Days After Death

Lily starts work tomorrow, which puts her in a good mood. A great mood even. She’s already planned on going out tonight for some drinks with some mates in celebration; to meet up with Nellie, dance with Libba and Rick and Faridah, if she could make it. Make Axel regret that he ever broke up with her.

Lily had a plan for most things, even when she thought she didn’t. It was strange, unconsciously creating objectives and missions throughout her life and not feeling the slightest slither of surprise when she had certainly accomplished it. Only the addictive, low warmth of satisfaction. So, naturally, she always knew she’d end up here. It had always been the plan.

To do the school work, get just enough grades to ensure her proceeding to law enforcement, and spend a year on break to live her life. She had gone partying at places that did not mesh well with her dependency on glasses, fell even more in love with the boyfriend her entire family hated, had a hookup she regretted, even more so when she was caught, went through probably the worst break up of her life, broke another guy’s heart because she thought it could solve her bitterness (it did just a bit, which she still felt guilty about), travelled and appreciated and spent a quarter of her expenses on art and develop a sense of style she felt confident in, and then settled down and become the hero she always knew she would be.

Of all the things Lily had struggled through, at least it has never been direction. Decisiveness is more her middle name than Luna ever was.

Of course, another good contender could be ‘Dreading Talks with Mother,’ because that’s apparently what this is. A talk.

But it isn’t, because she’s sitting at her vanity applying her makeup for the night (the dark pencil liner that Axel had once expressed his approval on), and Ginny is standing up with her arms crossed over her chest, and a stern, solid frown etched into her face. She’s looking at her in hesitant displeasure, and Lily is trying to be nonchalant about it even though she’s barely restraining herself from barking at her mom and telling her to go away. She’s in a good mood, a victorious mood, even, and she doesn’t want her to ruin it with the criticism she knows she’s about to hear.

“You know I don’t like this whole Auror thing,” Ginny says evenly, and Lily has to refrain from rolling her eyes because her mother is making very intense eye contact with her in the reflection of the mirror.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she says instead, applying the eyeliner slowly, pressing the object into the soft creases of her skin. “I’ve wanted to do this since I was in first year.”

Lily supposes she could just spell the pencil to draw it in for her, but there’s an innate sense of pleasure she feels when she knows she’s good at something. She reckons nineteen is a good year to become a master at makeup, early for a witch, a little late for a Muggle.

“No, you wanted to be a herbology teacher like Neville.”

“Merlin, Mum. You know what I’m trying to say.”

Ginny steps into the room, and as much as Lily tries to keep the cool front she can in front of mostly anyone, it simply evaporates now. It makes her feel impossibly small, the familiar, creeping feeling of doubt tingling across her neck, her gut twisting itself in knots as it conjures up what a preconceived disaster she’ll be. But, as always, the confusion and fear shifts into outraged offence, and her gut loosens to light a fire under itself.

“I want you to absolutely promise me,” Ginny starts, and then she stops immediately, and walks over to where Lily is drawing on her makeup.

She takes the pencil right out of her hand. Lily looks up at her, eyes glaring, feeling her cheeks flush with humiliation about how she had just let her do that, and how she was going to bite her tongue and not say anything about it because dammit she wanted to have a good night tonight.

“What was that for?” Lily says, and she can hear the anger dripping off her tongue like venom, but it’s the best she can do. Her mum’s lucky she’s her mum and not anyone else.

“I need you to listen to me.”

“I was listening before.”

“No, Lily. This is serious. I need you to be really serious, and look me right in the eye when I’m talking to you.”

Lily doesn’t say anything. A merciful silence, because she really wanted to say one of the few sarcastic remarks jumping to the forefront of her mind.

At least her mum can sense how badly she’s testing her patience. The worst times would be when she took notice and still tried her, which made everything worse.

Now, when Ginny continues, at least Lily knows she isn’t purposefully trying to gait her.

“Being an Auror is dangerous,” she says, and it was just a broken record at this point. But Lily would sit it out if it made her feel better. “It’s not this glorious legacy you’ve pictured in your head, Lily. It’s tough and bloody and people die. You’re going to see the people around you die. You’re going to see the people who you work with, who you like, who you may even become your friends, die. You’re going to go on missions, and you may fail and people will die because of it. People will die, Lily. Sometimes, it will be your fault.”

She doesn't like this conversation, she doesn't like it at all.

She isn’t an idiot. She knows how dangerous this line of profession is. She has studied the casualties, read them in snippets of the Daily Prophets, she’s acquainted with some of the most infamous and disgusting crimes the wizarding world had ever seen.

Why is Ginny still patronising her? As if she’s still her baby who hadn’t known the full force of the drop when going down that steep slide at the playground near the Burrow. This job is all she’s ever aspired to be since she scraped her knees from that giant slide. What does Ginny think she’s going to get out of this sort of conversation? Of course people died. Of course Lily would be upset about it.

But she’ll do what her dad does every day. She’ll pick herself, dust off her shoulders, and get back on track. And she’ll be the best Auror since his enlistment. And not only would they love her because she was his daughter, they’ll love her because she was their protector. And she’ll keep them all safe, and she’ll be just as much their hero. She’ll be Lily Potter.

