This chapter is dedicated to Lovegood-Odair for literally just existing and being cool idk what else to say!
Love you ♥️♥️♥️

(26th September 1977)

Esme-Leigh Bisset didn't mind not being on the quidditch team anymore. Honestly she didn't. It was easy enough to say to anyone that asked that she preferred to watch James torture his team, it was easy to lie and say she wasn't bothered but the truth was she did mind.
She missed the feeling of the wind in her hair, bringing it to life. She pined for the roars of a crowd when she scored a goal for Gryffindor; she the adrenaline that ran through her veins when the quaffle was tucked her her arm, fingerless gloves gripping the leather of the ball as if it were alive and about to leap from her arms at any second. And more than anything, she missed the rush that breezed over her like ice cold water when she caught sight of the proud smirk on James' lips when she was doing well; the smirk would reach his eyes and she would see them sparkle if she got close enough. A smirk from James while he was in Captain-mode was like finding a pearl in a clamshell; not impossible but very unlikely. She doubted there was anything better.

In short, no matter how fine she said it was, Esme-Leigh missed quidditch more than she'd miss her right leg if it fell off in the night– she'd still be able to play without it so what was the point? But she still had her right leg, and she was still just watching the practices from the commentator box. She hated it more than she'd hated anything in a while.

Quidditch was a chance to be something more than the pretty veela girl with the velvety accent and the killer smile. She was part of a team, and it wouldn't matter what she looked like as long as the quaffle found itself familiar with the hoops.

No matter how long she dwelled on it, the pain didn't seem to dim. It had been a week of getting used to it (technically longer, seen as detention had prevented her from even trying out) and yet the idea hadn't yet found a home inside her brain. It sat there, clinging on like an unwelcome guest or a virus she'd rather shake off than admit was eating her alive. But she kept a smile on her face when James stuck the notice on the Gryffindor common room board– he'd always insisted he would never tell anyone early if they'd made the team– and when Marlene bounced around with glee at being made seeker, Esme grinned with her and assured her there was never any doubt. She'd even congratulated Sirius for his spot as beater being returned to him. And to no-ones surprise but everyone's delight, Remus had gotten the commentator gig.

In hindsight it was probably a dismal idea to agree to come along and watch a few of the practices, it only aided in rubbing salt in the wound, and a nasty wound it was too. She watched the team –a lot of whom she'd flown beside many times over the years– zip along the pitch in time trails, repetition practices and various other drills James had devised to pressure his team to become better than they'd ever been; and as much as she hated to admit it: they were doing terrific without her.

"FOR MERLINS SAKE, McAULEY, I WILL KICK YOU OFF THIS TEAM ALMOST AS HARD AS I'LL KICK YOUR ARSE IF YOU EVEN SO MUCH AS THINK ABOUT GIVING McKINNON THAT SORT OF CHEEK AGAIN! ARE WE CLEAR?!"
Esme-Leigh didn't catch what McAuley might have said in order to earn himself a thrashing from the wrath of James Potter in captain-mode but she could only imagine he had deserved it if the sheepish slump of the the fourth year's shoulders was anything to go by.

That was one thing she didn't miss: James' lack of anger management. No doubt, he was an ample captain –even the Slytherins admired him in that respect– but he took absolutely no prisoners, almost like Jekyll and Hyde. And she supposed there would still be the victory parties, and she would still get to hear the roar of be crowd drug her brain but it was the flying she missed. Life had been oddly dull the past week, in a perilous sort of sense, like a ticking bomb would explode at any moment and everything would descend into chaos.

The bomb was constructed of multiple wires, the first being the thick silence that had suffocated the girls dorm. It had started the night after the party they'd had, planning a prank on Brodie O'Connor (an extremely underwhelming turn of events in the long run but it did make Esme feel better to see him with rabbit ears for a week) and ever since then, the dorm felt like living on a knife's edge. But the most peculiar part was the sudden absence of Aliona Connolly. She wasn't anywhere to be seen at lights out. Eventually she would appear in classes but she never talked much, neither did Trudy, and Esme-Leigh swore she had heard her crying underneath her duvet cover at night when she thought everyone was asleep.

It had only taken Esme about a day to realise that Trudy and Aliona weren't talking, though trying to figure out why was a more pressing issue. There seemed to be no acrimony, no hostile looks behind backs and no gossip between their other friends. It was almost as though they had never been friends in the first place, just slipped back into acquaintanceship like mud after rain. She hated it.

It was simply incomprehensible to imagine a world in which Trudy and Aliona were not best friends. A world where caring, slightly nebby, sweet-natured Trudy Nott didn't want to know funny, voguish and thoughtful Aliona Connolly was a world upside down and a world not worth spending another second in. A bomb needed to explode at one point, and if one of them didn't set the damned thing off then Esme might do it herself.

Lily Simpson had mentioned something about dreaming once, she was an avid dreamer, she often rhapsodise about the importance of the imagination and the privacy of being utterly consumed by trivial thought. But what she had failed to mention was just how disconnected to the world around one became while dreaming. It was for that reason Esme-Leigh hadn't even noticed the practise was over until Marlene was sitting next to her on the bench in the commentator box. She was wearing a fresh pair of clothes and it was obvious that training had been over a while because she smelt like lavender and perfume, meaning she'd showered.

"Hey stranger. Send us a post card, will you?"

Esme-Leigh glanced at her best friend through locks of cerulean hair, adjusting her glasses as she did so.
"Come again?"

"Send us a post card. You were miles away."

"Ooh. Right."

Marlene chuckled, "it wasn't my best– I'll give you that. I've been funnier." She sighed and leant back on the bench, her boots hitting the row on front with a clunk as she stretched her legs out.
"So, what's with the daydreaming?"

She shrugged, looking away and off to the pitch, still shocked she'd managed to miss the fact that practice was over.

"Don't you shrug at me, young lady!"

"Would you rather I just huffed?"

"I'd rather you tell me whats up."

This time it was Esme that sighed, turning back to face her friend and scrunching up her freckled nose, "it's nothing, really. The girls dorm isn't the same recently. I think something happened between Aliona and Trudy."

