| -=Lily's Seventh Year; Chapter One=- |
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| She was quieter than she had been in months; without a word, she settled into her room, quietly, she unpacked her trunk and went down to dinner. Lily wasn't used to the silence that had draped itself over the dinner table that night; she wasn't used to the turkey that still had its innards in the plastic bag inside it (Petunia had forgotten to remove it), and even less familiar was she with the glances she kept getting shot with from her father and sister. All in all, it was an extremely uncomfortable meal, and Lily felt herself wishing that she was anywhere else; by now, even a black hole was sounding interesting and as if it contained edible, well-cooked food. After dinner, Petunia had removed herself to her room, and her father was busily attacking a heap of papers on one end of the dining-room table, while Lily, with a sigh, moved over to the sink, pulled out a dishcloth from a drawer, and started to wash the plates on the counter. No one really spoke much that evening; as a matter of fact, the only thing that was said was "Petunia, what is that?" which was stated after her father had accidentally bitten into a piece of the plastic bag with turkey intestine inside it. Lily slipped into bed with the deepest dissatisfaction imprinted onto her forehead; in other words, she was frowning. Over the next few days, her father dragged her around to several of his business parties or dinners; Lily honestly didn't see the point of this; if his business was as in as much trouble was he said it was, why bother to host parties? She met only one or two people her age there; one a girl with dishwater blond hair, unmatching rings in the hundreds, and a purple dress that reminded Lily rather strongly of an eggplant. She wasn't very friendly, either; her name was Gertrude Richardson, and she liked peas, as she informed Lily on their first meeting. The other person she met was actually two years older than she was. His father owned a large company, the name of which meant about as much to Lily as "Bzzrjwilk" did, but he evidently expected her to recognize it. If he hadn’t been acting as annoyingly superior as he was, Lily would actually have found him handsome; he had blond, cornsilk hair and sea-grey eyes, or, unromantically, hair that looked like it had come into too much contact with the bleach usually found next to washing machines and cement-colored holes in his head. Still, the latter description wasn’t one that jumped to Lily’s mind; she leaned towards the former. He was dressed in a grey business suit, which made him appear at least two years older than he was. Lily didn’t think she would like to talk to him much at first, but he came over to her while she was trying to salvage her white dress from a punch stain, handed her some napkins from the table, and tried to help her. Both of them started to laugh when she shredded one of the paper napkins into tiny pieces trying to get the red stain out of her dress, and by the time they had stopped, Lily had decided he wasn’t so bad to talk to. His name was Richard Woodsen, he went to a boarding school somewhere in Wales, he liked cats but couldn’t stand the fur they kept shedding (he had five), his birthday was December fourteenth; he worked at a bookstore even though his father could have bought seven of the same shops and never have noticed the difference in his bank account, he loved anything about the ancient Egyptians; he wanted to become an archeologist when he was older, and couldn’t wait to get out of the house so he could travel places. She kept seeing him again; at almost every business dinner she was forced to go to, he was there. Serena had attended several of them; Rowland Sikora had started going deeper into trying to understand Muggle ways of life, so he was taking an interest in several firms and their job openings; he was planning to give the jobs to several wizards that would be happy to take them. Serena tried to talk to Richard and Lily (well, actually, Richard), but Lily’s new friend didn’t seem to like her much; he hardly talked to her and looked rather bored when she was speaking to him and flicking her hair over her shoulder for effect. One evening, about three days before Lily’s birthday, she was at another event; this one was the grand opening of a theatre. Her father had almost literally pushed her into a dark grey, floor-length dress, and she was wearing a necklace of paste diamonds. She had been rushed out of the house in such a hurry that she hadn’t had time to put her hair up in a knot; it was hanging down her back, loose, when they arrived at the theatre. Almost magnetically, Richard found her; threading through the crowd, he took her arm; they joined the crowd that stood around a fat, old man with an ornamental knife in his hand; he was standing behind the blue ribbon furled across the doorway. After a short speech, he raised the knife, and, with incredible force for a man so small, brought it down on the blue band, which tore in the middle. The crowd outside filed in, and a society murmur of small-talk began drifting through the lobby. Richard handed her a sliver of cake. “It’s not much, but more people showed up than I thought they would.” Lily smiled. “That’s all right—I don’t think I’m all that hungry, anyway.” She accepted the napkin and plate; moving towards the wall, they found two chairs. Richard shook his head, grinning. “You know, I never expected to meet people here that I actually would like—thank goodness your father likes to take you along!” She laughed. "I thought the same thing—I never would have enjoyed these dusty old croaks telling me how red my hair is over and over and over again…You know, the most annoying things people tell you are usually obvious facts?” Richard handed her a glass of something that looked like champagne and probably was. “Like what?” ”Oh—“ Lily shrugged. “Like, ‘You have punch on your dress,’ or ‘Your eyes are very green,’ or even ‘You don’t look like you’re forty.’ It’s amazing, the things people come up with—I think they talk to keep from thinking.” “That’s true!” He laughed along with her. “They probably do.” Just then, the cathedral’s clock struck eight o’clock, and Richard pulled out a a grayish-blue box from inside his jacket. “Lily?” “Yes?” she asked, spinning around to face him. “I—er, I brought you something…I don’t think I’ll see you again before your birthday, so…” He handed her the package. “I hope you like it.” Rather awkwardly, Lily reached for it. “Thanks. You didn’t have to…you know that.” “Yes, but I wanted to. Open it,” he insisted. She smiled at him and gently lifted the lid off of the box. Inside was a small bracelet only an eighth of an inch wide, golden, with a miniature inscription in hieroglyphics on the inside and a larger one on the outside. Lily looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you.” He grinned. “If you translate it, it’s a message I ordered the people that made it to put on there…” “I’ve got a book on translations at home…well, actually, a bookshelf. I’ll do that first thing, then.” ”Actually…”—here he looked rather embarrassed—“I’d rather you did it on your birthday…I meant it for then.” Surprised, she dropped the bracelet back into the box and slid it into her pocket. “Of course, if you’d like.” ”I would like, actually…” ”Then I’ll do that,” she smiled. The evening of her birthday, Lily was sitting on the sill of her open window, dressed in only a white summer nightgown, staring outside at the night sky shot with dusky clouds. Nothing special had happened that day; for all she experienced, it was just like any other. Still…well, this was her last summer at home, her last birthday she’d spend here. She wasn’t coming back here after she finished Hogwarts; she was accepting the job as a student or substitute professor at the school if she couldn’t find a job elsewhere. It was sickening, the way people stayed out of her way here…Petunia had kept Vernon Dursley away from the house, and she herself hardly lived there while Lily was in the house. She kept expecting her father to forbid her return to Hogwarts the next year, but he was either too nervous to or he had a good reason not to… And no packages had come from her friends; not even a short Happy Birthday on a piece of parchment… For the first time in her life, Lily knew what it was to feel completely and utterly alone. When her mother had died, she had still had friends, and when some people had deserted her, she still had others to stand by her. Winking away tears, she took the grey-blue box out of her pocket and slid the lid off. Picking up the golden bracelet, she dangled it in front of her eyes, then let it fall into the palm of her hand…Richard hadn’t forgotten her… She let the tears run freely down her face as she stared at the moonlight glinting off of the gold in her fingers. Reaching for a book that she had placed on the floor beside her, she flipped to the alphabet of the ancient Egyptians. She stayed up for the rest of the night, wanting to go to sleep but being unable to. What she had read had brought something to her—a feel of assurance and support she hadn’t felt in ages. Remember, someone, somewhere, loves you was written on the outside; the inside held this inscription: And he may be closer than you think. The next morning, one owl dropped by; Lora and Eva had sent her something; a journal, covered with garnet velvet. Embossed in silver, on the cover, were the words: A book someone will publish someday—no one has thoughts like you do! Lora had written a short note on the inside, and she and Eva had signed it. Lily, Happy birthday, first of all. Secondly, don’t kill anyone before Hogwarts starts next term. It’s irreversible. Lora & Eva This be’eth from thine companion, Eve—Ignore her. I know you won’t kill anyone. Have a good summer, a happy sixteenth, and I heard you made a friend already. Can you introduce him to me? Is he a wizard? How often have you seen him? (This from Lora, who has been reading over my shoulder. Read this in an interrogatory, slightly displeased and slightly humorous tone) Is he stuck on you? Eva & Lora, who really wanted her name first! Is he stuck on you? That sentence kept reverberating around inside her head for the rest of the day… She saw Richard once before she received her letter for Hogwarts; at a speech at a private school she asked him what he meant by the inscriptions. “Oh, nothing, really,” he evaded—“I guess you’ll find out some day.” “Is that a hint?” “Maybe. Ssh; Father’s glaring at me—we’ll talk later.” Maybe. They didn’t get to speak again that night; Lily’s father insisted that she