She doubts her mom wants to hear that.

“I’m going to be good at it, that’s all I can do,” Lily tells her, trying to keep her patience, but she starts feeling fidgety like she does when she’s restless. “The better I am, the safer me and the people around me will be. I won’t let them die.”

For some reason, Ginny doesn’t look particularly comforted by her words. Well, it’s the best she can do without lying to her face. The more she thinks on it, the more she’s starting to believe she can’t fulfil whatever her mum wants to get out of this ‘talk’ of theirs, it’s literally impossible. She’s her mother, and what mothers did was worry about their daughters.

Her gaze is hard, but then they soften just a little.

“Don’t get it in over your head,” she says. “Lily, please. I’m serious.”

“I know you’re serious, Mum.”

“You may think you have all the answers in the world, but you don’t, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Follow your dad.”

Lily looks at her, surprised.

“Really?”

“Yes, he’ll keep you safe.”

“Mum, I’ll be an Auror. I won’t really be safe.”

“He’ll put you on his team, he’ll keep an eye on you.”

Ginny sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than Lily, so Lily doesn’t feel as annoyed as she usually would at her words. She feels almost guilty. She doesn’t want to cause her mum pain, or make her worry, but it’s inevitable. She’ll always feel this way unless she starts believing in her.

“I’ll be okay,” Lily says, though she knows her words are meaningless. She’ll have to prove it to her. It seems like she always has to prove everything to her.

Ginny combs her fingers through her hair, and Lily closes her eyes as Ginny pulls her to her. She doesn’t say anything for a while, and Lily wonders if she’s just trying to find comfort in physical touch because her promises were so unfulfilling. Is that how little her words are to her?

But it feels nice, and as much as Lily wants to shove her away and yell her throat raw, she feels like she wants her mom to hold her like this forever. Like she’s been waiting for it forever.

She’ll never tell her, though.

“I hate it when we fight,” Ginny murmurs.

Lily doesn’t say anything.

Ginny pulls away.

“It won’t be as great as your dad always says it is,” she says.

And there it goes. Whatever had been forming then, whatever hope Lily had for this to end on a nice note completely shatters. She turns away and concentrates on the eyeliner pencil that Ginny places down on her vanity again, feeling her anger boil over. She can’t stop it this time. She can’t.

Ginny must feel it too, but she isn’t remorseful about it. Not in the least. In fact, she pushes it. How important she feels her words must be to feed all of this.

“He romaticises it, even now. That profession is much more thankless than he gives it credit for, and there’s more to lose than earn. I don’t think you really know what you’re getting yourself into, Lily. And I know this’ll hurt your pride, but I have to say it. And if you ever realise it’s not for you, there’s no shame in quitting and finding something new. You know that, right? You were so young during the times when it was bad. James and Albus will tell you how busy he was, they remember the hospital visits or the times he was missing. Especially James. I don’t want that sort of life for you, especially when you’re so young. You’re so– so full right now– and I don’t want anything to change that, you know? I think this will change that. I really don’t know about all of this, Lily. I really don’t think it’s what you want.”

Lily had gotten better over the years, when it came down to putting a lid on it. Sometimes she’d get so angry all she could do was tremble and shake as silent tears of resentment flooded out of her eyes. She had been inconsolable during these times, screaming obscenities and locking herself away where she choked on her own hate for everyone.

Her dad had taught her well, he had been an angry child too, he had told her. She had the decency to actually listen to him, and she learnt how to channel it into being productive. She loves how she could do that now.

She knows Albus could really learn a thing or too.

And her Mum. She’s the person who gave her all this rage in the first place, anyways.

Like her Mum, though, well, she knows somehow (like all mothers do) exactly how to push her buttons. Sometimes Lily truly believes that she does it on purpose, just to give herself a sadistic power rush, to make herself feel better that her kids are growing up and moving away from her. She doesn’t remember her being this wretched to James or Albus, but James had always been her favourite, so maybe she’d gone easy on him. And since James was the favourite, she’d gone easy on Al. But Al is a fuck up. So she has to bear the worst of it because of him.

She’s always different around her mum. It’s like Ginny wants her to be an immature, blind child forever, so Lily would feel like one and become one.

And yet she’s still expected to be respectful. Merlin on a fucking Firebolt.

“Mum, I’m really trying to be nice here, but you’re seriously pissing me off.”

Similar rage flashes in Ginny’s eyes for an instant, and it’s all so familiar. Of course she’s looking for a reason to fight. Maybe she had a disagreement with her dad or something.

Who cares? She hates being stuck between them, but her dad’s too nice for his own good sometimes, and someone has to stand up for him. She truly didn’t care for what Ginny had to say about him right now.

