#hpshipsnet

It was an average Friday night for the eighth years at Hogwarts. They always snuck into the Room of Requirement to play some drinking games and unwind from the week they had just endured. Tomorrow was the next big Quidditch match, and Ron knew he had to prove himself, or he had the potential of getting kicked off the team by Headmistress McGonagall.

It was still odd for Ron to realize who his new friends were. It had to do with Hermione and Harry's new love interests, sure, but if you had asked him two years ago if he would be playing a drinking game with Draco Malfoy, he would have called you crazy. 

The Room of Requirement had shifted to their liking. They were surrounded by couches and a makeshift bar that was over-flowing with firewhiskey. Ron was the one to take the first shot.

Very over the edge and very tipsy, he unleashed his soul.

"I just-I just don't understand why I am sucking so bad this year. Did the war take away all my skill? I just don't want McGonagall to kick me off the team."

"Ron, she wouldn't do that," Ginny reassured him, "It would be up to Harry who is team captain, and he wouldn't kick you off the team. Right Harry?"

Harry was laughing about something Pansy had said, but he turned his head at the sound of his name and nodded. Ron knew the only reason he wouldn't kick him off the team though was because of  personal loyalty and Harry not taking Quidditch quite as seriously now after the war.

Ron groaned and leaned back against the front of the couch, and Daphne handed him another shot. Theo laced his fingers through her's as she sat back down next to him.

"We can't be good at everything, Ron," Daphne teased, "And besides, Quidditch is just a stupid game. It's not worth freaking out over."

Ron could feel Ginny's glare from across the room, but Luna gently placed her hand on top of her girlfriend's to stop her from getting too passionate about the topic and starting an argument.

"Quidditch is not stupid," Draco spoke up, "Just because you can barely balance on a broomstick, Greengrass, it doesn't mean the game is of no importance."

Hermione tried not to smile at Draco's words, and she leaned against his shoulder as he put his arm around her.

Daphne rolled her eyes, and she took a pillow from the couch and threw it at Draco's head. Harry and Pansy excused themselves from the chaos to make out, Ron assumed, and the rest of the group screamed with laughter as pillows hit them square in the face. 

Ron was not enjoying the chaos though, and it appeared that Blaise wasn't either. He just sat back in his chair and watched the group with boredom. Blaise rarely said anything during their get togethers, and Ron was sure of the fact that he only came cause Pansy and Theo begged him to. 

So when Blaise finally spoke up to stop the chaos of the pillow fight, Ron was very shocked and his ears perked up as he poured himself another drink.

"I think we should do something other than juvenile pillow fights. Maybe another juvenile Muggle game, perhaps?"

Theo snorted, and Draco commented, "So you want to trade one juvenile game for another?"

"Precisely," Blaise smiled, "I'm sure your girlfriend can come up with a Muggle game we can play."

Hermione pursed her lips as she studied the room. Ron could tell she was tipsy from her drink she had just finished, so this would be interesting.

"Why not truth or dare?" 

Ginny laughed and Theo rolled his eyes, but Daphne leaned forward in her seat and was intrigued.

"I think that's a great idea," she told Hermione, "What do the rest of you think? And if you don't do your dare or tell the truth, you have to take a shot!"

"Then I'm just going to continue taking shots," Harry said as he approached the group again with Pansy's hand in his, "What do you say, Pans?"

She smiled mischeviously, "Yeah, I could go for a game that will make me ridiculously drunk. This week was killer."

They sat down next to Draco and Hermione. Blaise got up from his seat to get some bottles of firewhiskey and placed it in the center of the group. Ron watched as Luna eyed the firewhiskey and wondered what she was thinking about. 

"Who is going to go first?" Theo asked the group.

Without hesitation, Luna spoke up, "I would like to ask the first question, if that's okay."

Theo gestured his hands out in front of him, "By all means, Lovegood, take the floor."

She smiled at him and Ron was happy to see that Luna now had so many friends. Her and Theo had taken a particular liking to each other; Ron assumed it was because they could bond over their unique intellectual pursuits.

"Blaise," she asked, "Truth or dare?"

Blaise smiled at Luna and took another swig of his drink before answering, "Truth."

"Do you actually want to be all our friends or does Pansy just drag you here every Friday night?"

