lily immediately feels stupid. Of course, in this different world, universe… place, a war back in her world wouldn’t exactly be common knowledge. She’d just grown so used to it being anything anyone talked about.

“There’s… a big war,” she explains lamely and Mary nods.

“So you got sent away from your family.”

“Yes.”

“Do you miss them?”

Lily shifts uncomfortably and looks away from the witch for the first time since she sat down to stare instead at the fire.

“Not really,” she whispers, guilt turning her stomach. Shed been so relieved to leave. She’s not really sure what it is about Mary that makes her admit this out loud for the first time. “My dad – he was a soldier and he, well, he died, really early on and, well, I guess he, he was the one who actually wanted children, who liked children so… and my sister never really liked me much.” Or she had but it’s easier to pretend the way things are between them now is the way they’d always been. Mary must sense she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore than that because she simply nods and removes the pot from the fire, serving them both.

“Thanks,” Lily murmurs gratefully, picking up her cup with both hands, “What’s with the pot?”

“What?” Defensively. Lily gives her a look and Mary sighs.

“It was my grandmothers.” Pride and grief flash through her face but Lily doesn’t comment, just nods. “How many of your friends live with you and the professor?” Mary asks as Lily takes a sip of tea. It’s delicious.

“Three – two boys, Remus and James, and another girl, Marlene.”

“That must be nice.”

“It is,” Lily smiles. “I didn’t know them before – just last week when we arrived but I already feel like, well like I’ve known them forever. You know when you meet someone new and you just know you’re going to know them forever? Or that you really want to, at least.” Mary nods seriously and she feels herself blushing.

“How come?” she asks, “Why with them?’

“Oh” Lily hadn’t really thought of it much before, it had felt sort of inevitable really. “Well I suppose we just get on. We laugh a lot. James is probably one of the best people I know, he’s very… warm, even though he’s always up to mischief. And Marlene, she’s the first girl I’ve really clicked with, I was never very good at it, except for –“ Petunia “-anyway, she’s, well she’s a bit crazy actually I think, but she’s interesting. And Remus, I get on with him the best. I, this is a bit stupid, but I feel very safe with him. He’s terribly awkward but terribly intelligent too and – well yes. Um. I suppose that’s why.” Mary watches her intently this whole speech, a small smile growing on her lips.

“They sound lovely.”

“They are,” says Lily, relaxing a bit more into her armchair and taking another long gulp of tea. “The real reason I ended up in the wardrobe is because Remus accidentally broke – and I mean completely smashed - a century old precious vase of flowers.”

“What?” Mary lets out a startled laugh and she nods with a grin, although her heart rate picks up slightly at the mention alone.

“Yeah – we were having a paper aeroplane contest and, well he’s just very unlucky poor sod, his aeroplane toppled the whole thing over by hitting it at just the right angle.” She mimes it out with her hands, putting her cup in between her legs. “There was a moment when we were all just… looking at it, flowers all over the floor and then we all just ran. I hid in the wardrobe.”

“Real flowers?” asks Mary blinking wide-eyed and Lily frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“Were they real flowers, in the vase?”

“Of course,” says Lily, confused – she hadn’t expected that to be the biggest takeaway of her story.

“So its spring in your world?” asks Mary wistfully.

“Summer.” Lily pauses. “Do you not get spring and summer here?” How odd!

Mary shakes her head and she looks almost angry for a brief moment before it melts into longing so quickly Lily can convince herself it was just the jumping light and shadows of the fire. “No, we only have winter here now ever since… for decades. I’ve never seen a real flower but my grandmother used to tell me stories…”

“What never?” repeats Lily shocked, “Not even a lily?” This makes Mary smile but it’s a sad sort of smile as she shakes her head. “Well I’ll bring you one next time I come back,” she promises, thinking of all the flowers in McGonagall’s garden. She could bring more than just lilies.

“Really?” says Mary straightening in surprise, “You would?”

“Of course – you brought me here for shelter from the cold and gave me tea, it’s the least I could do. Besides were friends now,” says Lily with confidence she doesn’t completely feel. Four new friends in a week seems ambitious for someone who has always been slightly too odd for real friends.

“Oh,” says Mary, “But I thought you were – I mean.” She looks troubled for a moment before shaking her head. “That would be lovely” Her smile looks genuine and less sad now.

“What stories would your grandmother tell?” Lily asks, looking to the picture above the fire and Marys smile deepens further.

“Oh, ones of the old Hogwarts, before the – the winter. When the tress used to whisper and even walk and the fawns and dryads and nymphs would host dances deep in the woods and the dragons still flew up above…”

Mary is a very good storyteller. A gift Lily imagines she got from her grandmother. She repeats her old stories almost reverently, tea forgotten beside her as she weaves tales of old prophecies and talking animals, betrayals and friendships, old castles and customs, wild and magical people, dragons, dancing and dreams. Werewolves, vampires, wizards and witches, giants and faeries, kings and queens, centaurs and fauns. Lily listens captivated until Marys voice grows hoarse and tired.

“Your grandmother must’ve been a good storyteller,” she says sleepily, “For you to remember it all so well.”

“She was,” Mary whispers, “I loved her a lot. I always wanted another story. She had so many of them, I’ve forgotten some.” Lily swallows past the lump in her throat and has to look away from the grief on her companions face to the dwindling fire.

“I’m sorry,” she offers, “The ones you know you tell very well.” Mary only hums in response. She hesitates before asking, “Do you live alone?”

Mary immediately tenses and draws back into herself and Lily curses herself in her head.

“I do.”

An awkward silence follows full of Lily silently berating herself for asking an obviously sensitive question.

“I have honey cakes too,” Mary says suddenly, shaking herself slightly and picking the plate off the tray to offer to Lily. “Homemade.”

