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Lily Evans (just_lily) wrote in silverage,

"I am a witch," Lily agreed, glad to be able to say that. She could admit it so rarely, in this Muggle-dominated city. "It wasn't ... anything from our world that did it. We don't think, anyway. It ..." She shook her head. "No one knows, not really. But there are people from all sorts of times here. Even the distant future. It's nothing to do with him," Lily hurried to assure him.

Lily licked her lips as she tried to work out the bit about Neville being pureblood and why it would matter. She hadn't asked for all the details of the second war, and she had only the vaguest idea of what happened during it. "Neville's ..." She hesitated. "Twenty seven, I think he said. The Herbology professor at Hogwarts." She paused a beat, then frowned. "I'm sorry. This must be horrible information overload and here we are standing in the cold. Would you like me to take you to the center? It'll be warmer there and they'll set you up with a room and food and some more appropriate clothing for this weather."

She smiled a little at his realization. "I know already. What ... what happens to me. If you had any inclination to try to skirt the issue." Neville had, during their conversation, and she imagined no one really liked being the one to tell someone when and how they'd died. "I'm not his mum yet. I'm not even married yet, but ... Sirius is here, and Remus, and they told me about Harry, and of course Neville told me some stories about him." Lily tilted her head to indicate she was ready to escort him if he was inclined. "If you'd rather stop for something to eat first, before you're shoved into the whole welcoming process, we could do that, too."