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and you could leave it to Luna to ask a serious question. As Daphne and Theo glanced down at the floor awkwardly, Luna kept her gaze on Blaise. She was intent on having an answer. 

Ron watched as Blaise's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and for once, Ron could see he was answering honestly, "I do want to be your friends, I just don't always know what to say."

No one pressed him for more, and even though Blaise answered honestly, he took a shot. Luna looked pleased with his answer and leaned back into Ginny's arm.

The next rounds of the game went by quickly. Harry was dared to make-out with Pansy in front of the group, Daphne and Ginny had to do a strip-tease.. which made Ron close his eyes tightly to avoid seeing his sister, and Hermione was dared to take three shots in a row. You could say the party was hyped up. 

But Ron still wasn't feeling it. He was feeling miserable, in truth. He just could not stop thinking about his recent Quidditch failures and was always feeling particularly single in this moment. He was happy for Hermione that she was now with Draco, but he couldn't help but feel lonely.

It was only when Pansy leaned forward in her seat and called out to Blaise again that Ron took interest. His ears perked up at the sound of his name; he wasn't even sure why.

"Blaise, truth or dare?" Pansy slurred. She was very drunk, and Harry's cheeks were flushed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders once again.

Blaise rolled his eyes but played along, "Haven't I already been asked? There are other people, such as Ron and Luna, who haven't been asked a single question."

But Pansy ignored him and pressed, "Truth or dare?"

He smirked at her, "Fine then. Dare."

Pansy glanced at Harry who also had a mischevious twinkle in his eye. For some reason, this made Ron nervous. What were the two of them up to? They had a secret language no one else in the room seemed to ever understand.

"I dare you to kiss Ron."

Ron felt heat flush to his cheeks, and he glanced over to see Ginny avoiding eye contact with him and Hermione kissing Draco's cheek, clearly not paying attention to anything that was being said.

"Wha-what?" Ron croaked out, "I'm-I'm a bloke, he won't do that. He is not into that-"

Theo rolled his eyes, "We don't live in the fifties anymore, Ron. It isn't weird for blokes to kiss other blokes."

"I-I know that," Ron replied, "But Blaise-he-he wouldn't want to do that."

He looked over to Blaise to gauge his reaction. He had expected him to look disgusted, but instead, he had a smirk on his face.

"Do you not think you can handle my charm, Weasley?" He asked him in a flirtatious tone. Stunned, Ron didn't know what to say.

So as Blaise got out of his seat and sauntered over to the other side of the room to sit in front of Ron on the floor, Daphne and Ginny hooted and hollared with encouragement.

"Now this is about to get good," Ron heard Draco whisper into Hermione's ear. She giggled in response.

Ron looked up to see Pansy watching them intently and Harry having a slight smile on his face. 

Ron's vision was already fuzzy from the firewhiskey, but now, he truly felt like the world was spinning. He expected to be opposed to Blaise kissing him, but now he was just excited. He had not expected that, and his heart was thudding loudly in his chest. He was convinced the whole group could hear it.

"Are you ready, Weasley?" Blaise asked confidently.

Ron surprised himself when he nodded, and Daphne squealed behind him.

Blaise leaned forward then and pressed his lips to Ron's. Fireworks ignited inside of him, and Ron felt his mouth open and Blaise's tongue slip inside. Draco was whistling behind them, and everyone clapped as Blaise pulled away. Ron was out of breath, but Blaise looked pleased with himself.

"Now that can be a good luck charm for the Quidditch match tomorrow," Pansy told Ron. So that is what she had planned.

"It should work too," Daphne told him, "When Blaise and I dated in fifth year, I passed my OWLs I was expecting to fail because he kissed me right before."

Ron rolled his eyes, but the rest of the group laughed. All Ron could feel for the rest of the night was Blaise's eyes on him, and Ron secretly hoped he wouldn't look away.

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To Ron's surprise, Gryffindor won their match against Hufflepuff the next day. It was the first match they had won the whole year. Harry came and slapped him on the back at the end of the match in congratulations.

"You did it, Ron! It looks like Blaise's kiss worked," Harry teased.

Ron rolled his eyes, "It is just a coincidence." But he could feel his neck heat up as he thought about the night before.

"Pansy does say Blaise has a certain charm," Harry said as he eyed Ron. It was like Harry could read his mind. He knew Ron liked the kiss, but Ron didn't give into him with more comments.

