The last few weeks of term have flown by. Quickly. Mostly I was studying for exams, despite the efforts of the rest of L.O.V.E to make me get out more. Ever since that whole thing with Iola, I just can’t be bothered with this whole friendship deal. It’s like I don’t see what the point of it is. I’m just as happy on my own “ as long as I have Missy for company, of course.
It’s our last morning here, and we are packing last minute things up before we go to Hogsmeade Station. Iola is very quiet, I’ve noticed. Okay, I know she doesn’t talk to us anyway, but she hasn’t spoken to the Marauders all day, either. Not that I have been looking out for her secretly or anything ... She’s not even spoken to her precious cousin, James “Asshole” Potter. Maybe I shouldn’t be so nasty. Maybe she does have a tough life at home, and maybe “ just maybe “ she really is dreading it.
Oh, I hate this so much. No matter how bitchy I am in my head, I still miss her. She could really make me laugh and she was so fun to be with. We didn’t gossip about boys once, and beauty products weren’t mentioned either, which was a nice change. I mean, I love being a girl, it’s great, but sometimes you do get a little bored of that stuff.
I close my trunk with such force, that everyone turns and looks at me. “Sorry,” I mutter, and I lift it off my bed onto the ground.
“What’s wrong, Lily?” asks Ophelia. I shrug.
“Are you not looking forward to going home? Is it because of your sister and her boyfriend?” Eve asks, as she checks that the flower arrangement in her hair is still intact.
It’s a perfect excuse for my bad mood, so I tell her that she’s right. Iola makes a sarcastic “pfft” noise, but continues packing her things as if nothing happened.
“Excuse me? Do you have a problem?” Eve challenges her. Iola whips around.
“Why no, Evelyn. Do you?” She is smiling in a way that clearly means she is being bitchy. Who isn’t? Eve frowns. She is so much less pretty when she does that. Kind of like a Veela.
“Yes, I was wondering why you seemed to think that Lily’s worrying about her sister was lame, or pathetic?”
“Me? Think Lily is lame and pathetic? Of course not, Evelyn.” It really hurts to see her be so sarcastic about me. We were good friends for a while there, I thought. But it’s clear that even though I miss her, the feeling isn’t mutual. But I still don’t want to see her hurt, and Eve can be vicious.
“Just leave it, let’s go,” I say, picking up my trunk and dragging it to the door.
“Just stay away from my friends,” hisses Eve. Woah, dramatic much?
“What is her problem?” Valerie asks, as soon as we leave. She is deliberately in Iola’s hearing range. “I mean,” she raises her voice to be sure, “she just can’t get over that Lily picked us over her! Be careful Lily, or you might have a stalker on your hands!”
I don’t say anything, just carry on going, but I hear something shatter in the Dorm.
Once we are on the train, and it has begun to move, I let Missy out of her carrier (she hates to be confined for too long) and begin to read. My friends talk over the top of me, but I don’t listen. I guess they just think that I’m dreading seeing Petunia again or something. While this is true, I’m perfectly used to ignoring her, so that’s not the reason I am being so unsociable. But if they want to believe that, it just makes my life easier.
Eventually we arrive in London. After getting off the train, and queuing for ages to get off the platform, I find myself looking at my family.
My mother’s ever present smile widens. My sister’s ever present scowl deepens. My father’s ever present questions begin.
“Lily, darling! How have you been? What did you learn this term? Was it fun? How did your exams go? You didn’t cause trouble did you? And how are your friends? Did you miss us? Are you excited about the summer? What are your plans? Do you have much homework?”
Over the years, I have learnt to mostly ignore this until we are all settled down at home, and I am relaxed enough to answer everything methodically without stabbing something. I merely give Mum a hug, kiss Dad on the cheek, and say hi to Petunia.
“Bye Lily!” Ophelia calls. I wave.
“See you next year!” Eve shouts as she and her family begin to leave. I wave at her too.
