lily evans to the rescue (lilying) wrote in dissentwo, @ 2013-07-01 00:39:00 |
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Lily couldn't stop counting. Seventy-three cases of beer that she lugged into chilled cases, open topped for easy access. 49 bottles of firewhiskey that were stockpiled to replenish as the bottles in the living room dwindled. 3 Portkeys organized from London. She hurried around the house lighting the 77 long white candles — with a matchbook, underaged that she was — trying not to burn her fingers and moving as fast as she physically could. It was Mary's family's wake, but in truth Lily had been perhaps more instrumental in the logistics than Mary's mother. It seemed only fair, to Lily. Ingrid had gone through essentially the most horrific loss Lily could imagine, losing a child. It was the least that she could do to send out invitations and organize the food (3 roasts, 4 minced pies, 7 loaves of thick bread, amongst others) and help with the decorating — as if Margaret and Magnus couldn't have done it faster on their own with magic — and if no one had asked her to help, well, that was fine, she sort of just... went ahead and did it. There was just so much to do, really. There was no time for anything else. Lily hadn't slept at all. It seemed unfair that she should get to sleep, when there was so much to do, when so many people were hurting like that. People started to arrive when Lily was lighting the last of the candles and she was still dressed in her tattered jumper and jeans, so she hurried upstairs to the bathroom to change. The door to Mary's room was open and Lily could feel her throat constrict painfully, stomach doing a roll that threatened to spill the breakfast she had not eaten all over the wooden floor. In a flash she could see herself at eleven, bright face beaming at the little blonde girl who had been her very first best female friend. She breathed sharply and forced herself into the bathroom, forced herself to think about 77 candles and the guest list and was there enough cheese for the bread and was it sliced and did everyone have transportation for the burial tomorrow because she was genuinely afraid that she might vomit if she didn't. Lily threw her dress on in a rush, zipping the back and shaking out her hair before beelining downstairs for the kitchen, intent on slicing more cheese because they were surely going to run out it didn't matter that someone could do it faster with magic she was free to do it and someone should, so. Blindly she entered the kitchen, completely unaware of its occupancy or lackthereof, it didn't matter, she had things to do. Her hands shook as she fumbled through the drawers for the good knives and she made a short impatient sound, attempting to get them to stop. Lily knew where the knives were, she was being ridiculous. She'd spent mornings in that kitchen making silly omelets with whatever they could find, doing shapes in pancakes and debating whether they looked more like flobberworms or the Giant Squid. She breathed sharp, clattering over the slam of wood and the jumble of metal utensils, trying to get her shit together. James knew that although it hurt to think about what happened to Mary, it wasn't his main job for the nest few days. His best friend, brother now, had lost his girlfriend, and although Lily wanted nothing to do with him even after all these years, she was still a house and yearmate, and she had lost her best friend. He hadn't left Sirius' side since the hospital, especially through his best friend's birthday, but today it seemed that Sirius needed his space. He would be a pallbearer at the funeral, and James had been hovering enough for the time being. While heading into the kitchen to just temporarily get away from the crowd, he heard the clattering, frowning when he noticed Lily -confident, stubborn Lily- looking frazzled and anythng but confident. He walked over to her, gently grabbing her wrist to calm her down, forcing a smile. "What do you need? I can help." Lily froze for a second in surprise and then turned to look up at James, her usual antipathy somewhat low on her list of priorities at the moment. "Knives," she said, shortly after a tense moment. Vaguely, she was aware that she must look a bit of a fright. "Or, rather, one." She looked down at the place where James's skin touched hers and hurriedly broke away to fetch the cheese, laying it out over a cutting board with hands that trembled a little violently. James wordlessly went in search of a knife, finding it after only a few attempts. Staring down at Lily's hands and then back at the knife, James just shook his head nd gently pushed Lily aside, "I don't trust fiery little redheads with sharp objects," he joked, smiling a more genuine smile at her as he began to cut up some of the cheese. "You might finally give in to six years worth of temptation and finally stab me." With a vague noise that could have been agreement, Lily stepped back, standing vacantly for a beat. "Right, well. I'll just —" She stared around the kitchen, counting back the rising panic in her throat. "I'll get out some more cups, they'll be needing those." The spare glasses were in a high up cabinet and though Lily wasn't especially short, she certainly wasn't tall either, and she had to climb up onto a chair to reach. She was passing them down to the counter as fast as her arm could go, faster, counting all the while — the number of guests, the number of beverages, how