It feels rude to refuse, even though she isn’t particularly hungry, and they look and smell lovely so Lily takes an obedient bite and moans outright at the sweet floral and honey taste before quickly covering her mouth and blushing.

“I’m so sorry, they’re so lovely.”

“Thank you,” Marys answering chuckle seems nervous but Lily doesn’t have much time to think about it because she’s so tired … so … heavy… hands.. loose.. warm… heavy.

When Lily wakes up the fire is out. The warm cozy atmosphere has been replaced by something cold and tense – dark with only one small window letting in the faded winter light. She blinks slowly, body still mostly asleep and heavy but the eery feeling of the room has her shaking it off quickly and moving, dropping the tea cup she’d fallen asleep holding and forgotten about and shattering it on the floor. She looks up from it slowly and meets Mary – who’d been pacing along the wall – ‘s eyes. While Lily feels well rested, Mary looks like she’s lost sleep in the time since Lily was out, eyes wide and stressed, making the circles under them look deeper.

She looks haunted.

            “How long was I asleep?” Lily asks, then again, more frantic, when she doesn’t respond, “How long was I asleep for, Mary?”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “I should get back,” says Lily, scrambling out of her armchair, now thoroughly spooked, “They’ll be wondering where I am.” James would be losing his mind – she only hopes they haven’t said anything to McGonagall yet. Mary shakes her head as Lily stands and puts out a hand out to stabilise herself when the world spins, her knees going weak.

            “Did you poison me?”

            “What?! No! no, no I just..” Mary trails off awkwardly, wincing.

“Just what?”

“Well I may have poisoned you a little, but only with a sleeping draught!”

“Only,” Lily repeats in disbelief, “Only with – you can’t just poison someone ‘a little’, you either do – or you don’t. And you did!”

“That’s dramatic,” says Mary and Lily stops and gapes at her.

“You poisoned me for no reason but I’m being dramatic? I’m leaving.”

“No.”

“No?”

Mary winces.

“I might be – I’m kidnapping you.”

“You’re kidnapping me.”

“Yes.”

“We’re the same age!”

“You’re an ENEMY OF THE KINGDOM!” erupts Mary and silence follows.

“An enemy of the kingdom,” Lily repeats eventually, nausea rising, “I’ve barely been in the kingdom.”

“I know. I know, ok? That’s why I haven’t called them yet but” – she sighs, shoulders slumping, all the fight leaving her – “you’re human. So… so you’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? I’m dangerous?” She makes a face and suddenly, despite how serious the witch looks, Lily finds herself laughing. She’s never been called dangerous before. Mary stops whatever moral dilemma she’s going through to stare at her losing her mind and before Lily knows it, they’re both laughing. Hysterically. But when they finish gasping from breath, tears coming from her eyes, between giggles, they’re still left staring at each other from across the room.

“Why am I your enemy?” asks Lily and her voice sounds very small. She can tell, could tell the moment you looked her like a freak. You shouldn’t be welcome anywhere.

“You’re not my enemy,” says Mary quickly, taking a step forward before stopping and looking at the floor with a frown. Her next words come out slow and careful. “Humans are just – humans aren’t allowed in NARNIA. They’re, well, you’re dangerous. Apparently. And just – well you are dangerous to me, if she finds out that I saw you, that you were here and I didn’t hand you in…”

“If who found out?” Lily glances at the door, dread mounting. The fear on Mary’s face when she looks up can’t be anything but very real.

“The queen.” The air feels colder as she hesitates.

“I could explain that it was all an accident,” Lily rushes out, “I could – I could talk to someone, show them the wardrobe, I could –“ But Mary is shaking her head.

“No, that won’t -  no. No, I’m, I’m –“ and she squares her shoulders and lifts her shin. Like she’s preparing for battle, even though Lily can see her shaking hands. “I’m going to let you go.”

It goes quiet after that as the two girls just look at each other.

“What about you?” Lily whispers. She doesn’t really understand what’s going on, why humans aren’t allowed or who this queen is but she can understand the look in Mary’s eyes. She’s so scared. Mary just shakes her head, swallowing and looking away. She takes a moment, taking a deep breath before she leaps unsteadily into action, grabbing and throwing a cloak in Lily’s direction, hurriedly pulling her own on, nearly spilling all remaining the tea when she grabs it and brings it into the kitchen at a near run.

“Let’s go, go, go, go and Lily –“ she stops, her hand on the door, “- as quiet and careful as possible, ok? Some of the birds are on her side.” Lily nods. Birds?

The journey back to the wardrobe is nothing like the one away from it. The snow has picked up and they’re rushing, hand in hand though she doesn’t remember reaching for the other girl, stumbling through the thickening snow with worried looks around themselves. Instead of the curious delight shed previously felt, Lily feels sick. Finally, finally, they reach the lamppost, still shining alone in its clearing.

“Ok,” says Mary, “Ok, good – go.” And Lily freezes, the panic receding as fast as it had come as she turns to her companion, her face snow-dusted despite her hood, frost clinging to her cheeks and eyelashes, her eyes wide and scared. She glances towards where she knows the wardrobe waits then back at Mary. Courage, Lily.

“I’m glad that I met you,” she stumbles out, “Despite, despite… everything.”

“Oh,” says Mary and she opens then closes her mouth, lips twitching into a smile. Lily nods, takes a deep breath for just another moment of bravery and kisses her on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispers, pulling off her borrowed cloak and pushing it into Mary’s arms before bolting to the wardrobe. She risks one last look behind her before disappearing into the trees and Mary is still standing under the lamppost, staring right at her, snow steadily falling onto her red cloak, Lily’s borrowed one clutched to her chest.