be in bed before ten-thirty, so she left without telling anyone that she was leaving. After that, she didn’t see him again that summer. Lily was sitting at the kitchen table around ten in the morning near the end of July; she was glaring at the headline of the newspaper, though she hadn’t bothered to read the headline. It was the first time she had ever managed to stare at something for a half hour and not know what it said. The large Hogwarts barn owl that swooped down through the window neatly dropped the envelope it was carrying on top of the newspaper, turning her attention from the headline that, as far as she was concerned, was informing the world about the dreadful infestation of fire ants to the Union of Snake Rings. Lily picked up the letter, slit the envelope open, and drew the enclosure out. Dear Miss Evans, We are pleased to inform you of your selection for this year’s Head Girl. This is a great honor and responsibility that you have been chosen to carry, and we ask you to treat it as such. Your responsibilities will include, among other things, the control of the behavior of the students as far as your capabilities may reach. You are permitted to remove or bestow points to or from Houses with a valid reason, and you are permitted to bestow detentions on students with a valid reason. If you have any other questions, please address Professor Dumbledore. Signed—Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress There was another sheet included, but at the bottom of the supply list there was another, formerly nonexistent, phrase, right beneath bellinger paste for Potions. Dress robes. Lily walked into Madam Malkin’s Dress Robes for All Occasions rather awkwardly the next day. She had never gone shopping for any sort of robes other than regular school ones, and she felt appallingly self-conscious as she perused ready-made ones and patterns and fabric samples. There were more kinds of robes in that store than she ever hoped to encounter; wide ones, tight ones, short, long, full, draping, trailing, short sleeves, long sleeves, trailing sleeves, low necklines, high necklines, square necklines...and the colors, too. Lily’s hand went out towards a forest-green crushed velvet pair of robes sewn with gold thread, with a gold cord and tassels that tied around the waist, but then she drew back; they were too expensive. Farther on back in the store were accessories; hats, cloaks, slippers, scarves, socks, and even corsets. Lily’s eyes widened when she saw those. She had always wanted to wear one, and now she might have the chance—if only they didn’t cost several fortunes apiece. As luck would have it, as she riffled through them, her hand fell on a dark indigo velvet corset that looked about her size—her hand quickly snatched for the price tag. She breathed in relief. Two Galleons—that wasn’t so bad. Madam Malkin came bustling over, with the everlasting pins in her mouth. “Still looking, are we, dear? Oh—look at you; hardly anyone wants these—but that one would look wonderful on you. Let’s see—what color scheme do you want to go with? Oh—wait just a minute; I’ve got just the thing…” She rustled off, leaving Lily with a rather discontented expression; she knew she’d have to turn down the expensive dress robes she knew the lady would fling at her. Still, as she was shunted into a dressing room with the corset and a pair of white silk dress robes, so translucent, gauzy, filmy, diaphanous, and pearly she couldn’t resist them, she made up her mind to try her best to buy them if they fit her. They did fit her. Long and graceful, they fell to the floor and swung gently when she moved. The makers of it had used at least six yards of the silk for the body of the robes, so that they appeared beautifully white; no one could see through them at all. The sleeves were ones that could be found on old fencing shirts; they billowed out below her wrist, but were gathered just at her wrist by a band of white satin that she could either tighten there or loosen, letting the sleeves hang below her hands, in the style of medieval noblewomen, who wore their sleeves so long that they had to tie knots in them so as to keep them out of their way. The oval neckline, when she slipped the corset on over her head, fringed her shoulders and front nicely, and Lily only wished she could pay for this. In the mirror, she looked like an old-fashioned queen; the only time she had ever really wanted to look nice, she wouldn’t be able to. She hadn’t ever looked this—this elegant, this—well, this thin in her lifetime, and, for once, Lily felt that she looked like someone people wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with. There was no price tag on the dress, so when she emerged from the fitting room, she had to move towards the front of the store, where Madam Malkin was wrapping up a pair of black robes for a small and frightened Muggle-born first year. She didn’t interrupt just yet; there was a mirror near a stand of hats, and she stepped in front of it, twirling slightly, feeling the silk, and looking at herself; something she hadn’t done in ages. When she turned around again to check whether Madam Malkin was finished, she caught a pair of eyes looking at her from the doorway. Blushing a bit, she fumbled, looking for a stray thread, but there wasn’t one. Still, he stepped inside. “Lily?” Her