III.
Circles, ovals, zig zags, up and down, left to right, then the final scrawl with a flourish. My hand put down the pen it was using to sign the paper on the messenger’s clipboard.
“Thank you, miss,” he says curtly, taking back the clipboard and hugging it to his chest. I wonder if he wanted to receive letters like the Bobs, the Sues or me on the list? I wonder if he wants someone to pay attention “ to know he’s alive, too?
“Here you are, miss,” says the messenger, digging into the wet leather pouch hanging on his side and producing a simple envelope. White and crisp like the hospital corridors.
“Have a nice day, miss.”
“Sure,” I say, taking the envelope. I shut the door as he turns around with a puzzled expression, putting on his battered cap and stepping into the steady rain drizzling from the clumped, dense gray clouds. It looks like the whole sky is getting ready for something, its masses of clouds marching with heavy steps, looking down on the scurried lives down here.
Placing the envelope on my breakfast table (really, my only table), I stand back and scrutinize it, titling my head to the right. I fear it might jump at me, pulling my hair and telling me, “I’m here, I’m here. Didn’t think I would be, did you?”
I did think so. But I didn’t want to believe it.
The envelope is from the stars. I know it.
A letter from Muggle post, a special letter. One that was sent from someone who wanted to make sure I received the letter without any hindrance like my tearing it up if I got it through the regular mail. Strange “ I didn’t correspond with anyone, Muggle or Wizard alike.
Finally I step forward, and taking a deep breath, I tear open the seal with my ring finger, the one I used to trace James’s lips with. Slowly I do this, as though the more time that passed before my reading the letter, the more I can stop the inevitable from happening. But as it always does, the inevitable always happens.
Lily,
I don’t use “dear” because I’m not sure if I can call you that anymore.
I am on a short holiday from my Auror training, here in Romania. I will be in London this weekend, and I want to talk with you. I’ve heard that you hardly leave your house, but if you decide to do so in case you want to avoid me, you needn’t try. My Auror training will compensate; I’ve been taught to find anyone, anywhere.
James
“Perfect,” I muttered, tossing the letter over my shoulder and sinking down onto my crooked dining chair. James is coming. Isn’t that what I wanted? The stars did transmit the message…but now I wasn’t sure if he should come.
I didn’t want him to see me like…this. I used to be so vivacious, so warm, so funny. That was before I realized I wasn’t. It was all in the package of the part I was playing in my fantasy world, the world I felt I was princess of “ in control of everything, even life and death.
Life and death. I loved one and was unafraid of the other. They had been my minions, at my beck and call. Youth blinded me and made me think that I could control you both. How wrong I was.
My parents weren’t supposed to die. Gwen wasn’t supposed to become permanently paralyzed. And once the inevitable happened, I tried with all my might to catch up to it “ to STOP IT as I would a plate from breaking “ but I wasn’t able to.
And now James strides into the picture, thinking that he’ll find the old Lily, the one he fell in love with. But all he’ll find is her casket.
Lily, Lily…listen to yourself, a voice inside my head chastised me. You sound so gloomy and bitter. Return to who you were! Return to what was safe.
I stride over to my heaping pile of books, which are crammed into the metal bookcase next to the overstuffed loveseat of my tiny living room. Crouching down, I flutter my fingers over several books until I find it: a dusty, faded album. It used to be of just a plain black cloth, but in our nostalgic weeks of pre-graduation, Alice, Riona (how much I miss her!) and I filled our hands with construction paper, used dress sequins, old ballroom ribbons, spare buttons from cloaks used in our old adventures, and our fingers’ ink prints. Combined together, they decorated my album, identical to the ones Alice and Riona made, of our years in Hogwarts. As I opened the book, leaning back against my whitewashed wall, a slight shiver ran through me. The ghosts of the past and the whispers of their memories seemed to penetrate the room and seep into my own heart.
