Chapter Text
An empty crisp packet skipped over the tarmac in front of her as Lily slipped out of the door.
It was another baking hot day and as she stepped out from under the shade of the church porch she fished her floppy sunhat from her bag.
Closing the creaking gate behind her, she heard the church bell strike noon. She sighed. One might feel rather moral when one volunteered to clean up after Sunday school but one felt rather tired by the time one finished.
Somehow the children had scattered little pieces of red and gold paper even under the pews they had been nowhere near.
She tucked her veil back into her bag, did the zipper and then strolled off down the road.
Lily stepped deftly around overflowing sacks of rubbish as she neared Shakespeare Street. Throughout her childhood she had always felt like their street was rather ironically named. With its boarded up windows and peeling paint there was nowhere she could less imagine to find the great bard.
In fact she could more imagine finding Shakespeare in a shadowy medieval version of the Hogwarts passage ways then she could imagine finding him in Cokeworth.
Unlike many others on the street, their house was meticulously kept. Bright sunflowers grew in a box on the window sill, the bin always stood tucked in the corner, never missing its lid and the door still gleamed dark green from when her father had repainted it three summers before.
Petunia had advocated for what Lily viewed as a distinctly sickly yellow colour but thankfully the rest of the family had agreed on a deep green like that of pine needles.
If only all Petunia and her had to disagree on was the correct colour of paint.
Lily took deep breaths as though preemptively forcing calmness would prevent her from snapping at whatever snide remark Petunia would undoubtedly make.
She knew from experience that this strategy was useless.
As she took the steep, and rather wonky, steps up to the front door at a run she heard a faint tapping sound above her head.
Peering upwards and simultaneously risking pitching herself down the stairs she made out a small grey owl scrabbling to perch itself on the first floor window.
She rolled her eyes.
For such seemingly intelligent creatures she’d have hoped that owls would have the brains to try around the back where they would almost always be able to slip in through the open kitchen window.
There was no risk leaving it open because, as her dad said, there was nothing to steal.
But no, the owls insisted on throwing themselves again and again at the windows on the front of the house and succeeding only in alerting the neighbours and probably knocking out a few more of their brain cells.
With a sigh she let herself in and with a smile to her father she hurried across the sitting room and up the stairs. She crossed her box bedroom in a couple of steps and fiddled with the rusty latch.
The little owl barged its way in before she had even got the window properly open.
It tumbled onto her bed, righted itself and held out its leg for her to remove the scroll. This was a rather tricky matter as the little fluffy thing wouldn’t stay still.
Finally she fought the letter off. “Wait a minute will you?” She asked the owl.
It hopped obediently onto the window sill and sat there, bobbing up and down slightly.
The scroll was sealed with sellotape and the parchment was thin.
She knew who this was from.
Dear Lily,
I hope you’ve had a more peaceful week than me, George has been boring me silly. ‘What’s Hogwarts like?’ ‘Who are the teachers?’ ‘Are they nice?’ And so on and so on.
I am pleased he is coming and all but…
I think I may have lost use of my ears by September first, though on the plus side that might make History of Magic more bearable.
Anyway I am writing to give you warning (nothing bad don’t worry) and encouragement I guess. Potter is planning a sort of house party thing where we all go over to his for a night next week. The so-called marauders will be there of course, along with Marlene and I think Sam though I don’t know if she’s accepted yet. The reason you haven’t heard about this yet is because he’s nervous to ask you and asked me to tell you that he promises he will only ask you out once over the course of the stay and that you had better come.
I’m going to go so do be a good sport and come, otherwise you’ll be the only Gryffindor missing. Also I don’t want to go without you as the boys will drink a lot, Sam’s too weak to say no and Marlene will be the most wasted of the lot.
I don’t think I want to be the only one with a brain enough to stop before I’m on the floor.
Do come.
Lots of love
Mary xxx
P.S. Did you see the awful news about what happened in Northampton? I cried for hours.
Lily smoothed the parchment and sat down on her bed.
She sighed.
She wanted to see Mary and Marlene and Sam but… was it worth it if she had to spend time with the self-styled ‘marauders’.
She smiled slightly as she remembered the boys’ horror the previous year when it had been revealed that the whole of Gryffindor house knew their oh so secret name for themselves.
As she sat she heard a loud clunk on the window and looked up to yet another owl perched on her window sill.
This one was larger with silky black feathers and a wickedly curved beak. Unlike the little bird that now bounced up and down on her window sill waiting for her answer this new owl did not try to force itself in through the smallest crack. Instead it sat patiently on the window sill until she got up and pulled the window further ajar.