"Yeah," Marlene replied with an air of sobriety despite the endorphins of being fresh off a broomstick, "I guessed as much. Ever since last week things have been off."

"Aliona doesn't even come to her bed at night. Is she with you?"

"Not unless she's with James but I highly doubt it. I'd definitely have noticed. I'm like a shagging hawk-eye!"

They laughed, drinking in the sound felt better than any drug either had heard of. Laughter was its own form of narcotic, but did little to slow the detonation of a ticking bomb...

♣ ♣ ♣

(26th September 1977 continued)

Spending one's seventh night alone was a sobering reality for Aliona Connolly. The room of requirement was warm and inviting– a much more viable option than facing her best friend right now but that didn't mean the idea of spending another second curled up in a blanket by the fire didn't fill her with a bubbling fit of pique, hotter than the flames she curled up next to.

She thought about what Trudy might be doing in the dorm right now, with Esme-Leigh and Mary, she wondered if she'd told them everything. Were they comforting her right now? Did she deserve to be comforted? Who would comfort her?

Aliona shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought from her conscience. She didn't need comforting. She was fine. But the more she said it, the less she managed to believe it.

Aliona had been dreaming too. Every night, the same perplexing dream...
She was in her dorm room, but somehow all the beds were outside, in the middle of the black lake but they weren't sinking. She would float on the water, walking on it with ease until she reached Trudy's bed. She would be there, standing with a soft smile on her face, lighting up her perpetually rosey cheeks and it would be impossible for Aliona not to kiss her. But then she would sink; waking with a start, the vague modicum of vanilla and sweet tea on her tongue just before it fades...

The dream never changed. Every night without fail it would return and every night she would dream it anew, not recognising its reoccurrence until she woke up. Although every time she walked over the Black Lake there would be a peculiar sort of recognition, almost like seeing a familiar face on the train, the sort of face that would invite one to take a second glance and promptly ruin the rest of their day spent attempting to remember where they'd seen the stranger before. A stranger but not quite.

She was moments away from slipping effortlessly into the tender oblivion of her dream when she realised she wasn't alone. The presence didn't say anything but the sound of their deep breathing was enough to know they were watching her.

Aliona stayed still, hoping the presence would go away if she willed it, faking sleep. She had no such luck, however, and so she sighed and pulled the blanket higher around her chin, still refusing to confront the presence but at least giving it the satisfaction of engaging in conversation:
"Can I help you, Sirius?"

The presence didn't answer at once, she realised moments later that was because he was fetching a blanket. He wrapped it around both of their shoulders as he sat next to her.
"How'd you know it was me?" Sirius asked. He didn't look at her, if he weren't conversing with her, Aliona was pretty sure it would be impossible to decipher if he even knew she was there (which was strange because he was the unwelcome presence, not her).

"Lucky guess." Aliona said, propping herself up a little to get further under the blanket Sirius had wrapped around them both and following his lead by facing the fire.

"I thought I was being pretty stealth."

"No offence, Black, but you probably thought The Blitz was pretty stealth."

"Hmm. You win."

They were quiet for a moment or two, entranced by the wondrous silent-waltz the flames seemed to be dancing, fire didn't seem to need music like people do.

"Fine," Aliona said after a while, "you have this way of breathing at the back of your throat, like you've just learned oxygen is in limited supply. That's how I knew it was you."

Sirius laughed, not a full laugh, more like an elegant chuckle, almost caustic.
"Funny. Remus says I breathe like I've just ran a marathon when I sleep."

She stole a glance at him, feeling like she'd broken an unspoken rule. Sirius had his hair pulled back into a bun; his wand weaved through, pointing at the nape of his neck and he had the ghost of a smile on his lips, like it had only taken a short break from existing on his face. He never seemed far away from a smile. It was one of the things he had in common with James, and one of the things that had attracted her to James in the first place, way back at the beginning of fifth year.

Feeling rather like a kleptomaniac, Aliona stole another glance at Sirius before leaning into his ear, talking as smoothly as possible, if it was any other boy then perhaps the gesture would be seen as seductive but both parties knew better than to assume such a thing,
"Maybe it's because you're having terrible sex dreams about Remus. That ought to do it."

Sirius tried to hit her but she'd shifted away with a level of dexterity she did not know she possessed.
Now they'd both shifted positions the hypnotism of the fireplace had worn off and they were free to allow their eyes to wonder wherever they saw fit. Sirius' found the ceiling in an eye roll that would have made the topic of their conversation proud. It was well after noon anyway, sarcasm was appreciated at this time of night, not frowned upon.

"Is it that obvious?"

She laughed, a real laugh– hearty, unalloyed. The sort of laugh that could be bottled or written in a song. Sweet, melodic– Sirius might have gone as far as saying pretty.
"Um... yeah?!"

"Shit."

Quickly Aliona realised her mistake and she rushed to pick the blanket that had rolled off them back up and wrap it around his shoulders, resting her chin there once she was satisfied he was comfortable.
"Hey, hey! I didn't mean it, you know I didn't mean it! I'm just making fun!" He shot her a skeptical look that hit her like a punch in the gut. "And I won't tell him if that's what's got your knickers in a pretzel. Remus will be none the wiser if I've anything to do with it... unless you tell him yourself, of course."

Sirius began to relax after that, letting out a low whistle and closing his eyes for a moment; eyes almost the same silver as his companions, the only difference being that his were comprised of moonlight and her's resembled snowstorms.

"Thank you, Connolly. I mean it."

"No bother. I've no right."

He smiled as she pulled away from his shoulder, affectionately patting where her chin used to be.

"Speaking of: I don't suppose I've got any right asking why you're sleeping here? I'm guessing you're sleeping here, seen as it's well after curfew."
She observed him through her eyelashes as he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his robe pocket, "I thought I'd left these in here when I found you. You don't mind if I smoke, do you? I'm gasping."

She shook her head, "only if you share. I'm a social addict."

Sirius laughed and handed her one, lighting it for her with the tip of his wand, which sent his hair cascading out its bun, although he didn't seem to mind once he took a long drag from the cigarette.