“I’ll come over and take a look at your homework,” Valerie says, and I laugh.
I notice Iola and James. James has his hands on her shoulders and is talking to her, in what looks like a calming manner, but I can’t hear what he is saying. He pulls her into a brotherly hug, and they go their separate ways. James reaches a friendly looking couple, and Sirius joins him (I heard a rumour that Sirius left home last year and went to live with them. I guess it was true after all). Iola goes towards a man who had a lot of resemblances to James’s dad. Because they’re brothers, Lily, you nutcase. He and Iola don’t seem to give any kind of greeting, they just turn and leave the station. I notice James looking after them, biting his lip, worriedly. Something about Iola and her father is chilling.
We leave the station, and I get in the car. Dad is carrying my trunk for me, thank goodness. That thing is heavy. The whole way home, I can’t get the image of Iola’s father out of my mind. And that’s all the way back to our house, which takes about an hour.
A couple of days go by, and mostly I just get reacquainted with everything. And sleep. It is a Saturday when I meet Vernon Dursley again. He rings the doorbell as I am sitting in the Living Room, writing an essay that Professor Slughorn set. Good old Sluggy, he always gives easy homework. Or maybe I just find it easy, because I have such a talent for Potion making. Whatever, that doesn’t matter, the point is that the doorbell rings, and Petunia jumps up, flaps about a bit, and goes to open the door. It’s so funny when she’s nervous.
He comes in, with his chest puffed out, and his head held high like he’s King Pompous-Pants II (I say II because I have met his father, too). In fact, he was probably offended when I didn’t curtsey.
Petunia (who, by the way, still hasn’t realised that salmon pink is grotesque on her), clings onto his arm, and looks up at his face adoringly. “You remember Vernon, don’t you?” she simpers. I realise she is talking to me.
“Big head, overweight, and up himself? Of course I do. How could I forget?”
“How do you do, Lillith?” he says, stiffly. I look him up and down.
“Well, I’m not fat and ugly, so better than you, I presume? And it’s not Lillith. It’s Lily.”
“Yes, well, that’s good. I’m fine, thanks,” he says, indicating that he wasn’t listening to a word I said, he just presumed I gave the regulation “Fine thanks, and you?” response. Shame, I thought it was pretty witty, myself. Petunia, however is glaring at me and my clever insults, but that’s nothing new.
“Can I get you anything, darling?” she asks him, sweetly.
“How about some arsenic? Do you have arsenic in your tea?” I ask him, but am routinely ignored.
“Uh, yes, Lillith could get me a glass of red wine, if she will.” He doesn’t even look at me. What an ass!
“I’m sorry, I’m underage, and if I touch anything resembling an alcoholic beverage, I’ll immediately be arrested. And you, too, since you were the one who offered it to me. Now, you being in prison would be good fun, but I’d rather stay out for now. Especially if we had to share a cell! I wouldn’t be able to stand the stench!”
“Yes, thanks. And don’t take your time with it, either.” Honestly, he hasn’t heard a word I’ve said! All my witticisms are being wasted. If the Marauders could see me now! I wouldn’t be boring old Lily any more! They’d welcome me into their group with open arms, as the official wit-giver. Then I could publicly humiliate the lot of them.
Thinking about the Marauders gives me a brilliant idea. I leave into the Kitchen and get a wine glass. Now, a little water, some lemon juice, sugar, salt, flour, pepper, a hint of mustard, children’s cough medicine, some red food colouring, a good long stir, and voila! My talent for Potions shines again, it looks completely convincing! Should I add bleach, I wonder? No, I guess not. I don’t actually want to murder him completely. Not just yet, anyways.
I take my masterpiece into the Living Room, where Dursley is boasting about his job as a drill salesman or something hideously boring like that. Petunia is looking at him like he’s the Angel Gabriel. I hand him the glass, and he takes it without even looking at me or it. He brings it to his lips almost in slow motion. Tee hee, I’m squirming with glee! I’m so excited I’ve started to rhyme like a dime! Okay, that wasn’t great, but all I could think of in the spur of the moment.
