sunrise .

WHAT I OWE:

CURRENT:

☄  lily → alice ( need to start ) .

☄  lily → peter ( started ) .

Lily could remember only the flash. 

Bright green, but not the kind that reminded of fresh grass in the summertime. It was a snake’s color; a poisonous green that she might have put into a fairly lethal sleeping draught. She’d remembered the thud that had followed Voldemort passing her husband in the hall; the sick feeling that had filled her stomach. James, her James, the bravest of them all, had gone first. She missed him already, even though missing wasn’t exactly the emotion was it? There weren’t really any emotions here, but she could still remember his face at least. She could still remember his smile when Harry laughed, or when she grabbed his hand. Funnily enough, she barely remembered the Dark Lord himself. Only the flowing of his robes as he’d raised his arm; only the poison that poured from his wand. 

It hadn’t hurt, not really. She’d always wondered what it was like for Marlene; if it had been quick, or not. If someone had been there with her. Marlene was the first person she, truly, could remember dying in this war that had left a large hole. Lily felt all of the deaths, of course; all of their losses. But she’d been lucky. Losing Mar felt like losing a limb; a part of her soul. Even then, maybe, she’d known the end was coming. They’d heard of what had happened to her through Sirius, and Lily couldn’t even remember her grief now; couldn’t even remember the pain of that, let alone the pain of the flash. She wished Marlene had had the same fate, though, that it had been as painless as the flash. 

She supposed it was like drinking sleeping draught, death. Lily quickly learned there were still dreams, although emotions were rather dulled. She saw Harry sometimes, and James. The life they might’ve had. The family they could’ve built. It was only snippets, like a thirty minute sitcom on the telly, but even in death she wished for more. The credits would roll, and she’d be filled with that familiar ache again; the desire for a next episode. Lily didn’t want to tune in next week; she wanted this every day, forever. Even in death she knew those snippets weren’t enough. 

It took her awhile to realize that the feeling, the filling, was actually longing. Her fingertips could reach but not touch; her eyes could scan but not meet. Harry was hers, but he wasn’t, was he? Because there he was with Dumbledore, tucked gently in a basket. And there he was again with Petunia, and who Lily could only assume was her nephew, Dudley, being forced back into a small cupboard space. And there he was again, alone at school, after having been chased by Dudley to a hiding spot. And again. And again. If this space would have allowed for it, Lily would have been angry. She felt the ghost of it, burning in her veins even now. But, she wasn’t allowed to feel that emotion. Not here. Not even dulled. Still, there was something strange in whatever this space was; an uneasiness, as she watched her sister treat her and James’s boy, her life, with such disdain. If she had been alive, she might have understood then what Petunia had truly thought of her. 

She, of course, wasn’t alive. 

It wasn’t until she saw him once more with actual friends -- with Hagrid in Diagon Alley, with a red-haired boy and a girl with her nose tucked in a book -- that she felt the uneasiness settle. They looked at him with the sun in their eyes, or at the very least with a sparkle. The red-haired boy reminded her of Sirius, in a way, although he seemed to lack his charm. And the girl? Well, that was Remus, wasn’t it? There was something special in the way the people around him cared. Harry had found his own friends; his own set of Marauders. This Harry wasn’t hers, but he was at least loved. 

She didn’t know what strange show she was watching, only that she was, eternally, watching this one channel. Her mum had always stopped her and Tuney from watching too much telly at once ( it was bad for their development, she would say, but really she just wanted to watch Doctor Who and the girls didn’t like that show much ). For a second, Lily wondered if somehow her mind was just twisting that Doctor’s crazy travels and giving them to her son. A dream, that was all. Death was a dream, and she was unable to escape it.

That was, of course, for two brief moments.

The first, she felt the crackling heat of a spell. Actually felt it, warm against her cheek as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the graveyard around them. For a second, she didn’t know what was going on, nor what she was saying, because she was staring at the face of her boy; really looking at him, wild-eyed with fear and a look of longing in his eyes. The very look that she had been wanting to feel, but that was always out of reach. The very emotion that filled her now as she wished to reach out to him. It anchored here, despite it all. “Hold on for your father,” she had managed out, knowing that James wouldn’t be far behind. She could feel him, could feel his longing too. Soon, James was there, holding her hand. He’d had appeared that way, she assumed, because Lily couldn’t remember not holding his hand. Lily was overcome with how strange this moment felt; how strange it was for their family to be back together once again.