She picks up the pencil again, deftly ignoring her mother’s rage, despair, concern, she doesn’t really give a shit anymore. She doesn’t know why she tries to understand when she can’t do the same back. There’s no point in telling her how she remembers her dad’s pain as much as James and Albus do. There’s no point in telling her dad is still loveable to her despite what Ginny thinks Lily should feel towards him. There’s no point in telling her that if she expects her to be just as resentful she’ll just end up like Albus, but there’s no point in telling her that she can’t purposefully bait her and get upset when she rises to it. There’s no point in these double standards. There’s no point in telling her how badly she needs to make a name for herself, how she’s tired of everyone else writing the narrative for her, tired of her trying to dictate when and where the next chapter will take place. She’s so tired of not having autonomy over her own life. And the few choices she makes, she’ll always have her mother frowning down upon her.

That’s a problem she doubts she can ever get her to see.

Maybe James could, but he couldn't really know how she felt, could he? No, not even Albus could.

At least she has her dad, he has always been with her.

There’s quiet as Lily finishes the touch ups on her face.

“You’re so naive. Both of you are so naive,” Ginny says, and there’s so much hate in her voice that suddenly Lily feels she might cry.

Ginny seems to have given up caring too. She leaves the room after.

Lily stares at herself in the mirror, and takes in how if she starts to cry now, her makeup will be ruined and there won’t be any time to do it by hand again, she’d just have to cast a spell. But she feels like she just might anyway. She doesn’t know why her mum hates her dad so much. She doesn’t know why she hates her. No one should ever talk to their kid with so much spite, and Lily had been trying to be good too.

She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t fix her.

She takes deep breaths, even though she doubts it’ll work, and when she hears the knock on her door, she doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t want anyone to see her like this, she feels so stupid.

“Lily?” Her dad calls.

She doesn’t turn around, and she hears him shuffle in, closing the door gently behind her, because of course he knows she doesn’t want people to see, even if it’s just him and her mum in the house besides her.

She turns her head down, hating how she lets her tears fall, hating how out of control she feels. Why can’t she just be bulletproof to her mum’s words, just like she would be to anyone else’s? Why do they matter so much to her? Why do they frustrate her more than anything else?

She feels her dad pat the top of her head, smoothing out her hair in soothing strokes. It’s his way of comfort, he’s not the best with words, but she’s fine with that. She reckons more people should show their love how her dad shows his love. Doing nothing but silently being there for her when she needed it. People screwed up too much when words were involved.

So Lily cried, and she ruined her makeup.

“I just wanted to have a good day,” she mutters resentfully, feeling her nails dig into her palms with how badly her fists are balled up. “Why can’t she just believe in me with anything?”

Harry’s quiet, but his caresses don’t cease.

“It’s my fault,” he says.

“No, it’s not. It’s really not your fault dad.”

He’s silent again.

She doesn’t pretend to know what goes through his mind, sometimes people are just inscrutable.

He kneels down and takes her hands, and she looks at him, taking in how blurry he is through her tears and bad vision. Is there any point in putting on makeup on her eyes anyways when she has to wear glasses?

Harry reaches up and wipes the tears off her cheeks. When he draws his hand back, the tips of his fingers are smudged with blue and pink. He looks at her adoringly, but not in the way where he sees his little girl, someone who needs protecting or defending, but in the way where there’s pride in his eyes. It’s as if though she’s breaking down in front of him, simply because of a few harsh words from her mother, it doesn’t discredit all the hard work that she’s put into getting herself where she is.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, and she feels like crying for the complete opposite reasons as before.

But she doesn’t cry. Instead, she squeezes her dad’s hand, sniffles, rubs her nose and face, and dares to look at what a monstrosity her face has become directly in the mirror.

“Oh, shit!” She exclaims, horrified. There are black streaks running down her face, and her cheeks are blotchy and her eyes are bloodshot enough that she looks like she’s on some sense heightening draughts. Her lipstick is smudged, and there’s snot leaking out of her nostrils. “I look like a bloody Porlock!”

Harry chuckles as she grabs a handkerchief and dutifully wipes her face.

“I’ve never been more relieved that I’ve inherited your terrible eyesight in my life,” she mutters, wondering how treacherous she would look if she could see herself in blaring clarity.

“Want to borrow my glasses?” Harry asks.

She scoffs.

“Absolutely not.”

They both start laughing, hers more boisterous, as if trying to make up for the fact that she felt such bitterness before. When she stops, she feels grateful that her dad is as much a friend to her as her father.

It feels good to have him, good to know he’s going to be by her side in the future. She isn’t blind to how her mother fights with him, how she dislikes her being so closely associated with him, as if he wants to purposefully hurt her. It’s crazy, and her whole thought process about the matter was inane. Lily will just have to prove it to her, prove that her spirit is stronger than she ever gave her credit for, show that she’s only closer to her dad because he’s the one that believes in her. She’ll have to be satisfied once Lily makes a name for herself. She’ll have to take pride in boasting of her achievements, claiming her daughter as much as she prides herself over James’s character. And when that time comes, Lily will make sure she feels completely stupid for ever doubting her in the first place. Nothing will be thanks to her.

When she spells away her ruined makeup with a flick of her wand, she tries not to feel too bad about the blank canvas of her face, staring back at her with swollen eyes.