Late that night at around 1 o’clock AM both James’ parents came home. Helena went straight to the kitchen, while her husband decided to try to find Petunia and notify her of the disaster. In the lower level of the house, like so many magical manors of the period, she found her kitchen, the embers of the fire dying.
James had his head resting against a very pretty sleeping redhead. Lily? Is that her name? thought Helena. It touched her on some level that this was the first of James' serial girlfriends she had met in a year or two. Of course, the name “Lily Evans” came up quite a bit, especially with Sirius Black around, but only recently had it been from James. And now, before she had even had a chance to shake her hand, meet her properly, she was invading on the worst day in this poor girl's life.
With a sigh, she poked James awake. He opened his eyes at once, and raised his wand.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
Instead of a reply, Helena summoned up a chair and fell into it.
“What happened?” he said again.
“Get Sirius,” she said. “We doing this the Dumbledore way. Everything out.”
He didn't question her, but got up slowly, lifting Lily’s warm head onto a pillow from the edge of the sofa.
“I think she has a fever,” muttered James, looking down.
“Go on. I’ll deal with her. Come straight back.”
James knew the look in her eyes too well to ignore her. It was similar to Lily’s fiery-eyed look, but Helena’s had a hint of weariness that Lily rarely let show. He moved out of the kitchen, down the corridor, up the stairs to his room. When he reached the door, he found Sirius lying awake.
“What’s going on?” Sirius joked, sitting up. He obviously hadn’t heard the news. “Evans miss you so much -”
“Don’t,” James cut in. There was no anger in his voice, but he wanted to explain in a serious manner.
“OK, what’s up then?” Sirius had noticed his best friend’s tone. It confused him.
“Lily's here because...” He couldn't look in Sirius' eyes, afraid he'd lose it. “Her parents are dead,” he said heavily, leaning just as dependently on his wall.
Sirius gaped back, obviously stunned. He grasped his wand and began to twirl it nervously. “I...” He apparently didn't know what he was, and instead let in and out a deep breath. His eyes were like a house-elf's.
“I know… I know…” James said, resting his head I his hands. After a few moments of silence, James spoke. “They didn’t even do anything.”
Sirius leapt out of bed and pulled James up, who fell limply on the bed with fatigue.
“I’m exhausted,” he said softly.
“Come on, man. If you’re ever gonna marry this girl, she has to know that you’re always gonna be there for her,” said Sirius wisely. “Or otherwise she might just have to leave you and be with...” he grinned, “me.”
“Padfoot, I didn’t know you knew so much about women,” James retorted, not quite able to smile.
“Oh, shut up, Prongsy. Let’s go check on the little buttercup.” Together, they walked downstairs. Inside, Helena was fussing nervously over Lily.
“Oh, boys. James - you’re right, she has a fever,” Helena said. James’ brow furrowed and he quickly strode over to were Lily lay, tossing and turning, sweat on her cheeks.
“Delenio.” A warm washcloth covered Lily's forehead, and she seemed in her sleep to calm.
Sirius broke the silence. “What happened at Ministry?” he mumbled politely.
“Well, they immediately dispatched the some MLE officials, and of course they found the Dark Mark above the house. Muggles can’t see it, of course, but they can see bodies. Somewhere, the Ministry people found what looked like a Death Eater’s mask lying nearby. Well half the Aurors spread at once, and the other half at the Ministry was trying to figure out what to tell the Muggle law enforcement people. Your father is finding her sister to tell her the… er, news.”
For a few more minutes, James, Sirius, and Mrs. Potter engaged in whispered conversation, but they quickly became silent once more.
“I don’t think she’s sick,” Helena told him softly. James hated her babying tone.
“What can we do, then?” he retorted.
“Just… wait for her to wake up.”
James sat on the floor as he had so many times before, pulling Lily’s hair away from her face.
Thankfully, a pop came from the fire, followed by a face in the flames and a welcome voice.
“Boys? Helena? Are you there?” called Jack behind the couch.
“Jack! What news?” Helena called, rushing and kneeling before the fire.