They sat in a thick but easy silence while they smoked; Aliona formulating an answer to his question. Did she want to talk about it? With Sirius?
"I... it's a long story. I'm not sure I want to get into it. I'd much rather just smoke this and go to sleep."

Sirius nodded, it was obvious he understood. Aliona couldn't imagine the amount of times he'd felt exactly like her, especially after running away to live with James. Sometimes it's alright to sit with your secrets. It made them more manageable before the emotions explode.

"I've no choice but to respect that. But promise me this: when you do want to tell someone –it doesn't have to be me– but make sure you do. Eventually, I mean. I know what it's like to have a ticking bomb inside your brain. Just don't get hurt when it explodes."

Aliona smiled, shaking her head and letting her red hair float behind her face as she took another drag of the cigarette (which she was now beginning to wonder if it was heaven sent).
"Look at that. I never knew Sirius Black had a philosophical side."

"I'm full of surprises, me. But apparently my little crush on Remus isn't one of them."

She giggled, "apparently not."
They both seemed lost in thought before she spoke again; "tell me about him. Your little crush."

Sirius seemed to consider this option for a moment before the ghost of a smile reincarnated on his lips and he looked like Sirius again, the Sirius he was supposed to be.
"Okay... the first thing you need to know is that it's actually not very little at all. It's rather big..."

And so they talked. And by the time he was finished the two of them had almost gone through the entire packet of cigarettes and the fire had reduced from a waltz to a simple sway.

♣ ♣ ♣

(26th September 1977 continued)

When Marlene first left the girls dorm in favour of her Head Girl residence, Esme-Leigh had trouble adjusting. She'd spend nights lying awake, staring at the bed her best friend used to occupy, wishing with all her might she would materialise, scribbling something in the diary she called her enigma. Sometimes she would miss Marlene's presence so much that she would climb into the girls bed herself, wrapping the blankets around her own despondent body and imagining it was Marlene.

The dorm seemed empty when she wasn't there at the beginning. It hadn't stopped feeling empty but they were accustomed to it now. None of the other girls were expecting Marlene to bang on the bathroom door for Mary to hurry up; no one would expect to see her wandering round the dorm in her gym shorts and favourite sports bra that he had sworn by for at least a year and a half. But perhaps worst of all, Esme-Leigh had become accustomed to the sobering reality that she could no longer expect to wake up and find her best friend had gotten cold and crawled into her bed to keep warm, a soft smile on her face as if she'd gone to sleep grinning. Nothing hurt more than knowing that Marlene was sleeping cold now.

Although there were nights when Esme would sit by the window all night, sick with missing her, like an addict getting clean; she knew that Mary, Trudy and Aliona were at either side of the dorm, ready to help her out. One night they even insisted they would all move their duvets onto the floor and sleep in one big nest of blankets and stuffed animals. It had helped.

And now, weeks later Esme-Leigh saw Trudy Nott staring at the bed next to her own– Aliona's, with the same lamenting look, as though she was willing the redhead to appear where she was supposed to be. It was surprisingly easy to recognise the look having worn it so often herself.

Trudy hadn't uttered a word that wasn't completely necessary since the prank planning party and none of their dorm mates had the heart to ask why. Trying to negotiate an answer would be like a lamb trying to negotiate with the butchers knife. But Esme was willing to talk. Silence kills and she wouldn't live for it.

She slipped out of bed, the postbox red of her hair faded to brown with a shake of effort –it often went red when she was tired but it didn't matter– and padded over to Trudy whom, even in the dark, managed to navigate over to her without creaking a single floorboard (admittedly the bed socks helped).
"Hey you," she whispered, perching on the end of her bed and the smaller girl looked up; her eyes still the colour of milky tea, refusing to be changed by the purplish hue of the moonlight that seemed to be designed to beguile her.

Trudy didn't answer. But she did look up and meet Esme's eyes, offering the smallest of smiles, just the softest curve of the lips and a sparkle in her eye. It wasn't much but Esme didn't care about acknowledgment, just her friend.

"You'll be alright."

Trudy nodded, her pixie cut had grown out a little over the summer and it was almost a windswept bob now. It didn't fan out across the pillow like Mary's honeyed hair on the bed by the window but it fluffed around her head.
"Thank you."

Her voice was hoarse and it wasn't the most difficult deduction to make that she had been crying. It only made everything seem a million times more forlorn.

It wasn't a conscious decision to hug her. Esme-Leigh had always been better at speaking with her touch than her words. She didn't quite trust her own lips to twist the right thing to say from a seemingly limited lexicon.
She noticed just how delicate Trudy felt beneath her arms as she finally broke down into a fit of wracking sobs, convulsing and swallowing her whole like a tidal wave.

Esme-Leigh hushed her, glancing over to see Mary had sat up and seemed to be at work on pulling the duvets off the beds, piling them in the middle of the room.

"Come on," she coaxed, taking a weeping Trudys hand and guiding her to the sanctuary Mary had made wordlessly. All three of them nestled in together, both Mary and Esme with their arm around Trudy who's sobs had begun to fade but not totally disappeared. Almost like a time bomb with the detonation countdown paused.

"You want to tell us what happened?" Mary asked while Esme-Leigh did her best not to get drunk on the sound of her honeyed voice.

"With...with Aliona?" Trudy's eyes were watering and a few stray tears had made their way down her cheeks, meeting together at her throat.

"Only if you think it will help. If not me and Esme will just sit here with you."

As if to give Mary's words veracity, Esme began busing herself with stroking Trudy's tree-bark coloured hair from her face, using her thumb to wipe her tears away as carefully as possible, like tear-stains were battle wounds and she was clearing the wreckage like a magical Florence Nightingale.

"No. No, I want to tell you. But you need to promise me... promise me you won't tell anyone." Her Dublin accent made her pretty voice sound even lovelier as she spoke, it was the sort of voice that could command any attention simply because it sounded worth listening to. Even if it was to sit while she rhapsodised about whatever she so wished.

"Je vous assure."

"Cross my heart."

Something of a mould between doubt and gratitude crossed through her tea coloured, translucent eyes.
"Okay. Okay... it was the night– the night of that party we had. A-and we were drunk, I wasn't really thinking but I just sort of exploded? Like–like some kind of bomb went off in me? Or I fell off a waterfall. And—"

Something stopped her from finishing her sentence. Something held her words in her mouth for a moment while she fought to push them out. An unknown force kept the bomb from exploding her into a million pieces.