"Whatever, Harry. I'll see you later tonight. Go find Pans like I know you want to."

Harry grinned at his best friend and turned around to the stands to see Pansy waiting for him. She kissed him hard when he approached. 

Ron was happy for his best friend. He was happy for all his friends and their newfound happiness after the war. He was just hoping now that he won this match, his own happiness would improve, too.

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Ron was determined for the next week to stay away from Blaise to prove that he could win the next match against Ravenclaw without his kiss.

It was hard though, because all Ron wanted to do was be around Blaise, even if it meant they didn't talk. He wanted to casually run into him as Harry was with Pansy and Draco was with Hermione, but it seemed that Blaise kept his distance. He wondered if he regretted what he had done the week before.

So like the coward Ron recently felt like he was, he declined joining the group in the Room of Requirement that Friday night before the match against Ravenclaw. He told himself it was to prove a point, but really, he wasn't sure how he could control himself around Blaise. 

He had only viewed Blaise as a poser before, but now, he could see there was so much more. 

And much to Ron's disappointment but also his relief, he had lost the game against Ravenclaw the next day. It did seem like Blaise's kiss was the kiss of luck. He was determined to have it again.

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The next match was against Slytherin. There was a lot of playful bickering and trash talking between the friends as they prepared to go up against each other. Blaise was around that week with his eyes on Ron, but he didn't say anything to him. It was like he was waiting for Ron to approach him.

Ron couldn't take it anymore that Friday night. As they all left the Room of Requirement to walk back to their common rooms, Ron pulled Blaise aside and around a corner so the others could not see them. 

Blaise smirked at Ron as they met eyes and Ron had pushed him against the castle walls.

"Look," Ron started, "I know that we are playing against each other tomorrow and you are going to want to score me out as chaser for the team, but I need some luck."

"Is it luck you need or just my lips in general?" Blaise asked. Ron could tell he was serious, and he watched as Blaise's long lashes blinked waiting for his response.

Ron swallowed the remaining saliva in his throat and answered honestly, "I think it's a bit of both."

Blaise smiled as he leaned forward and forcefully pressed his lips against Ron's. Ron opened his mouth to invite Blaise in, and all he could taste was firewhiskey. They kissed against that castle wall for an hour, until they finally heard Filch coming down the hall looking for anyone out of their common rooms past curfew.

As they pulled apart, Blaise whispered, "Good luck tomorrow."

Then he winked and ran off toward the dungeons. Ron grinned to himself as he escaped Filch's upcoming wrath.

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Gryffindor did win against Slytherin the next day, and Ron knew it was from Blaise's kiss of luck.

But Blaise didn't seem to care that Slytherin had lost as he approached Ron after the game. Ron was surprised to see that he even looked a little nervous.

"So Weasley," Blaise started, "I was thinking..."

"I would love to go out with you sometime," Ron finished for him confidently.

Blaise jokingly rolled his eyes, "You had no idea what I was going to say."

But Harry was dead; she knew that for sure. The war was over as quickly as it had begun. They had lost, and Hermione's last breath was starting to escape from her body. She glanced up one last time to glare into Bellatrix's eyes, and she grasped the time-turner around her neck in her hand with all the strength she could muster. The determination flowing through her veins made her realize why she had kept her time-turner a secret; it was for this moment, it was for the end.

"You have lost, Mudblood!" Bellatrix screamed for all to hear, "The Dark Lord has won! Meet your best friend's fate!"

It was nonsensical, but Hermione smiled as her eyes shut for good. All she saw behind her lids was hazel eyes she had never seen before; she only knew they made her feel safe. Maybe she smiled from exasperation, maybe it was from exhaustion, but it didn't matter as Bellatrix's curse hit her square in the chest.

It was over.

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Hermione was surprised when she opened her eyes again and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting next to her. His face was calm, like he was completely unaware of all that had just happened. It all came rushing back to Hermione as she tried to stand up, but Dumbledore led her body back to the ground next to his.

"Harry-he-he's-"

"I know," Dumbledore reassured her, "Harry Potter is dead, as are you. The horcrux in him no longer lives on, but what if I told you we could change it all?"