And there he was, her boy, looking at them as if he were seeing ghosts. 

He was, of course, but Lily didn’t know that. Not now, when her emotions were more present, and there were tears streaming down her face. She tried to reach out, but what is a nightmare if not preventing you from doing the thing you want to do most? Her arm wouldn’t move, and so instead she held onto James’s hand tightly, hoping beyond hope that the fear in her bones would go away. It didn’t, though, when her head turned and she was staring at none other than Lord Voldemort himself. The flash. The fear from the night she’d lost Harry. But, it was quickly replaced by something else. Anger. Anger that Voldemort had taken away everything from her; that he stood here now, trying to do it again. They’d fought him off again that night, but when her eyes closed and her breathing stopped, the numbness settled back in like a cloud. It was just another day on her channel, and she’d gotten a bit of a role, this time, but that was all. Credits were rolling and Lily couldn’t help but feel as though this were her punishment for something in life; stuck here in this place between longing and sleep. 

Until the second time. This time, Lily knew she wasn’t alive again, but it was the first time she’d truly stepped into the world once more. It was the first time her feet had found solid ground; some kind of purchase. Her eyes flickered open, and the first face she saw was James’s staring back at her with a small smile on his lips. And then there was Remus and Sirius, looking older but younger still. Her mind was flooded with memories, of all that had come before. Of her son and Severus; of Severus’s memories. Of how he and Sirius and Remus had looked after her son, despite it all. And then, there was what she was here to do. A small gasp had left her, and she met James’s eyes with a quiet understanding. They were here to see their son, to bring him back with them. And then? Lily wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she wished this moment weren’t happening. Harry deserved more than a life stuck on one channel. Lily had reached for James, then, desperate to touch him, to have him by her side again. But, as quickly as they had landed, they were ushered forward.

Her legs weren’t working properly, that was the first sign that this world wasn’t the same as the one she’d remembered. Still, as the fog parted and her walking slowed, she saw him. Harry, standing almost rigidly still with a grim look on her face. For a moment, she feared that they’d missed him; that he’d already passed and this was the moment they had to help him cross. But, no, he was still breathing. That chest still moving. Lily was struck by how grown up he looked.  When had he gotten so very old? Lily wondered if his eighteen birthday had passed yet; or if he was still a child, if he still would want to see her. Of course, he didn’t see her first, but her eyes were locked onto him, taking in the build of his shoulders; the way his lips curved into a saddened smile. He looked so much like James, but when he turned and met her eyes, Lily had to work to choke out coherent words.

He had her eyes. 

As he spoke, Lily got as close as she dared, and when he turned to ask her if she would be by his side, Lily did not hesitate. She would be there, with him, to the very end. It infuriated her that her son had to go down this path; infuriated her that it was up to him and him alone. Right now, though, it was not the time to think of that. Right now, her son needed her, and she had spent close to twenty years waiting for this moment. One chance to prove to him that she could be a good mother; that she could be the person he deserved; the one place where he could always land.

The invisibility cloak was just as she remembered; a bit tattered on the bottom from all the times one of the boys had stepped on it. Lily wondered, quietly, what sorts of trouble Harry had gotten up to with this cloak; what he would’ve told James, and kept from her. It almost made her laugh, the thought of something so normal. Mostly, though, she ached for that life. Ached for a chance at hearing his stories, and not stories about Voldemort, or Dumbledore, or the world that was placed on his shoulders. They snuck into the Death Eaters court, Voldemort mad with Harry’s refusal to show. It struck Lily how different he looked. Despite the fact that his eyes were alight with hate, he almost looked human. His eyes had lost that hatred, but instead were riddled with fear. Lily wondered if he had always been this way, or if, in these final moments, all he could see were the flames rippling in the fire; the things he had burned, and the things that had turned to ash. 

Lily didn’t want the moment to end, but as she looked at Harry, she knew what he was about to do. With one final nod of her head, she watched as the scene shifted, and her heart sank to her chest, as Voldemort shouted her son’s name. Lily closed her eyes, not wanting to see the rest. She knew what would happen; knew the life the Dark Lord would rip from her son. And for what? What had he gained through all of this? What had she? The world had still ended up miserable and broken; Voldemort seemed as though he were going to rule, and all that stood in his way was a seventeen year old boy. A hot anger flushed through her then, at the world, at Dumbledore for letting Harry take these reins, at Severus for not realizing he’d picked the wrong side sooner, at Petunia for letting Harry go at it alone for ten years, at herself for not being there to help him through it. The anger was piercing, real, and for a second Lily panicked. What was happening? Had the last dream not ended, really? Although, it was almost a relief, really, to finally feel something again.