fast she thought people might go through drinks — and she was distracted, thinking about all that, distracted enough to overestimate her balance and slip a little, her knee sliding off the counter and a glass tumbling from her hand to shatter on the floor. Lily hissed at the sudden onset of white hot pain, squeezing her eyes shut through it, attempting to get back up a bit too quickly. James dropped the knife and darted toward Lily, paying little to no mind to the shards of glass scattered on the floor. He kneeled down beside her, worry evident in his eyes, as he looked her over. "Christ, Evans, you okay? Here, let's get you to the chair. Give me a bleedin' heart attack, why don't you?" James held out a hand in offering to help her back up. "Yeah, I'm — I'm fine, thanks, I've just got to get that," said Lily in a voice that cracked in the middle, accepting the hand and then immediately trying to move towards the closet where the dustpan was kept. Her whole body was shaking now, not just her hands. When she was thirteen she'd picked a splinter of glass out of Mary's palm with tweezers at this kitchen's table, telling bad jokes to make Mary laugh, keep her distracted. It'd been a plate, then, that they'd broken and the dustpan and the broom were just over in the closet and if she just got to them quickly she could keep moving, she could keep going, and she moved forward only to slip, again, catching a bit of glass in her foot. She clutched at James's forearm to keep her from falling. Distantly Lily noticed a small, horrible, choked sound. Distantly, she realized that it came from her. Her hands tightened on James's forearm and she made another small sound, helplessly. Mary had had a dumb haircut that summer, and Lily had worn those horrible bellbottoms. She could see the white flash of Mary's smile then, how she'd groaned at the jokes, how she'd pretended it didn't hurt so bad when Lily had messed up with the tweezers, to try to make her feel better. Lily was breathing fast and shallow now, her eyes all blurry and threatening to spill over. "Sorry, in a minute I — I just need the dustbin, it's in the." Lily cut herself off, her accent thick and choking. "In the closet, I can." All Lily could see was her best friend's face, fading in memory, she'd never see her in this kitchen again, laughing or ranting or anything else, she'd never see her trying to flip one of their pancake creations she'd never — she'd never see her. She'd never see her again. "I need to sweep this up, Margaret will need to get to the ice box." Lily tried another step but winced, the glass in her foot making itself known. "What you need to do is sit down and let me take care of things," James ordered, gently but firmly, as he filled up a cup with water and sat it next to Lily. "Sit here, stay still, I'm going to clean up and then we're going to get that glass out of your foot. Drink the water." James made quick work of sweeping up the glass on the floor, being no stranger to clean up even larger messes as a consequence of some of his pranking in the past. Once he was sure it was safe enough for people to walk past without stepping on any glass, he left the room, only to quickly return with a pair of tweezers, wet rag, and a bandage (another necessary skillset when you decide that learning to turn into a fucking deer with huge antlers would be a fun extracurricular). He sat down in the chair next to her, and this time when he spoke, he made sure to keep it more light and as a request than his earlier command. "Give me your foot." Okay, maybe only slightly more. Lily offered her foot on instinct, looking a little lost, her chin still making a slight distressed tremble. She rubbed at her neck as James held her foot, taking breaths as deep as she could make them, trying to force down the hurricane that was brewing in her throat. She swallowed hard and bit at her lip. 7 loaves of bread. 77 candles. 3 portkeys. It wasn't helping, her eyes kept filling and James was treating her foot with this horrible tenderness that she almost couldn't bear. She covered her face, pressing the palms of her hands into her eye sockets, and did her almighty best not to think about Mary lying so still, so still in her room. In books they always say it was like they were sleeping but it wasn't, it wasn't at all. Mary moved in her sleep and breathed and stole covers. It wasn't like she was sleeping. It was like she was dead. Lily's shoulders shook a little and she forced it down, focusing on the pain in her foot instead, trying not to feel how sure and capable James's hands were on her skin or how she hadn't been thinking of him as Potter or how she had sat here with Mary three years ago and thought she'd be her best friend for the rest of her life. James remained focused on her foot, making sure he made no sudden movements or jerks to hurt her any further, and once he got all the glass out, he wiped the cuts with the rag before wrapping the bandage around her foot carefully. Once he was sure it was neither too loose or tight, he looked up at her, ready to give her a grin and let her know she was all patched up, but the look on her face made that impossible, and while every instinct inside of him was screaming to reach out and hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay, he knew he couldn't. Not just then. With Sirius he knew what to do. It wasn't easy, and there were moments of uncertainty, but overall Sirius was his best friend, and that's