Biting my lower lip I turned to the first page, the one taken of Alice and I in our first-year, giggling and making peace signs at the camera. Alice was patting her satin pink ribbon while I made faces at whoever had taken our picture. The crinkling of pages was the only sound in the room as I went through page after page: Riona and I in our fourth year, her long black hair flying around her like a cloak, mine desperately falling from the ponytail, both of us laughing our heads off as we run backwards in front of the towering castle…Remus, Sirius and Peter (how long has it been since I’ve seen them?), hiding behind a statue of Boris the Bewildered, holding dungbombs in their hands as they get ready to aim at some innocent passing second years…Riona, Alice and I, in our Christmas ball dresses, attempting to look like ladies…Alice and Frank, dancing with such elegance and waving at me…Riona singing for us, her eyes shining.
And then I flipped to the latter part of the album, where I knew the special section was. Love sick as I had been, I had dedicated several pages to pictures of only him and I, in our seventh year “ the year we seriously began seeing each other.
Each picture told our story better than I could ever do. James and I, staring at each other, our foreheads touching; James holding me in his arms, about to toss me into the lake, deaf to my cries and beatings on his shoulder to try and stop him; James with his arms around Remus and Sirius, all three beaming into the camera and winking roguishly; but my favorite one of him was last. It showed James, his athletic frame stretched out on the empty field beyond the Quidditch pitch, glasses on top of his mussed black hair. His arms were folded behind his head, and his warm hazel eyes were smiling up at me, taking his picture. The magical elements of the photograph enabled him to look more alive than any mundane Muggle picture could ever do.
“Why are you coming here?” I whispered. But he only winked in response, deaf to my cries once more.
----
James’s arrival that day was like my past catching up to me again, reminding me of what I once was; I had been running away from that realization for the past two years. I didn’t want to see its reflection in his eyes.
But I also knew that I couldn’t avoid James, even if I ran off, which occurred to me more times than I could count as I waited for him that evening. He would know where I was, Auror training or not. He always did know me better than I knew myself.
So here I sit, clad in a pair of plain jeans and the violet peasant blouse I had worn the entire day. I hadn’t bothered to fix myself up; why should I? He was most likely only coming here for a little while. We didn’t have much to say to each other.
A small card had arrived earlier, with his name (all professional-like: James F. Potter, Junior Auror 1st class, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic, London Headquarters) and only two words written on the back: seven o’clock. He always did like to remain mysterious, I thought, shaking my head.
And then my door’s knocker sounded. Two determined thumps. My heart drumming loudly in my ears, I stood up and made my way to the door, hesitating before I opened it. I turned all three locks and one hook, then pulled back the door.
There he was.
His cloak was soaking wet, its ends dripping rainwater on the hallway’s checkered linoleum floor. He had pulled down his hood a while ago, I suspect, because his hair (my heart beat louder as I noticed it was as mussed, as black, and as energetic as ever) was damp, as were his black collared robes. Because the corridor’s lighting was very dim, I couldn’t really outline his face, but I knew he was examining me as closely as I was doing to him.
“Hi,” he said, haltingly. Unsure. Something James had never been.
“Hello,” I replied, before turning around and leaving the door open for him to pass.
James cleared his throat before stepping into my flat, and I immediately felt as if I had let a stranger inside. Who was this tall, muscled, suntanned man standing before me? He only seemed like a shadow of the athletic and grinning boy I used to know.
But he still wore his glasses. They glistened under my flat’s fluorescent lighting as he took off his cloak and folded it over one of my dining chairs. I grew only a bit more comfortable, and I sat down on my sofa, my legs folded underneath me.
“Why are you still wearing your glasses?” I asked him abruptly.
He gave a small jump as if he were surprised I could speak. Gesturing to the armchair across from me, he silently asked if he could sit down. Ever the gentleman. When I nodded, he settled into it and leaned back, trying to gain some ground of security in the distance I was emphasizing between us.
“I guess I’m used to them,” he responded like there had been no interruption. “They’ve been with me almost my entire life. I don’t see why I should take them off even if there’ve been some new charms to correct eyesight.”
“So you don’t like change.” I said this with resolution, not bothering to be polite. Why should I be? There was nothing between us anymore.