Green eyes opened once more, and Lily found herself standing at Harry’s crib. It took her a moment to gather herself, realize that this channel, this was new. It was still a show, but she was in a starring role. Her hand landed on her stomach, as it had so many times when Harry was still in there, and Lily was shocked to feel a kick; shocked to feel the roundness of pregnancy. Her eyes flickered down to her hand, and she couldn’t help but smile softly, remembering these days; remembering a life that seemingly felt like lifetimes ago. A soft knock on the door drew her from her thoughts, and Lily almost choked to see who was standing there. Her real sister; the woman who she would have had as Harry’s godmother if she could go back and do it all again. It was the first time Marlene had shown in one of these episodes, and Lily couldn’t help but wonder what in the world was going on. Now, though, Marlene stood by her side, cupping her best friend’s cheek with a gentleness Lily hadn’t expected from her. 

“Would you like to try again?” she asked.

And then, the channel clicked off completely. 

Lily burst awake, clutching at her chest as if the air had been taken from her. Of course, it had, hadn’t it? And the sensation of that, of dying, hit her all at once. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air, thankful for the wall behind her; thankful for Godric’s Hollow and the house that James’s parents had put so much love into. Her eyes were still closed as she tried to come back to reality, to the fact that she was alive, and all of those emotions, all the words that she had kept bottled up for so long, were now here, full force. The anger. The sadness. The longing. The happiness. The bittersweet envy. The hope. The fear. Godric, she could feel them all, streaming in her now blood-pumping veins as if they had waited twenty years to break free again.

Fingers dug into the carpet as she tried to calm her breathing, to remind her lungs that she was taking in oxygen again. It was almost like teaching them to work again, a lesson she’d never quite learned, or at least had skipped over as a child. Why had she ever taken breathing for granted? In and out. In and out. Lily began counting, trying to calm herself down, and finally she was able to open her eyes. Really, she should’ve done that in the first place, as it was rather effective to stop her breathing.

Harry’s crib was gone. 

Not only that, but the room was in disarray. Boxes were everywhere, stacked one upon each other as if they had just moved in. Lily was on her feet now, scrambling around the room as she looked for Harry; for a trace of him. One by one she ripped open the boxes, but only found cauldrons and potions. Her home office which wasn’t really an office at all, but more like a tiny corner of their flat. Lily’s head was dizzy with confusion, and the last box fell helplessly from her fingers. Was this a trick? Was Voldemort just playing with them now? Illusion magic was difficult, but not impossible. If anyone could do it, unfortunately, it was Lord Voldemort. But why would he try to make them believe that the night had never happened? And if that was the case, hope swelled in her that they had done it. That James’s sacrifice wouldn’t be for nothing.

At the thought of her husband, Lily had to pause, looking around the room helplessly confused. She remembered, clearly, what had happened before Voldemort had come; a sound she would never forget. Lily felt sick to her stomach at the thought; at the idea that she might be here, wherever here was, but that James might not. This was their first home, and for whatever reason she was here again, staring around the small room like a lost animal. Lily couldn’t think about what it might mean doing that alone; building this house from the ground up without James here to help her. Figuring out where to put the dishes, and laughing when he accidentally broke one or two. Still, if she were here, there had to be hope, didn’t there? Maybe everything was a dream, maybe, just maybe--

A thud caused her to swing around to the half-opened door. Lily tip-toed into the hallway, fingertips brushing at spots on the wall where pictures should have been hung; where a world once was showcased. As she made her way slowly down the tiny hallway Lily saw one photo, still hung at the very bottom of the stairs. It was from their wedding, so James and Lily were in the middle, but they weren’t the focus. Their friends surrounded them; Marlene and Sirius, Remus and Peter. Even Petunia, miserable as she was to be there, was smiling. They had, accidentally, knocked it off the wall when they had just moved in to Potter manor, but now it hung in its original frame. Lily touched the glass gently, brow furrowing together as she allowed herself to be lost to her thoughts.

“Lils?”