He gulps about half down in one go. Not even a sip to test it out first. Oh, I couldn’t have planned it better myself! Even more delicious, is that he spat it over Petunia’s salmon dress, and threw the glass in the air with alarm, so that it sprayed out all over himself! I, of course, am doubled over laughing by this point.
Mum comes rushing in. It doesn’t take her long to work out what has happened, and I am confined to my room. It’s all worth it, though. I can just keep playing it over in my mind. The Marauders really would want me in their group if they knew what I just did! It didn’t even take that long to plan and execute, either. I feel a strong urge to write and tell Iola about it, but I know I can’t. Don’t think about it Lily, there’s nothing you can do about all that at the minute. Wait until the summer’s over. Aw, for once the voice has something nice to say. I wonder how long that will last ...
I spend two days in my room. I’m supposed to be in disgrace, but really, I don’t mind. The three of them go out a lot, which I think is meant to make me feel jealous that I’m excluded, and make me repent my misdoings, but it’s not worked so far. Probably because I just sneak downstairs and watch TV (something I really miss at Hogwarts), and occasionally make myself a sandwich or something as soon as they leave. Which, in fact, is what I am doing right now. They have gone to some carnival or something, but I don’t like crowds, and I’m quite sure they mentioned that Dursley was going, so I wouldn’t have gone, even if I had been offered. Which I wasn’t. Because I am in disgrace.
I take the butter out of the fridge, but it won’t spread. Mum reduced the temperature because it’s so hot right now, and it has apparently made the butter as solid as ... James Potter’s thick skull. I sigh, and look around for inspiration.
But of course! The microwave! I put the butter inside and set it to ten “ no, better make it twenty “ seconds. Just as I push “start”, the doorbell rings. They can’t be back, they’ve only been gone half an hour. And why would they ring the door? Why don’t you stop being gormless and investigate, Lily! Oh yes, the mean, sarcastic voice is back, I forgot to mention. Geez, if my conscience has a split personality, how can there be hope for the rest of me?
I open the door. “IOLA??” I screech. Blimey!
“Mind if I come in?” she asks, sheepishly. She looks in a bad way, and I am so baffled, that I step aside straight away. Well, I couldn’t keep her standing there, could I?
“What ... Why are you ... I’m completely ... How did you ...”
“I’ll explain everything “ yes, everything, Lily “ in a minute, but ... could I have a cup of coffee or something? I need to calm down a little first.”
I nod, not even realising what I’m doing. She follows me back into the Kitchen, where all my sandwich making stuff is laid out. Having, completely lost my appetite, I switch the kettle on, and begin to put it all back.
“Lily, why is there butter in this box thing?” she asks me. I realise with a shock that it is still in the microwave, and that ... Oh Merlin. What I thought was set for twenty seconds, turned out to be twenty minutes.
Why am I such a demented, deranged, degraded person? I run over, and hit stop, but the damage is long done. I just melted the butter into a bright yellow liquid. Iola helps me clear things up, which was nice of her since she’s a guest and everything, and eventually, I am able to make two cups of coffee with only minor difficulty. We take them into the Living Room, and as we pass through the Hall, I notice that her trunk is sitting there. It’s not just a quick social call, then.
We sit down. I look her in the eyes, and say, “Tell me from the beginning.”
She looks at me sadly, and nods. “In that case, we’ll start from when I was six years old.”
AN: Gasp! What’s going to happen now? By the way, Lily melting the butter in the microwave by setting it to twenty minutes (rather than seconds) is not my warped imagination “ because it happened to me. Yes, I will proudly stand and admit that I did just that, and not too long ago either. I thought (after I got over the I’m-such-a-retard stage) that it was far too good not to put in a fic, so there we go. I hope you liked this! Time to review!