Mary spoke. "You know, I've got the same issue. Sometimes I refer to it as my waterfall. Basically I get so strung up that I just end up gushing over anything and everything. It builds up and then explodes in gushes like water when it falls off a cliff. And I can tell you now: it's not as pretty as it sounds. Honestly, I think I've just given it a pretty name to dress it up for myself." She shook her head slightly, a soft laugh forming on her lips, "what I'm trying to say is that whatever you're going to say will seem a lot less crippling once you've said it."

The air grew thick for a second. The only thing really making any movement was Esme-Leigh's hands making work on the tears streaming on Trudy's face and pooling round her collarbone.

"I kissed her."

Esme's hands stopped moving and Mary stopped breathing. Trudy kept weeping.

"I kissed her and I told her I loved her. Like, actually loved her, and she couldn't say it back," the words that had perished on her lips were now being resurrected all at once. They couldn't stream out her mouth quick enough. A waterfall wasn't the word. It was shrapnel. "And the worst part is that I don't even care anymore! I don't care that she doesn't love me! But I do care that she doesn't even like me... I'm so scared she doesn't like me."

"She likes you."

"What?"

"She likes you." Esme-Leigh almost chuckled, "of course she likes you. Why else would she be sleeping somewhere else, to give you space? Why else would she move seats in Transfiguration? Because she cares about you. And she wants to give you time before you're willing to accept her back in whatever way you want. Whatever way you see fit she'll jump at. Trust me, Trudy Nott, she adores you."

There were tears of a different kind in her almond shaped eyes.
"Thank you. Both of you. Sometimes I wonder what it might have been like in here if I didn't try to kill Mulicber. Or if Aliona wasn't...you know. If none of it happened I sometimes wonder if we'd be this close?" Trudy noticed the odd expression on her companion's faces. "That sounded morbid, sorry."

"No, it's fine. I'd just never considered it."

Esme realised a moment later that there were no more tears to caress off of her friend's face. Her cheeks were just still damp but they would dry. Everything does in the end.

"Can we sleep now?" The tear stained girl asked, those almond shaped eyes nearly dry from tears but heavy with sleep.

"Of course we can."

The girls bunched closer together and Trudy did her best to forget that neither of the girls were the one she truly wanted in her arms. Eventually, after letting her mind race all she could think to say was in a whisper:
"I've got middle names, you know?" It cut the silence but neither of the other two seemed to mind. "Niamh Imogen."

Her words hit a wall of silence and she began to worry that her friends were angry before they both simultaneously became infected with laughter

"You interrupted a perfectly serene environment to tell us you've got middle names?"

Now Trudy was giggling too, "well you called me Trudy Nott! I thought I'd tell you my middle names for next time!"

Mary's laugh was like a bird song, "I cannot believe you! Only a pureblood would do that!"

"Oh shut up!" (She didn't mean it, of course).

"I was going to before you told me your bloody middle names!"

"You guys suck."

"Love you as well."

"Just go to sleep."

Both Esme-Leigh and Mary opened their mouths, puckish grins on their faces, itching to make the obvious joke that they were trying to, but before either could draw another breath Trudy shushed them.

"I think I walked into that one." She sighed, wondering if silence was really so bad when neither girl elected to answer. She found her own peace in the silence, pushing the faint ticking of the inevitable bomb to one side. For now she could sleep. She didn't dream.

♣ ♣ ♣

(27th September 1977)

Esme-Leigh was alone before Mary sat down, taking the empty library seat and setting down a large pile of books that looked like they were for Charms.

"Hey you," she said, a smile on her face, giving her a celestial sort of glow.

"Hey. How did you get to be so chipper?"

Mary laughed, sounding almost giddy, "I don't know? I think I slept well in that little den we made with Trudy last night." She opened a book from her heap before searching for a quill in her satchel. As she rummaged she continued to talk to Esme.
"How do you think Trudy is? I saw her at lunch at the Hufflepuff table, talking to Jasper and Holly Duncan, you know?– the twins? Anyway, I didn't see Aliona, did you?" She'd located her ink pot by the time she'd finished and set it down in the desk.

"No, I didn't. I suppose she'll come when's she's ready. I don't think they've survived long without each other before. James and Sirius could barely stay angry with each other for a month!" Esme-Leigh replied matter-of-factly as she ran a hand into her hair (which, today, was a lustrous silver).

"That's testosterone for you, Esme. Boys are either all anger or all sweetness. You rarely see anything in between."

"What made you an expert?"

"I study character."

She laughed, blue eyes shimmering, "what, instead of studying charms like you are now? I don't suppose you study Astronomy as well as you do Character? I could use some help."

Mary tried to frown but it didn't quite seem to work.
"As a matter of fact I do. Do you need help?"

Esme-Leigh sighed, pushing a star chart away from her and slumping further down into her chair, huffing all the while.
"You could say that. I've barely been paying attention all term and it's catching up to me."

"Hmm, why not?"

"Just 'cause. Will you help?"

Mary tucked lock of golden hair behind her ear, her fringe still falling across her forehead as elegantly as ever.
"I could tutor you if it's that bad? I'm pretty good at astronomy."

Suddenly Esme felt a little lighter, like she might just take flight without a broomstick.
"Would you?"

"Of course. If you like?"

"Mary, I might just kiss you!"

The smaller girl went bright pink at the proclamation, but her radiant smile did not falter.

"Well... it's agreed then. Just let me know when works best for you?"

Esme grinned, staying true to her promise and kissing Mary on the cheek.
"You're a star, Mary. Really."

"Pun intended?"

"Absolutely."

(27th September 1977)

The soul is an odd legend. Some don't even give its existence a second thought, a few even dismiss its veracity entirely, but most do posses a soul.

A soul cannot be located on one's anatomy but Lily Evans was a firm believer in its existence regardless. She believed that souls were just as valuable to survival as the heart. A soul should be nurtured, cared for and adored.