“Well that sister of her’s…” said Jack, fuming with distaste. “What a little -”
He stopped at the looks from James and Helena, though a quick glance at Sirius found a curiously amused smile egging him on.
“Anyway, I found her. She has a file at the Department of “” but he stopped again, glancing at the look on his wife’s face. “She, er… was very upset, naturally. Husband of hers nearly took off my head with that stray end table, and she damn near fainted when we told her. Says she’ll arrange for the funeral and such.”
“That’s very good of her. Isn’t it, Jack?” she added.
“Yes,” he said back, shortly. “Why aren’t you all with the girl -”
“Lily,” said James sharply from the corner.
“I’ll be home when I can. I’m off to speak with the Daily Prophet - try to get a clean story out of them.” And with a *pop* Jack’s head was gone.
Helena seemed to be drained, and said “I’m off to bed. Can you two handle yourselves?” They nodded. “I'll be in my room, if you need anything. Goodnight.”
They bade her goodnight, and waited for the door to click. The orange light that had sparked from the fire was simmering under the ashes, and the darkness was making James groggy.
He looked up at Sirius, who stood silent in corner, arms across his chest as usual. His dark eyes and hair gave him a powerful look, and his sharp chin and broad figure all enhanced this image. He bent down on his knees in a squat, and his eyes were filled with sorrow.
“What are you going to do tonight?” he asked, in a voice he only used with James.
“I have to stay here.” It was plain from the reflection of determination in his hazel eyes how acutely he felt her loss, her pain. He was doing the adult thing, for once: he was staying.
“Well, we can make it a party…” and with that he summoned two blue sleeping bags, similar to the squashy purple ones Dumbledore always could find.
“Are you sure?” asked James, with uncontrollable relief.
“Hey,” said Sirius, grinning, “the closer I am to the kitchen, the better.” James got up and pulled Sirius into a brotherly hug.
Sirius shook himself, dog-like, and crawled into his sleeping bag. James sat back near Lily, grasping her hand. In minutes, James and Sirius were both soundly asleep.
Lily woke with a start, willing herself to go back to sleep. She couldn’t remember any of her dreams, but she could still feel the sadness and fear they possessed. Like a tidal wave, the previous night washed over her-- she was an orphan.
Her father, the man who had loved her, raised her to be the strong, fiery woman she prided herself on being... he was dead. She was surprised, but more than that, she had a blankness of mind. Not a word, not a single thing anyone could say was meaningful.
And her mother. The woman who had cared for her. Been selfless, even overprotective for her baby girl, was dead too.
She imagined what people would say, what she had said to her friends in the same situations.
“Don't worry... I'm so sorry... What can I do for you?”
The truth was she just wanted to be alone.
She knew that someday she would think back on this. She'd have to tell people her parents had died when she was seventeen. It wasn't something she wanted to say. More was the question she knew she least wanted to answer, especially to herself.
How did they die.
They died, she told herself miserably, cowering in their home in the middle of the night, not realizing the world I brought to them was going to kill them. They died because I was too selfish to stay at home and lead that life.
Petunia was right all along.
Her abnormality had not only isolated her from her sister, but it had now killed those people who loved her. She wanted to tell them all of the wonderful things she'd accomplished, all the little things she'd neglected or forgotten. To be able to give them the satisfaction of having raised a good daughter.
A good daughter? She laughed hollowly. Not only was she a useless, no, that wasn't enough. She was nothing better than a murderer.
Wiping her eyes with from the silent downpour she suddenly felt there, Lily sat up. She felt a warmth not her own, and found James’ hand in her own. He looked uncomfortable, obviously in a position so as to be able to hold her hand from the floor. A soggy towel was stretched across her forehead. In any regular situation, it would have meant a lot to her. But this wasn’t normal.
Blank thought consumed her again. It was possible not to think at all, she found; be so sad or lonely that she could sit here and cry without having to think or speak. She felt wide awake, and wished with every breath and every stinging second that she could return to her stupor.
Sorry about the confusion with these past few chapters. This chapter has a title I don't particularly like anymore, but I've vowed to keep at least those the same.