Sotto Voce

Chapter 3 - Skewed Lines

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness.
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another.
Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and a silence.
- - - -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow "Tales of a Wayside Inn"

Lily awoke to the cold pink light of dawn, thick duvet clutched tightly between her hands and wrapped between her legs. She reluctantly extricated herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as her head began to pound with a migraine. She was subject all too often to the throbbing headaches that seemed resistant to every cure, Muggle and magical.

The house elves seemed to have already been in the room, as a fresh uniform and school robe were folded neatly for her, last night´s discarded clothes already on the way to the laundry. Fresh pastries and steaming, golden toast were laid out on delicate plates of china, the cup of thick, dark hot chocolate that the house elves had laid out last night still sitting there.

Wrapping a thick crimson robe around herself, she put her hands around the mug of chocolate and found it still to be scalding hot, exactly the temperature she liked it. Lily never failed to marvel at the house elves, and wondered vaguely if their cooking skills were indicative of their magical prowess.

She bit delicately into a creamy éclair and drew her legs up to her chest. While Lily doubted anyone else at Hogwarts lived in the sort of luxury that she did, she wondered if the dormitories were as cold as the rest of the castle, her private room included. It seemed as if the entire school was set to `frozen,´ and no matter how thickly she layered her clothes, she was always cold.

The sun rose further in the sky, and a beam of light blinded her. She put her head in her hands and rubbed her temples. The headache seemed to be worsening, and she knew from previous experience that pain-relieving charms would do no good. Today would not be a good day.

Lily sighed and resigned herself to a bath. She crossed the corridor to run her fingers along a set of grooves that would open up the bathroom door. Her hand looked like finely carved ivory against the rough dark rock, and her long fingers slid along the wall as gracefully as if she was fingering a harp.

The stones dissolved in front of her and she stepped into the cozy room. The wall rematerialized behind her, wood-paneled walls blending in seamlessly. The house elves had apparently drawn a bath for her as well, and Lily smiled faintly with gratitude. The creatures tended to her with such care that it warmed her heart. She could only hope that if she had child that she would treat him or her with such love and tenderness.

The bathwater was equally as scorching as the hot chocolate, and she felt a bit warmer sliding into the claw foot bathtub. A little voice in her mind - the psychoanalytic one - was telling her that she craved human contact, and no amount of piping hot liquid would substitute.

She firmly quenched that thought, though, as she washed and rinsed her hair with a thick, herbal shampoo-and-conditioner hybrid that was probably some magical hair care product. She didn´t know of any Muggle hair products like this one. It came out of the bottle in a thick, opalescent goo that shimmered to a dark red-gold the color of her hair.

Lily stepped out of that bath to grab a plush towel that absorbed all excess water, leaving her hair already dry. Quickly brushing her teeth, Lily hurried over to her room, feet already cold from walking across bare stone. She changed slowly, taking care to pull on an extra sweater and thick grey knee socks. She glanced at herself in the ornately carved dresser mirror and cringed slightly.

There were already dark smudges of purple under her eyes, which she rectified with a quick concealing charm she learned specifically for that purpose. She brushed her long hair out, vibrant strands turning gossamer at the tip with thinness. Her skin had a pink flush to it, the result of her capillaries being clearly visible through her translucent white skin.

Lily glanced at her schedule, undoubtedly left by the house elves, who probably received instructions from Dumbledore. It consisted entirely of advanced classes, plus divination as an elective. Hogwarts had a new professor - someone named Trelawney evidently was their new divination teacher.

Grabbing her book bag (essays and textbooks already reduced and tucked safely inside), she stepped out into the dim, cold corridor, the hidden entrance swinging shut behind her. Mona Lisa was snoring ever so slightly in her portrait, and a ghost of a smile flitted across Lily´s lips - if only da Vinci could see his famous painting now.

Lily had found that the portrait didn´t differ too much from its static counterpart; the legendary half-smirk (a feature that was perhaps more illustrious than the subject herself) seemed to be permanently etched across her features, but Lily suspected that the smile was such an intrinsic part of the piece that even magic could not warp it.

She was drawn out of her contemplation by a soft clattering sound, and imagined for an uncharacteristically morbid moment that tiny bones were being clicked against the stone. The reality proved to be decidedly less macabre.

A rat, which she deduced to be the source of the noise, scurried into view, red eyes glinting in the light of the candle. The rather fat thing stared at her for a moment, beady eyes narrowing further before it disappeared once again into the shadows, the only evidence of its presence the soft echo of claws scraping against stone.

Lily stared after it for a moment and suppressed a shiver that was for once not a result of chilliness. In all her time at Hogwarts, she had never seen a rat in the castle, let alone one who stared at her, she decided, in an unquestionably calculating manner. Why hadn´t the thing been eaten by one of Filch´s (or Professor Figg´s) cats? Why was it even alive?