Lily Evans' soul was dying. Suffocated by the vastness of nothing. Nothing was a despicable word because it didn't seem to scare her quite like anything else. Because nothing meant the absence of something. And it was somethings that fed souls.

When a place is so thickly coated in Nothing it almost feels like ivy has infected every surface, or a bomb had been set to tick from inside the walls.

Nothing was a leaden death. One she couldn't help but die.

Letters skewed across her desk, her shelves and her bed; some from Marlene, some from Remus, Sirius, Peter– but mostly James. There was even an unopened letter from Esme-Leigh by the windowsill. The arrival of that letter signified the end of her replies. Now she barely glanced at them.

Dorcas seemed busy with her Track Team and Alice adored Frank far too much to seek a stimulant anywhere else. And so Lily was left alone with her silence, where she had begun to make peace with such quiet. Like a net, saving a seventy foot drop; and perhaps it was leading her to a crash and burn rather than preventing one; but entertainment was few and far between in such days. She would haply take what she could get. The danger of her own demise was enough to keep one thoroughly jested for a lifetime.

A soul dies without somethings. She had learnt this in the most cruel way possible; sitting idle as magic slipped from her fingertips like sand in an hour glass. She could only watch as power diminished from her soul, leaving her bare and normal.

Normal was a word she despised. Normal meant boring and boring meant shit. Shit was just shit.

Lily glanced at the letters on her desk, building up and leering over her like another letter she knew all too well. One she thought she was free of when she tore it to bits.

"Apparently not," she muttered from between gritted teeth, pushing herself from her bed and padding to the window.

As she observed the moonlight of the witching hour her hair caught the mauve hues, glamouring it a deep crimson, like an ancient blood stain. It was a weak analogy but she was too sleep deprived to care, she doubted she would raise an eye even if she were wide awake.

He was there again. The same one that was there yesterday, and the day before. He stood leaning nonchalantly by a lamppost, allowing the light to cast a well placed shadow across his hood. He would stand for a moment, catch her eye in the window and then he would go.

The Devil, Lily called him. Lucifer was another name. In fact, the devil could take on any form he chooses, she knew this already but something about this devil in particular allured her. She wasn't as unnerved as she imagined she should be. Lucifer never did anything more than watch for a moment, eyes unblinking and face unreadable, before walking away, tightening an old fashioned travelling cloak around his chin as he went.

Today he took a moment longer to catch her eye, Lily wondered if he would wait here all night if she wasn't there to observe him. Perhaps he would never leave?

Her questions were futile because Lucifer knew she was there –he always seemed to know– and when he looked up she was ready to meet his gaze.

Lucifer winked and then he was gone, leaving Lily blinking out her window and into the night, wondering if he was ever really there at all. Perhaps The Devil went by one too many names? Perhaps he was merely a figment of her imagination? After all, he never did seem to blink...

♥ ♥ ♥

(28th September 1977)

In the light of day Lucifer seemed like a distant memory– a whisper of recognition that would float away like a dandelion in spring winds.
She awoke to a grim looking day but she knew better than to complain. There were worse things to complain about, besides, to whom would she lament?

She was alone in the house when she ventured downstairs, making the place seem more like a tomb than a graveyard which perhaps was worse, or was it a blessing? To roam alone when there was no option, may have been better than to have the choice and be denied.

Lily sighed, she would kill to see James. It was a sentence she never imagined would cross her mind but it was true. She had never thought anything more true since she'd begun lying to herself at the age of eleven; trying to convince herself she wasn't magic. But she was. And she missed James and his own sort of magic. And the magic he brought out of her.

Then she thought of something else. Something wonderful, and terrifying, and something she didn't want to think of again but couldn't seem to stop...
She thought of being with James. Actually with James. She allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to rest her head on his shoulder, not out of comfort, but just because she could. Lily thought of what it might be like to be close to James without the feeling that she was only there to be the friend he needed. What it might be like to hold his hand, to kiss his lips, to see him smile because she was with him.

She felt gluttonous and slightly sick. It wasn't fair to think like this. She shouldn't think like this but he was in her head and no one else was around. And so James would keep her company in her tombstone, even if it was just the thought of him...

It was early when her mother first came down the living room and sat on the couch, not even six yet, but by the time she opened her eyes it was seven o' clock and the memory of James twisted out of reach like a wisp of smoke when the light of dawn cracked over the horizon fully, revealing a drab sunrise, not really worth watching.

Faith Evans was in the doorway, watching her curiously. Lily tried to smile but her mouth seemed that refuse and so Faith looked away; ironically losing her namesake with every fleeting moment.

Lily turned her back on her mother, feeling fully the weight of the silence, it was breaking her back and suffocating her all at once.

Out the window, morning appeared to be beguiling her to join it. The greys had a slight pink tinge to them, almost like they were blushing under her gaze and Lily was nothing if not tuned to listen to beauty. That was how she lived as long as she could remember.

Pushing off the sofa and refusing to save a glance to her mother, Lily padded up the stairs to get dressed before slipping out the door. There was only one destination she could be in that moment, there wasn't anywhere else she would consider going...

It hadn't taken her long to get there. By the time she found herself on the roof of the town church the sunrise was no longer a vague blush but a cherry blossom pink.

It was sunset when she was last here but sunrise would have to do, James wouldn't have minded either way, would he?
Lily made her way to the railing, if she reached deep enough into her dreams she could almost see him there –like he was last time– legs dangling off the edge precariously, his shoulders squared but still hunched over with grief. If she shut her eyes then she could recall the feeling of his head against hers as she rested on his shoulder, the soft fabric of his white shirt seemed to haunt her like a childhood memory; one filled with sorrow and affection all at once, hitting her as softly as a feather but just as powerful as a bullet.

She sat down where they had the day of James' mother's funeral and she allowed her eyes to close, she didn't need to be in school for almost two hours, and so she didn't intend to leave his memory's side until the last possible moment. Even if he wasn't here, she needed him, his memory, anything. Even if she hadn't replied to any of his letters in over a week, even if she hadn't replied to anyone's letters in longer. She needed him. She needed anything. Just Something. Something.