"I don't understand, how-"

"Voldemort's power was too strong, Ms. Granger. I was afraid this would happen and we would have to take this route. This means that we must take fate into our own hands. I see you are still wearing the time-turner I gifted you as my last dying wish."

Hermione nodded. It had been her only secret; Hermione received a note days after his passing with the time-turner wrapped around it. All the note said was to use it well, much like Harry's invisibility cloak all those years before. She knew it had to be from Dumbledore, but she had not used it. She had learned so many years before not to meddle with time, and it felt wrong to mention the gift to anyone, even to Harry.

"Professor, you told me so many years before we should never meddle with time-"

"-unless absolutely necessary," he finished for her, "And this is absolutely necessary, for the fate of the wizarding world now rests solely in your hands."

Hermione looked down to see that even in death, she was still grasping onto the time-turner around her neck. She finally released it and saw that it left an indentation in her hand; it was now a part of her as much as this war.

"But if I go back then-"

"You will save many lives, but your life will not be what it was before, if it even exists at all. That must be a risk you are willing to take."

"Why me?" She asked him, "Why am I the one to decide this?"

"Because you, Ms. Granger, will always make the right choice, no matter what it means for your own fate."

Hermione wanted to ask more questions, but he stood up to leave. As he took his final steps, he looked back at her and said, "Five turns should do it. The wizarding world thanks you for your sacrifice, Ms. Granger. Just remember, I will always remember you, and I'm sure others will too, just not those you would expect." 

Hermione parted her lips to respond, but Professor Dumbledore was already gone.

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Five turns should do it, he told her. The afterlife around her started to disappear, rushing her to her decision. The walls were crumbling and her vision was fading. Professor Dumbledore was right about her, of course, she would always do what was right. She closed her eyes as she felt herself turn the time-turner. On the fifth turn, she felt the wind knocked out of her and everything went white.

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Hermione's head was pounding, and she tried to sit up before opening her eyes. Two gentle hands pushed her back and a familiar voice said, "Not yes, Ms. Granger, you must rest. You had quite the fall in the Great Hall."

Madam Pomfrey, Hermione thought, maybe it had all just been a dream.

But when she opened her eyes, the furnishings were different than she had remembered in the hospital wing. They were older, and much, much brighter. It reminded her of the photographs in her mother's old childhood home. Confused, Hermione squinted her eyes, this caused Madam Pomfrey to lean forward and put her palm on her forehead.

"You are no longer burning up, that is reassuring," she told her, "Professor Dumbledore told me that he had seen your condition before and not to fret, but he would not give me details. That man, it was rather maddening-"

"Sorry to interrupt, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, "But-wha-what happened?"

"Oh deary, you had quite the spell in the Great Hall this morning, I'm afraid. It must be a mix of nerves and this.. condition Dumbledore will not tell me about.. but the first steps you took into the Great Hall after your transfer from Beauxbatons made you fall and hit your head. Luckily, James Potter was there to bring you to me. The scar on your chest, it is unlike anything I have ever seen. But Professor Dumbledore reassured me that it was actually a birthmark, so I apologize for being insensitive-"

Madam Pomfrey was rambling, and that's when Hermione saw how much younger she was. There was not a wrinkle on her face, and her eyes were brighter with youth. 

The time turner had worked, she had gone back into time, and Harry's father had helped her.

"May I-May I have a moment, Madam Pomfrey?" 

"Oh dear! Of course, I'm so sorry to bombard you just as you have gotten up, I have no idea what has gotten into me. I will be in my office if you need me. Please just give me a shout and do not even attempt to over-exert yourself!"

She nodded as Madam Pomfrey gently patted the top of her head and walked away to leave her alone.

Hermione realized she was the only student occupying the hospital wing, and she took that as her opportunity to collect her thoughts and explore her new surroundings.

A mirror was on her bedside table, so she picked it up to examine herself. The cuts on her face from the battle were now gone without a trace, but it was then she remembered Madam Pomfrey's mention of a scar on her chest. That was new, for Hermione had never had a scar or birthmark of any kind.

As she let the mirror's gaze trail down from her face to her neck, she started to notice discoloration.

