Lilith (potter_girl) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2010-11-16 19:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, 2025 11, dead character: lily luna lestrange |
RP: Lily and Hope
Who: Lily Luna Lestrange
Where: St. Mungo's
When: November 17, 2025, barely past midnight
Summary: Desperation
Sleep was impossible. Hope lay slumbering in the bassinet, dry and fed and warm, tiny hands fisted beside her head, and her tiny rosebud mouth suckling softly. She was so beautiful; Lily's heart ached just looking at her. That something so perfect had resulted from something so... so despicable...
And yes. Her marriage had been despicable. She'd been manipulated. Controlled. Brainwashed into believing what served the people who'd taken her. Made to believe that they were just and righteous over everything she'd believed her whole life...
But it didn't change the fact that she'd loved him. That she mourned him. That she wept now, silent tears for a child that would never know its father. For a father that would never hold his daughter. For a family that would never be...
Lily walked to the window, looking out over the inky black of the city, wishing that she could just take her daughter and go, but it wouldn't ever happen. She'd never be allowed. She'd never be free or accepted or allowed... She was a Lestrange, in name or reality, it didn't matter. She'd done terrible things in the name of righteousness, and it wouldn't ever matter what she learned or felt or realised or did. She was damned. Utterly damned.
And her child, right along with her. An innocent, Remus had said, but she'd never be looked at that way. Hope Potter would be revered, held up for the blood that ran through her tiny veins, but Hope Lestrange would be condemned for the selfsame thing.
Lily lingered at the window, one hand pressed to the glass until the chill spread through her, thinking. Pondering. Mourning. She turned and pulled parchment and quill from her bag and returned to the bed. She'd spent hours writing letters to her daughter. The guards barely gave her a look.
Dearest whoever cares...
As long as I've lived, I've known what was right. At least, I've known my parents' version of 'right', of 'good', of 'just'. I've done things that went against every grain of anything they ever taught me. I've killed. I've learned to make people bleed and watch them die without them even realising that they are. I've tortured. I've loved it, and I'm doomed because of it.
There's nothing I can do to change what I've done.
Aunt Audrey, I'm so sorry. I can't ever replace your parents.
Uncle Bill, I know that Aunt Fleur died because of me. I can't ever say that I'm sorry enough.
Jamie and Al, I know that Daddy's dead because of the lies that I told, and because he loved me so much he'd do anything for me. I can't replace him. I wish I could.
I know that the people that I was involved with were the ones that destroyed our family. The reason we lost Grandmama and Papa, Gideon, George, Angie, Roxanne, Louis, so many others. I can't ever atone for their sins, or mine.
I won't ever be free, not with my name, but I can't toss it aside when it's so much of what I am. It will haunt me, and my daughter.
I have to protect her. From everyone. People that would condemn her for her name. People that would hate her because they hate me. I can't protect her if I can't be with her.
I'm so sorry.
Lily
She folded the parchment and laid it in the bassinet as she bent to pick up her baby. She whispered lullaby sounds, and soothing murmurs, settling into the bed with Hope. Her hope. Her beautiful, precious Hope...
The guards stood across the room, barely bothering to look at her as she rocked her baby, sang to her daughter, went over things in her mind. Her name. Her husband. The things she'd done. The things she'd learned. Wandless magic that she'd honed. Learned to control.
She reached for the parchment and opened it, adding one word to her signature.
Lestrange
She let it fall to her lap.
"Hope," she lifted her daughter and kissed her forehead. I'm so sorry.
A breath of spell-focused magic severed vital vessels without waking Hope. Her daughter went limp in her arms and, still, Lily waited. Waited. Wiped away the trickle of blood from the baby's mouth.
"Hush," she murmured, soothingly, and barely spared the guards a glance as she opened her gown and lifted Hope to her breast. She ignored blood that stained her skin and stroked the silky hair.
With her Hope right here with her, Lily settled on her side, her free hand pressed against her own chest. She looked for another long moment before directing the same lethal spell inward.
There was no pain. Good, then I didn’t hurt her. She coughed once. Again. No pain.
"I love you..."
It was so dark. She felt weak. Tasted copper on her tongue. Felt warmth on her pillow. Her vision grew hazy, blurring Hope’s body in her arms until all was black.
Peaceful.
They lay together, mother and child, one curled around the other as if sleeping peacefully, bodies cooling until morning's light warmed the room.