“I don’t like to give up on anything,” James corrected, his eyes appraising me. I didn’t like his gaze; I felt like I was some puzzle he was trying to break. So I changed the subject.
“How have you been?” I figured that was the usual thing to ask when one hasn’t seen their boyfriend/lover/almost-fiancé for two years.
“Oh, you know, I’ve been busy with training and all,” James nodded, taking this question in stride. I hated his affected easiness. “I’ve been in Romania for the past seven months, learning how to deal with dark magical creatures. It’s…been interesting.” He cleared his throat once more.
“You’re almost finished, right?” I asked, my eyes wandering to the dirty dishes in my sink. A fly buzzed around, trying to hunt for remains.
“Yeah. I only have a year to go.”
“Well, that’s nice.”
“Your hair is, erm shorter,” James observed, trying to renew the dead conversation.
I fingered the ends of my auburn hair, which stood a few inches above my shoulders. “Yeah, I got tired of my long hair,” I lied, knowing that I would never tell him the real reason. Dad always loved my long hair.
“Don’t ever cut your hair, puppet,” Dad said with a smile at me, as he took some toast from the platter on the breakfast table. “You look like Rapunzel with that abundant hair of yours. A real Titanian princess.”
A pregnant pause followed. The fly lost interest in my dirty plates and meandered to my potted white roses.
“Lily, I hate this.” James never could handle silence. And then I realized it’s the first time he said my name for so long; despite his affected formality, even he couldn’t stop his tongue from caressing my name and rolling it out with gentleness. “Why are you being so cold to me?”
I was momentarily flustered from hearing him saying my name, just like he used to before…before everything. All I could give was a meager excuse. “I’m just tired.”
“No, you’re not,” James countered, shaking his head. He rubbed the back of his head in frustration. “You’ve…you’ve hidden yourself away, Lily. Away from me, away from Alice, away from Riona “”
“Riona’s gone,” I calmly say. “She’s been gone since graduation, you know that.”
“But I know you two have corresponded since then.”
My old temper flared up; it tended to do whenever I wanted to get away from him. “How do you know that? Have you been snooping through my letters? How pathetic, James. That’s a new low, even for you.”
James clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. “I know because she wrote to me, Evans. At least, from the only letter that could reach me. She said she hasn’t heard from you since our last day at Hogwarts.”
“So?” I shot back. “It was best for her, James. Best for everyone that I didn’t contact them.”
“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?” James whispered, leaning forward. When I pulled away, folding myself into my space, he swallowed and leaned back again. “You didn’t want us to see you hurting so much?”
I arched an eyebrow, throwing him a small, disdainful smile. “Oh yes, I was so concentrated on not trying to hurt your feelings, even though I had two funerals to plan as well as attend to my comatose cousin. How very astute of you, Potter.”
His eyes flashing with anger, James threw up his hands in exasperation. “What do you want me to say, Lily? Give me a hand here! I can’t help you if don’t want to help yourself. I’m not saying mourning for your parents or attending your cousin is wrong “ I admire you for caring for them until their last moments! But you can’t keep mourning forever, Lily, they wouldn’t want you to do that!”
I jumped up, his words stinging too close too home. My whole body was stiff with icy confrontation. “How do you know I want to be helped, James? Don’t start playing the little hero with me. I don’t need rescuing. I didn’t call you here to comfort me! You came yourself, and quite rudely by the way: ‘I’ve been taught to find anyone, anywhere?’ What am I, your next damn criminal to chase?”
The air tensed with edgy emotions and unspoken thoughts. James stood up as well, his tall frame imposing on the small space I had centered around myself as my defense. “Look, you were the one who didn’t answer my letters. I went off to Auror training just a few days after graduation, remember? When I left, you were happy and smiling at your parents’ house!” He started pacing, striking my memory with his usual sign of racing internal feelings.