It was bright red in color and looked inflamed, though it was not hot to the touch. As she touched it, she realized it was the shape of a lightning bolt, much like Harry's old scar on his forehead. This was different though, and she realized it was the mark of her death. Bellatrix had not created a horcrux, or otherwise she would be alive in her own time, but this must be the official mark of the Avada Kedavra curse. The thought made her shudder, and she abruptly put the mirror down on her lap. It was all too much to process. She closed her eyes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice. Something about it was familiar, but overall, it was one she had never heard before.

"How are you holding up?"

It was a boy's voice, and she turned her head to see who he was. Hermione saw the resemblance immediately; it was Harry's father, James. The only difference between them was their eyes. James's eyes were hazel, unlike Harry's. They were also larger and brighter, and they were easier to see behind his glasses frames. They were also the eyes that Hermione had seen as she took her last breath.

Flustered, Hermione flattened her hair. It was something she always did when she was overwhelmed or nervous.

"I-I'm fine. Thank you for helping me?" She said it more like a question, though she knew it was the truth. She had heard about James Potter's reputation from Harry. The cocky type with a heart of gold. 

James smiled; it was natural for him to smile, she realized. It was not like Harry's. Harry had to work to smile, for he always had serious creases lined on his cheeks. It had to be from his trauma, she thought, and that thought made her want to cry. Her best friend was dead.

James must have seen the tears forming in her eyes, and his brow wrinkled in concern.

"I can imagine transferring from another school during your sixth year at Hogwarts can be overwhelming," he sympathized, "I can leave you alone if you would like-"

"No," Hermione interrupted him with force, "I-I would actually like to hear more about what happened to me. I am afraid I have no memory of it."

James sat down in the chair next to her bed in the hospital wing. Hermione glanced to her right to see Madam Pomfrey peering out at them from her office attempting to know everything while giving them privacy.

"You were walking into the Great Hall with your trunk; you had just arrived from Beauxbatons to start your first day here at Hogwarts. As soon as you stepped inside and looked over at me, you fainted and hit your head. It was quite the entrance."

He was teasing her, she realized, and she rolled her eyes, "Please don't flatter yourself." But her voice shook, she blamed it on her recent losses and her new reality, but she knew it was because of James Potter. His charm was unlike anything she had ever seen. She understood immediately why Lily Evans fell in love with him. 

James now rubbed the back of his neck nervously; a habit Harry had seemed to get from his father. The resemblance in that moment made her freeze, but she didn't have time to think about it as James started to speak again.

"I-I felt like I did something. I feel responsible. I'm just happy to know you're okay-"

I'm not okay, Hermione thought, but she didn't say anything, she just nodded, "Thank you for helping me."

James looked into her eyes then and Hermione couldn't look away, not until she was forced to as he stood up. She felt her cheeks flush and looked back down at the mirror in her lap.

"Dumbledore wanted me to tell you all your things have been moved into the Ravenclaw Common Room, since you were sorted before you arrived, he said, and he would like to see you when you are feeling up to it." 

Ravenclaw, interesting choice, Hermione thought, though she wasn't all too surprised. Dumbledore had been expecting her; he had always known this was her fate. She felt bile rise up her throat as she thought about what their next conversation would be. 

Her lack of response made James continue to walk away, but he glanced back at her once last time and said, "I'll see you around, Hermione Granger." 

All she could do was simply watch him go. 

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Hours later, she was officially released by Madam Pomfrey to meet with Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey was fretting, as usual, some things never changed, but Hermione convinced her she could handle the trip to his office.

Hermione uttered the password given to her by Madam Pomfrey to enter Dumbledore's office, and as she climbed the steps, she wondered if she made a mistake coming back in time.

How could her presence here at Hogwarts with Harry's father make a difference in the wizarding world? Would she ever see her best friend again? What about Ron, the boy she loved? 

It was all too much, but she packed up the courage and let herself into Dumbledore's office. 

He was sitting at his desk; he looked remarkably younger than she had ever known him as. She was wondering if it really was him at first, but then she noticed his eyes. They were all too familiar. 

"Ms. Granger, I see you have made it."

"Yes-" Hermione started, but Dumbledore interrupted her.

"This has always been your destiny, Hermione. Ravenclaw will be a suitable place here for you in this lifetime as you expand your knowledge in order to help James Potter and the rest of the Marauders."

"I-I don't understand.. how?"