what times like these called for; a best friend. And Lily had lost that, and not even James Potter was dim enough to realize how hard this must have been for her If he ever lost Sirius... He refused to even consider it. No. "Whatever that brilliant mind of yours is thinking right now needs to be put on the back burner for now," James suggested, hand still carefully placed on top of her foot. "It's okay to be upset, Lily. You and Sirius seem to think you guys aren't allowed to be, but you are. If anything, you need to be. Maybe you'll listen better than Sirius." "No it's. It's fine, I just need. Just a minute," Lily choked out, pausing in between words to keep herself in check but they still came out thick and wavering. She took a breath, pressing her hands to her face again and avoiding James's gaze, the concern etched over his eyebrows. "Loads of, um. Loads left to do, so." She could feel it build up in her, the tidalwave of what she was feeling and she hadn't sat down for more than five minutes without something helpful to work on in front of her in days, maybe not since it happened. "No, you're done for the day. I'm bigger and stronger, so don't make me strong arm you into relaxing," he warned her, eyes intensely fixed on her face, before softening up a bit. "You know, for a pacifist, Mary sure had quite a slap to her. I swear to you she left a bruise last week when I asked her if I could speak at the rally to try and pick up a date," he said with no lack of fondess as he lifted his sleeve on his left arm up a bit. "See?" The sound that came out of Lily then could not charitably be described as anything else but a sob. It was involuntary, her face crumbling like a wall had been knocked down, and she leaned forward, head in her hands as her back shook like there was an earthquake somewhere in her ribcage. Maybe there was; it certainly felt that way. God, she missed her, she missed her so much it was a horrible aching void in her heart that was sucking up everything around her. The tears were flooding out her eyes now. Whenever Lily was upset or nervous she'd go to Mary, or to Sev, and now Sev cared more about the people who did this and Mary — it was a bit like being told she could never go home again. It was a bit like half her heart crumbling away. She nearly folded in on herself then, inadvertantly ending up almost against James, her leg flush against his torso. Wrapping his arms around Lily to try and comfort her came naturally to James, and so he shifted their positioning so James's chair was now right next to her as he held her and let her cry. Gently stroking her hair and rubbing her shoulder, things he had dreamed of doing for years under different circumstances, James told her that it was okay, assured her that she was allowed this. He said nothing more, but offered every ounce of comfort he had in himself to give. James Potter was such a baboon's arsehole and Lily did not like him or enjoy his company but it was so hard to remember that now, with Lily's face buried half in his neck and half in his shoulder. He smelled good, even through her tears, sort of like soap and boy and laundry, and he felt solid and there and Lily felt a bit like she was going to drown if he let go. She wound her hands in James' button down tightly without thinking about it. She was crying harder now than she ever had in her life, maybe as hard as she did as a small child when the loss of a stuffed animal was earth-quaking. Lily had always been too good-humoured and sensible to do things like cry at breakups or a bad mark but this, this was a genuine earth-quaking moment. One minute Mary was here in this kitchen and they were laughing and the next minute she was sobbing her heart out on the shoulder of James fucking Potter because she missed her best friend and she was so, so, so sad she didn't think she'd ever feel quite okay again. James pressed a soft kiss t the top of her head and gave her a squeeze before finally speaking. "You need to rest. Let's go to her parents' room, and I promise to wake you up in an hour. Please?" Lily took a few deep, shuddering breaths, pulling away from James just far enough to rest her forehead against the jut of his collarbone, eyes squeezed shut. She nodded there, not trusting her voice to be steady enough not to break. James nod his head, and before she could argue, stood up and scooped her into his arms, knowing walking alone would have been tough as it was, so with her wounded foot, he didn't even bother asking, making sure not to make a big deal of it. He took a less crowded route to the room, only nodding in response to Ingrid's silent question. When he entered the room, he gently placed her down, grabbing the throw blanket at the foot of the bed, covering her. "Rest," he said quietly, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to the door. "I'm going to go make sure everyone has cups and drinks." Lily's tears had slowed and were replaced by a bone-deap weariness and it wasn't hard to succomb to the bed, her eyes weighing shut. Before she could, she forced them open for a moment, looking towards the door. "Hey, James," she said quietly, stopping him in the doorway. It may have been the first time she'd used his first name since they were eleven. "Thanks." "Go to sleep, Evans," he smiled at her before flipping off the lights, shutting the door behind him. "Oh, fuck off, Potter," said Lily to the empty room, but she was almost smiling, a little. She went to sleep. |