“The next thing I know, I’m reading in the Prophet how your parents were killed and your cousin was paralyzed by Death Eaters right in front of your eyes! The papers say it was a gesture of vengeance by Voldemort for Dumbledore’s interference in stopping Voldemort’s goblin alliance, but I didn’t care. All I thought about was you. I spend night and day writing letters to you since I couldn’t leave training.” He whirled around to face me, his face reddened and etched with crumpling pain. “But I never heard from you again.”
I stood frozen in my place, masking any reaction to James’s hurt. I’ve grown quite an expert at hiding what I feel from others since I can’t stand their looks of pity. Besides, I didn’t think I had any more tears left for anyone. But I couldn’t ignore my heart breaking as I realized the hurt, instead of the relief, that I had extended by breaking away to someone so dear to me. I felt like I was losing him all over again, like I had lost the everything he had promised to me all over again.
Apparently James noticed my faltering, for he draws closer, shortening the distance between us inch by inch. “Tell me why, Lily. Why did you push me away? All I wanted…” his voice breaks, and he looks down as he steps even closer, “All I wanted was to be with you, to go through what you went through, to take care of you.”
“Someone to take care of me,” I repeat that to myself, trying to understand that idea. “That’s new, I have to admit.”
“Tell me.”
He looks up at me then, his eyes commanding. You owe this much, he says to me through his steady gaze. The intensity between us deepened as I sighed. My breath was inhaled by him, taking my heart with it.
“I…” Licking my lips, I avoided his eyes, which were starting to make me feel as though he could see me completely naked in my heightening anxiety as I recounted the reasons he wanted.
“I pushed you “ you, Alice, Riona, even Remus, Sirius and Peter “ I pushed you all away because I couldn’t have you anywhere near me. Not because I didn’t want you to, but because I didn’t want to see all of you die in front of my eyes just like Mum, Dad and Gwen. The Death Eaters…” My hand involuntarily flew to my forehead to contain the raw memory from spilling out of my mind for James to examine and analyze.
James gently pulled my hand down, taking it in his. His strength vibrated through me in that touch. “The Death Eaters?”
I forced my eyes to meet his probing ones, slowly. “The Death Eaters made that clear.”
Gwen lay on our living room wooden floor, gasping on four violently trembling legs. The same pine floor that was scratched from our playing tag and hide-and-seek so often, the same floor that had been covered with the mismatched cloth we used to make our quilt…the same floor was flooded with her last drippings of blood.
The bodies of Daphne and Carson Evans were lying next to my cousin, their faces devoid of any trace of life. They looked like two wax dolls - except that the severe gashes, bleeding wounds, and chopped body parts spoke of the torture that had finally rendered them dead.
I couldn’t stop staring at them from my place by the front door, my wrists and ankles bleeding from my repetitive efforts to undo the tight ropes holding me together. Mesmerized and at the same time terrified by the scent of death sifting into my mind and heart, I was numbed of any feeling or thought. All I could think of was that this was all a nightmare, a vision, a dream “ anything but real. This couldn’t be real…this wasn’t happening to me.
Gwen drew her eyes to meet mine, the deep slash on her cheek revealing the muscles underneath her ripped skin. All she could manage through her choking on her own blood was, “Lily…”
Steps resounded in my ear, to my left, dragging me into the brutal reality before me. “Ah, Lily…your cousin seems to be dying…she is in her last moments…shall I put her out of her misery?”
“No,” said another Death Eater, her voice cruelly amused at the sight. “The Muggle doesn’t deserve mercy.”
“Well,” said the first Death Eater, crouching down to meet my eyes with his ruthless blue ones that scowled at me from beneath his protective mask “ the eyes of Rodolphous Lestrange, the ones that had always sneered at me in school. “Do you understand why we did this, Ms. Lily?”
“Because Dumbledore interfered in Voldemort’s plans,” I choked, feeling like I was about to retch. My throat was soar from so much wretched screaming, and I felt the bile rise sourly, stinging.
The female Death Eater, whom I couldn’t recognize, hissed at the mention of her dark lord’s name, but Rodolphous held up a commanding hand.
“That’s right,” said Rodolphous in a conversational tone. “Your shit of a leader of that bloody resistance called the Order of the Phoenix is our true target. Your family only stood in our way…but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He drew closer, caressing my hair. I didn’t even fight to resist him, barely having the energy to breathe as Gwen was slowly dying before me.
