Now that you're mine
We'll find a way of chasing the Sun
Let me be the one that shines with you
In the morning we don't know what to do
Two of a kind
We'll find a way to do what we've done
Let me be the one who shines with you
And we can slide away
Slide away
Slide away
Away
Her hands shook. A half smoked cigarette was clutched in her right hand and she brushed her hair out her eyes with the other. On the windowsill beside her, an ashtray was nearly overflowing, with an empty cigarette carton beneath to stop it blowing away in the wind. The weather outside was fairly miserable but Lily supposed it was November after all so it made sense. The wind nipped around her ankles but she just curled her arms around herself and took another drag from her cig. Across her lap and next to her were numerous sealed envelopes; the only opened one was balled up inside of her fist. All of the envelopes were addressed to Petunia Evans.
With tentative fingers, she reached down into her lap and picked up her lighter. It wasn’t a fancy metal one like Remus had, with initials engraved in it, or a posh magic one like Sirius’, it was just a lighter. A simple, blue Bic lighter from her local corner shop. It took her a few times for the flame to work properly but on the third try it lit and she held it up in front of her. Perhaps she was a pyromaniac at heart but watching the way fire danced calmed her. Lily took the scrunched piece of paper from her fist and suspended it in the air between two fingers. The corner of it caught and the flame spread across the page. She could see the scrawl of her sisters writing as the note unfurled but it was too blackened to read again. The ash floated away and after a moment it was as though the letter had not even existed at all. She supposed she could have lit it with magic but she found a small comfort in doing things the muggle way, in a way it helped with her homesickness.
As it was past midnight on a dark winter and a Sunday, most people were already asleep or at least in their dorms so Lily didn’t have to worry about being hassled by anyone she knew. She was thankful for the peace. Even though she wouldn’t trade it for the world, there were seldom places in Hogwarts to simply be by herself and enjoy the quiet company of her thoughts.
To be honest, she would never have even thought of herself to be the sort to go to a boarding school when she was small. Being from Cokeworth, it was really just the norm for everyone to go to the comprehensive closest to them. Before her Hogwarts letter, her place was already secured at Petunia’s school up the hill. She wondered what life would be like if she had never been a witch at all - normal as her dearest sister would say. Maybe she would become an office girl like her mum used to be, maybe she would be getting pissed and kissing tons of Muggle boys in a field like her cousin tells her stories about, maybe she and her sister would be close - sharing clothes and gossiping over magazines. But it would always be just that, a maybe.
More tears fell down her face.
Even though she had changed into her pyjamas, she was yet to take off her makeup so mascara and kohl liner ran down her cheeks in black streaks. Lily imagined that she looked a mess: knotted hair from the wind, shivering in her cropped linen pyjamas, chain smoking and crying black tears over a pile of letters. Not the perfect Gryffindor goody goody everyone seemed to believe she was. She didn’t really like the persona others had given her of being some sub human, sub par swot. She wasn’t like Sirius or James or the other Purebloods who had everything handed to them on a silver spoon. If she had to deal with all those family issues just be at Hogwarts and then face abuse just for being a Muggleborn, then by fuck was she going to work her bleeding socks off. She often felt as though she had something to prove - as if to show that, sure, her blood may be ‘filth’ but she was smarter than the rest and she deserved to be there even if she was called various things along the way.
“Oi Evans!”
A deep voice called out from the otherside of the room. She could hear the heavy footsteps behind her but chose not to move a muscle.
“What you doing up so late Ev- are you crying?” James Potter asked, his voice softening as he reached her and came to stand beside the windowsill. He was in his Quidditch gear with his glasses slightly fogged up and hair spiked from the wind. Lily guessed that he had been down on the pitch late after practice - she had seen the rest of the team come in nearly an hour ago. It was only now that Lily turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were blazing and still streaming with tears; a sort of pent up anger seemed to be simmering beneath her skin.
“Just fuck off Potter!” She spat with bitter enmity. The boy’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. His tawny eyes lingered on her own bloodshot ones before darting away to look at his feet. He looked back up at her with a strange sense of schoolboy fear as if he had been told off by a teacher.
“What’s happened, Evans? Are you alright?”
“Do I look alright to you?” She stubbed out her fag and turned her body round to face James properly. “None of your fucking business anyway.”
“I can help Evans! What is it? Is it Pet-”
“No you can’t help Potter. Alright? You just can’t.” Lily hissed with animosity and a sob shook her body. “You can’t help that my fucking sister thinks I’m a freak and won’t talk to me. That every letter I’ve sent her this year have been returned to me, un-fucking-opened with a note telling me to stop contacting her. That my dad lost his fucking job or that I got shouted at and harrassed and had to defend myself from Slytherins again today on the way to class. You can’t fucking help with my shit so stop trying to be my knight in shining armour for once and just fuck off. Not everything is about you and trying to boost your ego for helping out another poor damaged charity case”
James looked at her in shock. His mouth was slightly agape and Lily just wished he would stop looking at her like that, like she was broken. She looked away in embarrassment from her outburst - she had no idea what had possessed her to do so but she felt at least that some weight had shifted from her shoulders. Her anger wasn’t really anything to do with him but she just needed someone to direct it at.
“Who cares what your sister thinks? You’re so much better than her anyway.”
“Why, because she’s a Muggle? Just a stupid, inferior Muggle? What the fuck Potter. My family are Muggles. I’m a Muggleborn for God’s sake. I thought you weren’t like that Potter. I thought you were different after all.”
“No, no, Evans you know I didn’t mean it like that at all I just-”
“I don’t care, Potter.” Lily sighed. James looked at her with big sorrowful eyes and an expression that made Lily’s stomach flip.
“I don’t really care anymore,” she carried on, gazing out the window. “I don’t care if I’m a Muggleborn before anything else here. I don’t care if my sister hates me. I don’t care if I’m almost burnt out with all my school work. I don’t care if my Dad’s down at the job centre.” Another sob shook her body and black tears fell onto her pink shorts. “I don’t care if I’m a freak to Muggles and the Wizarding World alike. I don’t c-” Her breath became shaky and her words overpowered by sobs.
Tentatively, James stretched out his arm and wrapped it around Lily’s shoulder for comfort. To his surprise she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pulled in closer to him, shaking silently and wiping her tears on his kit. Enveloping her in a full hug, James stroked her hair - reminding her of her childhood. This only made her cry more. Quietly, Lily repeated “I don’t care” over and over in a harsh whisper until her words became jumbled and foreign to her. James’ strong arms felt comforting around her and he smelt faintly of sweat, mint and broom wax. Lily realised she probably smelt horrible herself after smoking and not yet having a shower. That wasn’t the biggest issue on her mind though really. As she trembled beneath his grip, she felt herself begin to be soothed as he continued to stroke her hair and rock her ever so slightly. If she had thought about it more, she might have jumped away and pretended to be disgusted but she was so worn out she just let herself be held.
She felt safe.