♥ ♥ ♥

(28th September 1977 continued)

Lily seemed to fade into Cokeworth Academy like the ghost she felt, travelling between classes thinner than mist and avoiding the unwanted gaze of analytical teachers.

She felt like a ticking bomb as well. Ready to detonate before she had the chance to stop it. It was almost impossible to barricade the feeling from exploding. If she felt it all then she'd never stop.

She thought of James. She wondered what he might be doing? Was he sitting in an equally boring lesson? Was he laughing with Sirius? With Esme-Leigh? And then another thought crossed her mind, one she should have known better than to think: was he thinking about her?

Dorcas found her alone at lunch, watching the primary school across the road as the children flounced around jovially, playing in assortments of games she vaguely recalled playing herself. Dorcas sat down next to Lily on the bench and slipped her hand into hers. Her hand was rich brown and silky smooth to the touch and it made the longing for something seem to dull ever so slightly.
Dorcas didn't ask any questions. She'd known her best friend long enough not to ask. Instead she began to talk, to banish the silence, it was replaced with empty words– fruitless rhapsody but Lily didn't seem to mind. Her best friend was a comfort but Lily couldn't help but wish she could be with another...

She was back in a classroom and the walls didn't take long to start to collapse. They crumbled around her head and Lily wondered if this was the end. Perhaps this was her time-bomb finally come to explode?

After school, she didn't bother spend time in the dark room, developing pictures. She wanted to go home.

The doors were filling with people streaming out like frantic tears but she barely took half a second to see the person waiting for her.

She stood in the middle of the sea of people, rooted to the spot. She wanted to run to him but her legs felt glued to the concrete. How?

Lily shook her head. It wasn't real. She was doing this to make herself miserable. Salty tears pricked her eyes and threatened to fall.

It was only when he began to move towards her that the binds she felt seemed to reduce to smoke and she broke into a run, leaping up and not caring how hard she crashed into him.

James Potter caught her, cradling her in his arms and stroking the back of her head with more altruism than she'd ever been near.
She tucked her chin into his shoulder and refused to let go. She'd asked for a miracle and he'd arrived with a smile beautiful enough to best an angel.

He still smelt like he had the last time she'd hugged him, like cigarettes, wood polish and autumn campfires, and as she held him close she realised there were so many thing she wanted to know, so many questions, so many things she wanted to tell him. But instead there was one question she needed to know first. She lifted her lips to his ear, still keeping him close:

"How did you know?"

James' cheek tightened and Lily could feel him smile. He was real. He was there and she wanted to cry and scream and laugh all at once. He was with her.

His answer was simple and she would be lying to say she didn't expect it.
"I just did."

(24th September 1977)

Four days. It had been four days since he'd sent that letter to Lily. Four days since she hadn't replied to him and four days wasted as he figured out what to do.

Her letters had been half hearted for a while before she stopped replying completely and James was painfully reminded of the days after his mother had died. Lily had comforted him and he realised she mustn't have been without her own demons. Everyone has their own dominoes that threaten to crush them everyday, but sometimes they loom closer than one is comfortable. He knew the feeling and hated himself for feeling so helpless to it. There should be something he could do to fix it.

He felt like Trudy– a compulsive need to fix everything before he was even sure it was broken.
He wanted to help her, needed to. Whatever it was she needed he wanted to be there to give it to her. His feelings aside he owed her a debt: she was there to hold his hand and rest on his shoulder the day of his mother's funeral and he felt like he owed her for brightening the worst day of his life with one of his most dearly treasured memories. He would give her just about anything for what she gave him. It was priceless. She was priceless...

The answer came to him a few days later as he burned holes into the marauders map with his hazel eyes. The secret passageway behind the one-eyed witch. It was obvious once he'd seen it, now all he needed was a plan...

♣ ♣ ♣

(28th September 1977 continued)

The plan hit him in much the same manner the answer did. With a punch in the gut. He was a Marauder.

"Where are you going?" Sirius asked him upon spying James' attempt to gather his things unnoticed in the boy's dorm. Sirius had left him on his old bed while he took a shower before dinner, he did not expect to come back to find James foraging for resources like a hunter.

"I'll be back before dawn." James replied, (obviously dodging the question) "cover for me?"

"Not unless you tell me where you plan on going without me."

This seemed to alarm James but only mildly, he still managed to appear composed as he stood accused by his best friend.
"Fine. Promise you won't tell? Marauders Honour?"

Padfoot gave him a look that need not be accompanied by words, frivolous things they are.
"I can't promise I won't tell Moony."

"In which case I won't tell you. Ez will cover for me, I'm sure."

"That's not fair!" Sirius was quick to rebut, momentarily pausing from his pressing task of pulling on a shirt, "she'd do pretty much anything for you!"

"Nah she wouldn't." Although he didn't try to hide his pink-blushed ears.

This only further proved Sirius' point, "she'd kill a man if you asked."

"She'd kill a man for fun," he dismissed with a wave of his hand that appeared more regal than necessary, "I'm not special."

Sirius, however, elected to ignore both statements James made, instead relenting:
"Fine, I'll cover. Take the mirror though okay?"

"Why?"

"There's a war on, mate."

"I know. Don't wait up."
And with that he slipped out the door, armed with a two-way-mirror, an invisibility cloak and the marauders map. He'd be fine.

♣ ♣ ♣

(28th September 1977 continued)

There are things one remembers and others that they dream of. To James, Lily Simpson –or rather Evans– was a mirage. He would blindly chase her, never once questioning her veracity until one day she might disappear.

That was how she looked when she set her eyes on him, like a mirage about to transform into thin air, or an innocuous tuft of smoke. She stood immobile for much longer than he had anticipated she would. Just looking at him, horrified and relieved all at once, like she could finally breathe after years without air, only to be told this was to be her final breath.

James smiled at his mirage, making his way towards her and breaking whatever spell held her back. Lily raced towards him, her seraphic auburn hair flowing out behind her like a cloak of flames licking the air in a seductive kiss.

When he caught her in his arms James understood the look she had worn not moments ago; the feeling of being gifted and denied air all at once, filled his every vestibule. But she was there. She was with him. Whatever oxygen he was denied would be worth it a million times over. He would breathe his last breath there and then if he could have her in his arms while he took it.