"You must gain more knowledge on Tom Riddle's past in this generation and warn James and Lily about it. You must keep tabs on upcoming Death Eaters. You must prepare the Potters for their potential death without giving away any information of your old life in order to save Harry. You must make it so the Potters never die. You will find unexpected allies in Ravenclaw to help you on your journey." 

"But the Potters are Gryffindors... and I-I thought magic couldn't prevent death.." 

He ignored the first part of her statement, "You won't be preventing death with magic, technically," he explained, "You will just be changing the course of events with knowledge and persuasion. You used magic to get here and you will use magic to leave, that is all."

"And where will I go after? This will change the entire course of Harry's life, along with the wizarding world. What does that mean for mine?"

She considered not answering her sister's call. Fuck Petunia, she thought. Ignoring her for four years meant she did not deserve the light of day. However, she secretly missed her sister too much to not let her phone call intrigue her. She decided to answer. 

“Hello?” 

All she could hear was Petunia’s breathing at first; she could hear Petunia's breath hitch right after she spoke her first word. It was like she was shocked to hear Lily’s voice at all.

“Lily,” Petunia started, no greeting, no nothing. Lily shouldn’t have been surprised, “Aunt Penelope is dead. There was a robbery at her work and she-” 

Lily listened for Petunia’s despair, but there wasn’t any. She just stopped talking. The silence was deafening. Lily realized Petunia was now legally an adult; this meant that it was all her responsibility. 

“I suppose you’re calling to tell me about a funeral then?” Lily questioned. She didn’t want to go, but a part of her was drawn to go. She would secretly do anything to see her sister once more.

“Yes,” Petunia replied, “It’s in a week. I have already made arrangements with Headmistress McGonagall for you.” 

Lily glanced over to Alice sleeping on the bed across from her. She was jealous that she didn’t have to deal with this constant loss that seemed to be Lily’s constant companion. She was never close with her Aunt Penelope; she blamed Petunia for that, too. It was easier to blame Petunia than think about the fact that her Aunt maybe never wanted to give her a chance to be her family, too. 

“I suppose I’ll see you then. You don’t need to pick me up, I’ll take the bus.”

Lily did not hear what Petunia was going to say next, because she hung up the phone to cry, not for the loss of her Aunt, but for the loss of her sister once again. 

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A week had passed and Lily got off the bus down the street from the funeral home. She watched as members of the community filed in for her Aunt’s funeral. She didn’t recognize any of them, she realized. I guess that happened when you never visited home. 

Her black combat boots squeaked across the floor as she entered the building. Older individuals turned to look at her with annoyance, but it didn’t seem to matter when she saw her sister. Petunia’s hair was now past her shoulders; she had always kept it short like Lily’s when she was younger. Lily realized she hadn’t changed much, and she self-consciously tucked a short strand of her red hair behind her ear.

Her sister was beautiful as always; Lily always thought she was the beautiful one. She tried to bury her jealousy down along with her bitterness. It did not work well.

When Petunia caught her eye, she slowly walked towards her. She gave her sister a very awkward hug. Lily did not return it.

“It’s so good to see you,” Petunia told her, “It has been way too long.”

Because of your own choice, Lily thought, but she didn’t say anything. She just crossed her arms and looked anywhere but at her sister so she wouldn’t cry. 

“The ceremony is about to start,” Petunia told her, “I-I would like if you would sit with me.”

Lily wanted to lash out; she wanted to scream no. She wanted to tell her that her and Aunt Penelope were no longer her family, but then she saw that a lot of guests were watching their conversation. Lily already stuck out like a sore thumb as it was, so she swallowed down her anger and just nodded. She pulled her father’s cap out of her book bag for strength. Petunia didn’t comment on it as they sat down.

The ceremony was long, and Petunia gave a very robotic speech. Lily wondered what happened to her sister’s passion. The only thing that was the same about her sister was her blonde hair pulled back into a braid that was now longer and her fiddling with the bottoms of her shirt sleeves like she always had done when she was nervous.

The burial was quiet as well. Petunia did not shed a tear and neither did Lily. Lily wondered when her sister had become so cold; she would think she would cry over her Aunt who had become her constant companion. 

Their Aunt’s friends were the only ones that cried. They came and comforted Petunia as they ignored Lily. It was like she had never existed.

Once Petunia was wrapped up in conversation with one of Aunt Penelope’s old friends, Lily took that as her opportunity to walk away. 