face bright pink, she evaded his eyes. “Hello.” Severus smiled at her. “You look nice. Are you getting those?” “Oh—no,” she stammered. “No—I don’t think so. I don’t even know what they’re for…” “Well, that’s no reason not to. You look beautiful; come on, you’ll be the belle of whatever they’re having.” “Thank you,” she mumbled. “I still don’t know…” Madam Malkin finally closed the cash register, and Lily gratefully took this moment to escape Severus. She didn’t know why, but she was feeling awfully shy all of a sudden, and she didn’t like that. “Er—Madam Malkin?” The plump, middle-aged lady spun around. “Yes, dear—Oh, my goodness, that looks nicer than I thought it would—turn around, sweet, and let me see—oh, yes, definitely, this one is specially for you…” Lily had to interrupt the tirade. “How much is it, please?” ”Oh, yes, the cost…well, we’ll see. Twenty Galleons, five Sickles, dear.” It had been too much to hope for. Lily only had thirty-three Galleons and fourteen Knuts, total, for her school shopping, and she still hadn’t gotten her books yet. Twenty Galleons was just too much. “Er—thanks. Thanks very much.” She turned away from the lady and started looking through sashes to hide the momentary wet glimmer that had jumped to her eyes. When she turned away from the sashes, her eyes were dry, and Severus was gone. Thanking him silently for leaving, she threaded her way through the piles of dress robes on the floor that were slowly accumulating. Then, as she was flitting behind a mirror, someone took her hand. She spun around, and the person let go. “I thought it was you.” ”James? What—what’re you doing here?” He smiled. “Buying dress robes…same as you, I’m guessing.” ”Oh—no, no, I’m not.” “Well, why’re you wearing those, then?” he asked, gesturing to her attire. “Oh—I’m not buying these—I’m not getting any.” He frowned. “Why not?” He saw her eyes lose the embarrassed glint; instead, a heartrending sigh took its place. “You look beautiful.” Her eyes whipped to his. “What?” she asked. She couldn’t quite grasp what he had just said… “You look beautiful.” “Really?” He smiled. “Really.” “Er…thanks.” “Sure. No problem. I guess for once I don’t have a problem with telling the truth.” She smiled. “Thanks. It’s nice to know that you think so…oh, but never mind.” Her sweet manner was suddenly replaced with hurt impatience. “Never mind, don’t bother telling me that, I won’t be wearing them, and you’ll recognize me as the little electrocuted phoenix from your second year. Please move—I’m going to change.” She started for the fitting rooms, but he held her back by an arm around her waist. “Hold it, now—hold on! What’s wrong, Lil?” “Nothing,” she gasped out between frustrated tears that insisted on leaking out for no real reason whatsoever, besides embarrassing her in the middle of a store. “Nothing—please go away. Please go away…you’re making everything worse.” “Lil, what’s wrong?” ”Oh!” She whirled to face the mirror; she couldn’t leave; he was pinning her to the wall. Unwillingly, and in spite of all common sense, she started to cry again. “It’s just that…well, for the first time in my life, I want to look nice…and I get the chance to—and I can’t pay for it—and it’s driving me mad. Please go away. You’re only making it worse.” His face cleared. “Is that all?” “Yes, that’s it. I know it’s rather hard for the rich and famous James Potter to understand that one of the populace can’t pay for a pair of dress robes, but—Oh, just leave!” “Lily.” His firm tome made her turn around. “If that’s what’s bothering you—then I’ll get them for you.” “No.” Her voice was firm. “I don’t take charity.” He smiled. “You’re very proud, aren’t you? This isn’t charity. I forgot about your birthday, and I’m making it up to you. Take it. You wouldn’t return a birthday gift, would you?” In spite of herself, Lily had to laugh. “You do find the oddest ways of getting around me, don’t you?” “Oh,” he sighed, grinning, “you’re fun to talk to.” Helplessly, she smiled through curtains of tears. Then, on an impulse, she did something that surprised both of them; she flung her arms around his neck in a strangling hug, still crying almost hysterically into his shoulder. She let go quickly, however. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to do that. I just felt so—well, happier than I’ve been in a long time.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mind so much. So—how much is this creation,” he asked, appreciatively eyeing the silk. “Twenty Galleons and five Sickles—I can pay ten of them, and I can pay for the corset—“ “Oh, no, you’re not! I forgot about your birthday, remember? This goes on me.” ”James Potter!” “Hey, if you don’t accept them, I’ll buy them anyway and throw them over a bridge. You’re wearing these to that event we’re having, or I’ll have a good reason why not.” A last tear ran down her cheek. “Thank—you—“ she managed. She returned home that day with the white silk dress robes and the corset packaged in pale blue tissue paper. James had insisted on it, and finally she had given in. Lily was happier that afternoon than she had been in days; she was humming es of an old Civil War song as she stood at the stove, and the whole month before September first, though she hardly heard from anyone and she didn’t speak much to Petunia and her father, she was brimming with exhilaration. |