When she spoke her voice was soft–thick with emotion.
"How did you know?"

He could feel himself grinning before he was conscious of the choice to smile, his answer was obvious with everyday he'd spent looking out the window of his dorm, waiting on her replies.
"I just did."

They held on to one another for a chaste moment longer before seeming to remember they were still on school grounds. Bashfully, Lily pulled away, setting herself down and flashing him a smile that could stop his heart.

"How did you even get here?"

James shrugged, trying to conceal the panic that came with owing Lily an explanation. To tell her he had apparated was haply not the best idea and so he made his case in plain sight: "magic?" He replied.

She chuckled but he noticed the shiver running down her spine. Suddenly he was hit with the reminder he was looking at Lily Evans.

"Shut up and let's go," she said, glancing around with pink cheeks and a sheepish grin, shoving him by his square shoulders towards the gate.

"Why?"

"Because there are girls undressing you with their eyes!"

He smirked coquettishly, and snorting dismissively for good measure, "I'm used to that."

"Well I'm not. Move."

James only saw this as better opportunity to irk her, refusing to move as quickly as she was guiding him and letting his smirk form into a grin.
"You're not? I do it all the time!"

When she laughed it sounded like a snort, hardly elegant but just as beautiful, maybe even a little meek in its own way.
"Just move your arse!"

They grinned at each other and he held out his arm.
"Happy to. Only if you'll accompany me, however."
She took his arm in hers and somehow shone brighter.

♣ ♣ ♣

(28th September 1977 continued)

James led her into one of the only places he knew, Indulge Cafe. It was still as cosy as he'd remembered it being, the little door was decorated with a wooden sign reading 'open' and there were little fairy lights around the walls, tangled with vines of ivy.
He hadn't been in here since his argument with Lily, when his mother was alive but the usual stab of pain didn't seem to cause him so much agony, largely because Lily was smiling beside him, and she still held onto his arm.

Invincible. That was the only word he could think of that accurately described how she made him feel. Being with her was like jumping from one cloud to the next without fear of falling– or perhaps with the fear of falling but the knowledge that no matter how badly the landing hurt, she would be there to soften the blow with her smile when he hit the ground. Whatever happened couldn't kill him, because she was there. Invincible.

James opened the door for her and she led him to where he presumed she usually sat, and waved at a waitress he recognised but couldn't name.

"Caroline!" Lily beamed (James was reminded).

"Lily! How are you? I've got some extra muffins from today if you want them? They'll be going in the bin anyway? You'd be doing me a favour." The waitress –Caroline– said, wiping her palms on her apron and flashing James a welcoming smile.

"Would you? Thank you!" Lily grinned, her smile still there when Caroline left to fetch the muffins. She turned to James, "I'm assuming you like muffins?"

"Of course I'm not a monster. Nor a criminal."

"Oh really? And what constitutes either of those titles in your opinion?"

James chuckled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, "well for starters: anyone that doesn't sing the do do dos in Here Comes The Sun is practically a first degree criminal."

"Couldn't agree more!" They both laughed a little too loud for such a secluded rendezvous but neither seemed to mind.

Both knew why James was here, and eventually Lily would tell him her reasons for not replying to his letters, but for that moment laughing was all they had. And so they laughed, and giggled and chuckled until their sides split and their lungs nearly burst and it was the most perfect thing in the world.

"Right," James said eventually, "let's make a move."

"What?! I'm not even drunk yet!"

"Har har. Come on, Fanny Brice."

"What? Mansfield Park?"

James scoffed, "no –although I love that book– I meant Funny Girl."

Lily's eyes lit up with amusement, "really? I didn't know you liked Musicals?"

"You don't know me then. I'm a sucker for them: High Society especially. My parents—my dad— is particularly upper classly cultured so I practically fell out The Great Gatsby."

"No kidding?"

"Yeah! Now are we going or not?"

Lily stood up, pushing herself up from the take and leading the way out the door.
"Chop chop!" She smiled sardonically.

"Shut it, you."

Lily held out her hand and he took it.

♣ ♣ ♣

(28th September 1977 continued)

The skate park was deserted at that time of day, when the sun was setting meekly; no longer its flamboyant summer burst, but still beautiful enough to sparkle under the slow revelation of the constellations.

The night was clear and so Lily and James got a clear view of heaven as they lay on one of the ramps, legs swinging off the side and fingers intertwined.

"James?"

"Yeah?" He didn't turn to look at her, not yet, but he could feel her gorgeous eyes on him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything in the world and whatever's beyond." It was an odd line, he wasn't proud of it, but it was true.

"Whom do you love most in the world?"

Out of all the questions in the universe, this was one he didn't expect to fall from Lily's lips. But he made a promise and he answered, turning to look her in the eye he sighed, in thought.

"A lot of people. My dad, my mum– I still love her, Sirius is my brother, Marlene is my sister, Remus and Peter are my family too. A lot of people."

Lily thought of the letter on her desk, the final one she got before the replies stopped. It came from the girl he was yet to mention.

"What about Esme-Leigh? Do you love her?"

James felt his stomach tighten. He didn't like to think about Esme when he was with Lily. It was hard enough to keep the two separate in his mind, never mind out loud.
"I..." he paused, opening his mouth and closing it again. Somehow this felt like a test. "Well... yeah. Yeah of course I do."

That appeared to be the wrong answer. Lily looked away and back up to the sky, shielding her expression from him.

Quiet seeped in between them and Lily nearly didn't notice. It wasn't the same sort of silence she had grown used to. This one was almost comfortable. Almost.

"Lily, why did you stop writing?"

She couldn't ignore it any longer. He had come here to help her. She needed to allow herself to be helped, and so she held on tighter to his hand and turned back to face him, noticing he hadn't looked away.

They regarded each other for a moment and Lily was caught off guard by how golden his eyes looked up close, they seemed to change colour the longer she stared, like a kaleidoscope of forest green and molten gold.

"Because I couldn't face it."

"Why?" His voice was merely a whisper, as if talking too loudly might break her into a million pieces, or she might blow away into the gentle breeze.

"I... something happened."

This time James did not push her, he simply waited.

