Strength // Amelia & Lily // Thursday 8, 1979
Date: Thursday 8, 1979 Time: 8:03 p.m. Location: Amelia's place
Lily had nearly called it off. A mere four days after burying her parents, she didn't feel like meeting a friend, not even to speak of revenge and mourn the dead. It felt... disrespectful, somehow, as if she were going partying when she should be mourning, though she knew very well that neither Amelia nor her would feel like partying. It was only because she'd promised that she apparated over at 8 o'clock on Thursday night, carrying a bottle of firewhiskey in her hand.
Well, because she had promised and because James needed a break from hovering over her. He looked nearly as drained as she felt, and she remembered how it had been when he lost his parents. She had supported him, of course she had, and she had done it gladly, but there had been moments when she was so mentally exhausted from being strong for him that she just wanted to curl up in a corner and cry, but she couldn't... She had to be strong for him. James needed an evening off.
So here she was, knocking on Amelia's door. This was a very different Lily Evans from the one known from the Order meetings, the vivacious young woman looked pale and frail, with deep shadows under her eyes, her hair unkempt, clothes a rumpled mess. She'd held herself together long enough to get the funeral over with, but then her reserves of strength had been exhausted.
Amelia, she knew, would understand, and so she hadn't even bothered to try and repair the façade of being okay. Her friend knew better anyway, and tonight was about not having to pretend.
"Hey," she said when Amelia opened the door, and flashed her a wan smile. She held up the bottle. "I brought a little something to keep us company... but I brought chocolate, too."