This owl kept quite still as it held out its leg, giving the other owl a distinctly disgusted look as it did so.
This second letter was written on thicker parchment but the writing was rather scribbled.
Lily,
You up for a party? My house on the 26th Starting at 6 but please come earlier as I have not seen you all summer
Mary, Marlene and Sam are coming so you can’t say no
See you soon
James
P.S don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind?
James’ letter made her pulse quicken. There was such an arrogance to it, such an assumption that she would come, that it was his right to ask.
She took a piece of notepaper from her desk and nearly wrote a grumpy response.
But she stopped herself.
Why deprive herself the joy of seeing her friends just because she couldn’t swallow her pride.
She began to write.
Dear Mary,
You will be pleased to hear that I have been missing you too! I hope George hasn’t quite killed your ears yet as that would be a rather unfortunate handicap for NEWT year.
I wonder what house George will be in. From what you have told me of him I would guess maybe Hufflepuff, but you will be a better judge.
I do find it peculiar that you are both magical, how are your investigations into your family history going? Uncovered any skeletons in the wardrobe?
You have succeeded at convincing me so will see me at Potter’s on the 26th (though I may regret this decision). This was due entirely to your very convincing letter and not his very arrogant one.
What are you wearing? I was thinking either my tied shirt and jeans, or the navy dress though that is a little small now. Let me know.
Fear not, I’ll join you in the league of common sense at the party. Sometimes I think the pair of us should have been Ravenclaws!
The Northampton murders were awful. The youngest was 8. I dreamt last night it was Petunia and my parents.
How much have you told your family?
Stay safe,
All my love
Lily xxx
When she was finished she ripped the paper under her letter and began to write on the other half.
Potter,
I’ll come to the party but you have Mary’s persuasion techniques to thank rather than your own.
I hope all the ‘marauders’ are well and on a serious note I hope you’ve all been safe over the summer.
Yours Lily
#
The day of the party spun around quicker than Lily would have liked and before she knew it she found herself sitting on her bed with a battered backpack at her feet. The end of her hairbrush jutted against the fabric, sure to prod into her back when she put the bag on.
She pulled her alarm clock towards her. Half an hour before she ought to leave. It was a tiny clock inside a pink padded case. It had been her mother’s but several years ago had become rather unreliable and Mrs Evans had missed the start of one too many shifts. At that point it had been handed over to Lily with the instruction that hitting it against one’s dresser a few times before getting into bed generally set it on the right track for waking one up in the morning.
There was a gentle tap on the door and a shiny blonde head poked its way into the room.
Tuney had done so much babysitting just to afford it that Lily had never had the heart to tell her that it dwarfed her already thin and slightly horsey face.
Petunia gave her a smile, her face flushed. She carried two mugs of tea, setting one down on the bedside table and cradling the other on her lap.
“Lily?” She asked.
“Hmm?”
“Lily I need your advice I… well Michael has proposed and I do want to I suppose but it feels awfully young and of course he’s not Catholic.”
Lily stared at her, her mouth open and then laughed. “Well he’s certainly eager I’ll give him that.”
Petunia took a long gulp of tea. “Oh I know and of course I do like him very much, I think I could love him but well he’s CofE and not that devout at that”
Lily raised an eyebrow. “When have you cared about denomination? Neither of us could tell you why the Pope is right, I mean I believe he is but…” she struggled. “The differences are really so little. Are you sure that’s the reason you’re doubting?”
Petunia ran a hand through her hair. “Oh I just don’t know, it’s so sudden!”
“Well, do you want to marry him?”
Petunia sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Ask him to wait, this isn’t something you ought to rush into. If he is the right one then he’ll be happy to wait.”
Petunia took another long draft of tea. “You’re right.” She paused. “You’re sure he’ll wait?”
“If he’s everything you’ve made him out to be he’ll be happy to.”
#
Lily stood in the garden, her hair whipping around her and the backs of the terrace on the next street looming over her.
Her battered old backpack was slung over one shoulder and her family assembled around her.
“It’s only a night and yet I have a seeing off committee!” Lily laughed.
Her mother smiled and pecked her cheek. “Well we’re all eager to see this apparition thing!”
Behind their mother, Petunia rolled her eyes.
Her father hugged her and then Petunia slightly reluctantly followed suit.
“Ready?” Lily asked, clutching her bag.
Her parents nodded.
She fixed the name ‘Potter House’ in her mind and then spun into nothingness. She had only a second of relief that she hadn’t flunked it in front of her family before tight bands were squeezing her chest.
She was spun until she felt her lungs would burst and just when she was sure that she couldn’t bear it anymore she stumbled onto a slope of grass.