Lily regarded him a moment longer before coming to the conclusion that if she didn't speak then she might kiss him, so she opened her mouth again and let it pour out. She told him about her mother's drinking, her episodes of nothing at all. The way she stares into walls like they have the answer, the way that sometimes– when she's sober– she'll tell Lily that she loves her, and that's she's sorry. Lily told him about the hours she could spend curled on the sofa with her head in her mother's lap, allowing her to stroke her hair and keep her safe. She told James about that day. The day Petunia finally cracked. The day her sister hated her and the day the world flipped a million times, so quickly she wasn't quite sure which way was up anymore.
She told him about the deafening silence, how every second was like living in a graveyard, like everything there was already dead.
She told him how sometimes she could hear the ticking of a bomb in her head, and how she tried not to think about what might happen if it detonated...

But she didn't tell him about the broken picture frames scattered across the floor, the frames her magic had slashed. She didn't tell him about the Faith Evans she knew before the Hogwarts letter. And she didn't tell him about the figure that stood out in the street, the hooded man that winked and disappeared. Lucifer. She didn't tell James about him.

When she'd finished, James didn't speak, he kept their hand tightly in hers but he didn't speak. For a short, hideous moment, Lily wondered if he might not speak at all?

"You know, sometimes I lie in bed and I physically cannot move from how much I miss my mum." He said, carefully. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to move again. It makes me feel sick how much I miss her some days. And I know Marlene and Sirius feel it too– of course they do but it's never going to be quite the same, they both had special relationships with my mother but she was my mum, you know?"

Lily had no idea where he was going with this, nor why he'd chosen to bring it up but the sincerity in his eyes scorched her and yet she couldn't look away.

"But as much as there are days I forget I've got a life without her in it, there was always something that I would remember– actually, two things: the first one was that when she was about to die she wanted me there so she could feel me breathing. I counted her breaths too and I heard the last one. But she didn't hear mine. I know she'd kill me for wasting my life so I'm trying not to, I'm trying to fill it with things that make me happy." He gave her a pointed look and she blushed despite herself.

"That brings me into my second point. Every time I miss my mother I'm reminded of her funeral. And yeah, I remember the morbid bits and the sympathy, but the memory that's closest tied to that day is you. The memory of your head sitting on my shoulder, your little kiss that I still felt over my suit jacket because it wasn't pity that brought you up there: it was you. You being kind, and brave and somehow knowing it was exactly what I needed." James sighed, breaking his gaze to look at their clasped hands and blushing a little.

"What I'm trying to say is that somehow the memory of you has brought me out of it so many times. Just the fact you were there and you knew and you didn't try to make it better. So that's what I want to be for you. If you want me just to sit here with you and hold your hand then I'd be more than happy. If you don't want any more silence then I'll talk about whatever you like– maybe even all the Musicals I've seen?! Or if you want something else then name it and I'll do it. You've been my lifeline for months Lily. The least I can do is the same for you."

Lily didn't realise she was crying until James pulled the sleeves of his jumper over his free hand to wipe a tear from her cheek.
It felt stupid, to cry, and yet she couldn't seem to stop. There was a million things she wanted to say, perhaps even that she was half in love with him but that was just stupid...

"Thank you, James. I'd like that."

"Then whenever you need me I'll be here, okay?"

"Yeah."

They shared a smile that felt like a secret. James spoke before either could do something stupid:
"I've got the perfect idea."

The moment had gone but Lily didn't mind, he had this wonderful diablerie in his eyes, twinkling.
"Really?"

"Really. Hear that?" James put a finger on his lips.

"No?"

"Course you do. It's an ice cream van, probably on its last round before the night kicks in. Reckon we could chase it down?" He raised an eyebrow and Lily giggled.

"Potter, it's nearly October."

"All the more reason to go. Ice cream men and ladies won't get as much clientele: we'd be doing them a favour."

Lily grinned and James grinned back, eyes still coruscant.
"Fine. You've convinced me. Let's chase it down."

He didn't drop her hand as they climbed down from the ramp and hurried after the noise of the van...

When Lily got home it was late and there was a faint taste of ice cream in her mouth. But the best part was her expression. Lily came home smiling.

James was so uncomplicated that he somehow made everything seem easy. He made her invincible. That was the best way to describe it. She was smiling a long time after she got in the door, in fact, she didn't even check for Lucifer in the window, she didn't care. Invincible.

♥ ♥ ♥

(28th September 1977 continued)

Dreams waited beyond the veil of conscious thought. Lily Evans could feel them just out of reach in her mind, like they were convulsed in a thick fog of sobriety.

They were close enough to graze with her fingertips by the time her mother pushed open the door, much too lithe for her to be drunk. The sober Faith Evans found her way into Lily's room while she faked sleep.

The room was the quietest it had ever been in that short moment. She was right there. Yet Lily kept her eyes closed.
Just before the silence became palpable, her mother crossed the room and perched on the end of her bed.

Lily held her breath. Everything seemed so close, everything felt so tight. Like a thousand knots were all about to be cut apart at once.

"I'm trying, Lily."

She had spoken. Her mother had said something. Real words were on her lips and if she wouldn't give herself away then perhaps Lily might smile.

The wall of deathly silence crumbled to dust with three words. Three simple, innocuous words. Three words that meant everything to her.

Faith ran a finger up her daughters arm as tear drops began to land on the sheets.
"I promise I'm trying, darling. For you."

If she tried hard enough, Lily could dream of a world where it was possible to believe those words. Promises are, as far as Lily was concerned, just lies told in the future tense. But lies could be beautiful, they could be beguiling, they might even convince you to believe them. Lily had never wanted to believe anything more in her life.

Before she could draw another breath, Faith had slipped out the door, leaving the blanket of silence behind her.

But that was the least of it. The silence had been broken. As Lily drifted back into her state of daydreaming, she only just realised that she was expecting an explosion. Instead there was only silence.

Yes it's been seven million years since the last update but I've got a shit tonne of exams and all my free time has been on that, hopefully it was remotely worth it though?

Anyway, I really enjoyed writing a few of these scenes so lemme know what your favourite part was?

Love to all,

Abbi♥️