As Lily rounded the corner of the cemetery towards the willow tree where she saw her parents graves, she lit a cigarette that was in her book bag. 

As she took a puff, she was startled when she heard footsteps behind her. It was Petunia. It appeared that all the rest of the funeral guests had left to mourn privately. 

“When did you start smoking?” Petunia asked her. For once, her tone wasn’t filled with judgment, just curiosity.

Lily grunted, “Why does it matter?” If you only saw me, you’d know, Lily thought, but she didn’t say anything.

Petunia didn’t answer her but held her hand out. Lily knew she wanted one too, so she pulled one out of her book bag and handed it to her along with her lighter. She watched as her sister lit the cigarette. She coughed like it was her first time smoking one, and this made Lily smirk. 

They stood there in silence as they looked at their parent’s graves. Neither of them cried; maybe they were both numb to the pain now. Or maybe Petunia was as emotionless as she now appeared. Lily just knew she had cried herself dry throughout all the years of loneliness she endured.

The willow tree covering their parent’s grave was thriving; it made her think of the walks she used to take with Petunia and her mother through the cemetery when their father was at work. It would seem like a morbid way to spend time with your mother to most, but it was some of Lily’s fondest memories of her mum. It was when they let their imaginations run wild as they honored the dead.

“Willows are still my favorite trees,” Petunia told her as she broke the silence, “I wish mum and dad would have named me Willow instead of Petunia. If I had a daughter of my own, I would name her Willow.”

Petunia had never told Lily that before; maybe it was a new development with age. Maybe she came to this spot often while Lily never got the chance.

Lily chanced a glance at her sister; she hoped she would not be looking back at her, but she was. Petunia always had a knack for knowing what Lily was thinking even when she didn’t want her to. It was endearing as a child, but now after years without talking, it was unnerving. 

“I want you to stay at home with me,” Petunia confessed, “If you want to, I mean. I know I haven’t been there, but there is so much you don’t know. If only you will let me explain-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Lily silenced her, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Petunia insisted.

Lily took a deep breath as she put her cigarette out. She put it in a plastic bag in her book bag in order to preserve her parent’s gravesite. 

“Why do you want me home? You wanted nothing to do with me for years.”

Petunia didn’t respond at first. She just flicked her cigarette. 

“Because we can start over.”

Lily should have argued more; she should have refused after all her sister had put her through, but she didn’t. Instead, all she answered with was, “Okay.” 

Present Day 

As Lily now ran through the forest, she thought about the day her sister promised they could start over. She lied then, too. Her sister was as absent as ever as Lily finished high school at home. Petunia was constantly working to support them, but she didn’t even try to explain why she had abandoned her years before, and Lily didn’t push for answers. Lily’s constant high school rebellion was begging for her sister to talk to her, yet she wasn’t there and didn't seem to care. She just worked diligently all hours of the day and provided Lily with cash when she needed it. Lily moved out when she was eighteen and hadn’t seen her sister since until a few weeks ago. The thought annoyed Lily that Petunia only seemed to show up when the world was turning to shit for her, one way or another. 

Lily finally stopped to catch her breath under the cover of a tree. The rain was still falling, and her red hair was stringy and sticking to her cheeks. Her father’s cap wasn’t protecting her face from the storm. She didn’t expect it would, anyway. 

She was suddenly startled when she heard a branch snap behind her. She turned around and grabbed her father’s pocket knife out of her pocket. It was one of the only weapons the whole group had now, she realized.

Sirius walked out from behind a tree a few feet behind her with his hands up. Lily rolled her eyes at the sight of him. 

“Why did you follow me?” She asked him. She was annoyed, she wanted to be alone. Hence, walking off and then running through the trees.

“I was pissed too,” he told her, “And I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“How noble of you.”

For once, he approached her hesitantly, “Look, I’m pissed at my brother and your sister as well, but I don’t think you should be so hard on Petunia. I think she-”

“Like you aren’t that harsh towards Regulus?” Lily argued back, “I don’t need a hypocritical lecture.”

“I do sound like a hypocrite, and I will admit my tactics with Regulus are… intense, but I have my reasons.”

“So do I,” Lily said, “Don’t assume otherwise.”

She crossed her arms from the cold, and Sirius noticed, “Do you want my jacket?”