Stooping to the level of my ear, Rodolphous whispered, “Our master also knew that you were part of Dumbledore’s resistance. He wanted to teach you a little lesson, too, in case you ever decide to take up the heroic trip again.” He shoved my head away from him, chuckling. “Never mess with the Dark Lord.”
“Or next time,” the female Death Eater threatened, flipping her white blonde hair over her shoulder, “It’s your ickle friends.”
The Death Eaters laughed, sounding like nails scratching over a blackboard. And then they disappeared.
Gwen panted heavily, trying to crawl towards me, but her legs fell from under her. She stretched out one beaten hand to me before she collapsed on the floor, unconscious.
And I was left inside my family’s grave.
IV
James didn’t say anything once I finished. I was thoroughly spent from recalling the past into my bright living room. Somehow the words of my past twisted the relative peace inside my flat, dulling its light, breaking its separation from the outside world.
“Have you…told this to anyone else?” James finally said, breaking the suspended air between us. But he still wouldn’t look at me, and I began to worry if he thought, just like I had for countless insomniac nights, that I was guilty of what happened to my family.
“No,” I murmured, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. My eyes trailed to the floor, and I stretched my right foot to run over the fluffy navy carpet. “You’re the only one who’s asked me what really happened. Everyone else tries to make me feel better by avoiding the subject.”
“I’m surprised you actually gave me an answer,” James admitted, letting his head sink into his upraised palms.
I shrugged, picking off a thread from my peasant blouse. “You could always make me talk.”
At length he raised his eyes to mine, my room’s lamp causing his glasses to glare and shield his eyes from my scrutiny. I was dying to know what he thought of all this, what he thought I should do…what he thought of me. He had been such an important part of the fantasy world I had lived in before this all happened. If he understood me, really understood me…then maybe he can remind me of who I was in that world so that I could return to it and forget all this ever happened. Isn’t that what I wanted?
I don’t know anymore.
“Lily,” he whispered, bringing all the old feelings back. And then he took my hand in his. At once he held me captive me all over again, and I didn’t bother to look for a way out. And then all the old feelings came back, for with James sinking feels like floating, falling is flying, and dying means utter bliss.
But these feelings were heightened in their intensity, because I saw something new in the gaze James held me in. Not a lifesaver, not a knight in shining armor, not a hero. Nor did I see the giggling girl I had been two years ago, free of any worry or loss. I saw something else, something that greeted me with such warmth and strength that I felt like I was momentarily pulled out of the darkness that had engulfed me so long.
Before I could understand what it was that I saw in him, James pushed his glasses on top of his head, stood and leaned toward me, his whole body crouched over my slightly trembling frame. Yet when he touched my cheek with his thumb, tenderly and pleadingly, all he said was, “I…”
And then he kissed me, his firm lips greeting mine like long-lost lovers with the desperation of unbroken passion.
Remember me? His lips asked mine.
How could I not? Mine answered tentatively, yielding to him.
I want to kiss everything that’s made you so frozen to emotion, they tell my lips as they wedge mine open and our tongues discover each other once again.
“I don’t mind,” I murmur as we pull apart to breathe, our chests heaving from barely restrained sensations.
Still bending over me, his arms on either side, James looked at me with clouded eyes and a small smile. “I didn’t mind that either. I…I didn’t know how to tell you how-how horribly sorry I am for everything that’s happened, how I wasn’t there for you like I was supposed to be “”
“Don’t talk,” I whisper, placing my ring finger to his now reddened lips. I trace them like I used to, remembering each line and curve while meeting James’s eyes, which grew darker with each passing second. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, I pulled him down to me again and drew him into another losing kiss.
Losing any reason or logic…driving away any memory of what’s happened, any excuse of why we shouldn’t be doing this…
I throw these all away as the kiss grows into something further, our bodies melting into each other perfectly, both of us caught up in a whirlwind of escape and discovery, loss and love…