Yes, Lily thought, but she replied, “No, I’m fine.”

She watched as Sirius took a deep breath and now sat in the rain with his back against a tree. Lily followed suit.

They were silent for a while and just listened to the rainfall until Sirius spoke up, “Do you want to know why I hate my brother so much?”

Lily shrugged. She was ridiculously curious, but she wouldn’t push. She didn’t want to seem eager to know anything about him. Letting people in was not something Lily practiced proactively. 

Sirius took that as a yes, and he began his story, “My brother was a prodigy as we grew up. He was younger, he was looked at as better looking, and my mother was obsessed with him. She hated me and wanted me to live up to my brother’s expectations. Naturally, I rebelled,” he smirked at the comment, “But that did not get her off my back, and my scars are there to prove it.”

Sirius lifted up the side of his shirt and jacket to show scars of lashes. Without thinking, Lily leaned forward to brush them lightly with her fingers. She watched as Sirius’ skin rose up into goosebumps. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and watched her. Gently, she pulled her hand back.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, “I-I can’t imagine.”

Sirius continued on, “My brother never did anything to stop her, he just-he just continued to be the perfect son. I’m just bitter I guess, and then when James died..”

His voice trailed off. 

“Who is James?” Lily asked him.

She watched as a tear trailed down Sirius’ face. 

“He was my best friend, along with Remus and Peter. Peter is gone now too, but James.. he-he died in a car crash. I was driving to pick up Regulus from his violin lessons to try and gain approval from my mother. I-I have truly hated my brother more ever since. The other driver was drunk. It-it wasn’t my fault but I can’t help but blame myself.”

“It was not your fault,” Lily told him fiercely, “Life is unfair and there are circumstances you can’t control. I understand completely.”

The rain had settled down now to a gentle sprinkle. Sirius pushed back his long hair from dangling in his face. Lily noticed how beautiful his eyes were, and she could not look away.

“How do you understand?” He asked her quietly. She could barely hear him. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

“Petunia and I lost our parents in a car crash as well, so unexpectedly. Petunia promised she would always be there for me, and she had been, until I needed her most. She sent me away to an academy and kept my Aunt Penelope all to herself. I only came home once my Aunt died, and even then… Petunia was no longer there. She tries to play a protector now that the world has gone to shit, but she has never protected me. I have only fended for myself and I-”

But Lily did not finish. Her words trailed off, and she just looked into Sirius’ eyes once again. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Lily had forgotten everything; what her bitterness was and why it was there. All that mattered in that moment was Sirius looking back at her and understanding. He was the first person that ever did, and for once, she didn’t feel alone. She knew she had only known him for a short time, but it felt like a lifetime. Lily was not sure what came over her next; she had always been impulsive, but never quite this brave.

She leaned forward and kissed his lips. Her hand cupped his face. He didn’t respond at first, until suddenly his hand was tangled in her hair and her father's hat fell into her lap. She pushed her father’s hat to the side as she now straddled Sirius’ lap. Everything was happening so fast, but it was natural, it was right. The warmth of Sirius’ body pressed against her allowed her heart to beat faster. She had never felt this alive since she had lost her parents. 

He didn’t need to say anything more; he laid down on his back into the dirt as Lily peeled her wet shirt off of her body. His calloused hands rubbed her hips as she unbuttoned his pants and thrusted her hips into his. She watched his lips form a moan and call out for her. Pleasure rushed through her body as she gripped his shoulders for support. It was passionate; it happened quickly. She wanted to replay it over and over again, but now she laid down in his arms and closed her eyes. He gently ran his fingers through her hair. This was the safest she had ever felt.

“That was.. You are.. Incredible,” he whispered into her ear.

She smiled against his chest in a way so he couldn't see her face, “Don’t make me regret it, bastard,” she teased. 

They laid like that for a while until the moon rose and the clouds disappeared. The stars were bright that night after the storm they had endured earlier in the day. 

Lily put her father’s cap back on as they walked back to camp. She kept her distance from Sirius now, and he didn’t ask. She knew he understood. 

When they arrived back to where they left Regulus, Remus, and Petunia all they saw was Regulus pacing frantically and Petunia trying to talk him down.

“What is happening?” Sirius asked.

It was then that Lily noticed Remus was nowhere in sight.

“Where is Remus?” She asked.