Surely it hadn´t been collecting scraps under the table in the Great Hall - the more squeamish students would have caused pandemonium, and she couldn´t imagine someone keeping the thing as a pet; rats had gone out of fashion as pets when even she was a first year. Lily pulled her school robe more tightly around her, glancing one more time in the direction the thing disappeared into before making the short walk from her room to the library.

She usually arrived there before Madam Pince, who had given her the keys to get into the library at any time she wished. Therefore, Lily was more than slightly surprised to see the library doors already open and also absent of the librarian. She peered inside and walked tentatively across the rows of shelves stuffed with books bound in various colors of leather.

She walked a bit further, into the much dustier shelves of the restricted section. A loud snarl, followed by stifled curse emanated from nearby, and Lily tiptoed around the bookcase to find none other than James Potter glaring at a book that was squirming desperately in his grasp, its indignant cries muffled.

Lily´s eyes widened and she involuntarily drew in a sharp breath of surprise, turning quickly away with the hope of escaping without his notice.

James apparently did notice her however, and swiveled sharply to face her. He mirrored her surprised expression for a moment before he began to stammer.

"Oh...erm... I, was, erm, reorganizing the shelves? You know, trying to get in good with Madam Pince?" He smiled sheepishly at her.

Lily merely nodded mutely, unable to think clearly. Her head was aching dully, and her brain felt like cotton. What was he doing, invading her early morning sanctuary? She wondered how he had gotten in; the thin-lipped librarian hadn´t given the keys of the library to anyone else as far as she knew.

But James Potter was indeed in front of her, clutching a rather irritated tome on hexes and looking like he was trying desperately to come up with a valid reason for his presence.

His silence gave her a moment to collect her wits, and she forced the fog out of her mind. It would not do for her to be going about in a semi-comatose state. The disorientation was replaced by a sense of irritation that only those who are tired or in pain can possess. James has no right to disrupt my routine, she thought crossly. Lily averted her eyes sharply to the belligerent book in his hands: Heinous Hexes for Harm, by Hellene Harpy.

She spoke in a clipped voice. "You might want to ask its permission before you take it out. That one´s rather hostile."

He shrugged and shoved it back into the bookcase, where it answered with a stifled shriek. "I´m not sure I want to take out a vicious book anyway. Times like these I long for Muggle books. They don´t move at all, you know?"

"I´m quite well-versed in the Muggle world, seeing as I grew up in it," she answered stiffly. "If you´re quite done messing about with books you obviously have no idea how to handle, will you kindly exit?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them.

James flushed, but his smile didn´t falter. "Well, erm, yes-" He paused abruptly and his smile widened into a grin. "Hey, you ran into me at Platform 9 ¾! I didn´t see you on the train."

It was Lily´s turn to blush. He remembered her clumsiness? Oh, fabulous. And he hadn´t seen her on the train? Well of course he hadn´t seen her; she had hidden her compartment from view. "I...I was on the train. Perhaps you just missed me."

"No - I looked in each compartment and I didn´t find you. I asked the Gryffindor girls if they had seen you, but they said they hadn´t. You´re in Gryffindor, right? Are you in my year? I don´t think I´ve seen you in my classes, and I haven´t seen you in the Common Room before, yet your badge would indicate you´re a Gryffindor and Head Girl. What´s your name?"

Lily simply stared at him for a moment, flustered by his inquisitiveness. This was why her classmates overshadowed her. His rapid questions were rather overwhelming, and she wasn´t even sure how to answer.

On one hand, it was rather nice to be acknowledged by one of her peers, but on the other hand, she felt rather insulted. She was in nearly all of his classes, and he didn´t even notice her presence? Granted, she did make a conscious effort to be inconspicuous in class, but nevertheless, she was the other Gryffindor prefect that attended all the prefect meetings.

Lily shifted uncomfortably. His behavior was too reminiscent of Petunia´s for comfort. The complete ignorance of her interspersed with interrogation mirrored her sister´s attitude almost exactly, even if it was absent of the venom.

Her defense mechanisms, the ones she employed almost exclusively around Petunia, went up automatically, and Lily´s emerald eyes flashed. The headache was like alcohol in a twisted sort of way. It made her tongue looser, but sharper, and caused her to shed her inhibitions while simultaneously erecting defenses.

Half of her brain was occupied suppressing the pain of her headache, and the other half was attempting to compensate for this unprecedented situation. Already off-kilter, Lily began to react the way she would with Petunia. She drew herself up imperiously and answered him icily.

"Your deductive skills are astonishing. Yes, you are correct - I am a Gryffindor. I am also in your year as my position as Head Girl would logically dictate. And my name is Lily Evans." She paused, before adding haughtily, "The name before yours on the list of top exam scores."

She regretted her words as soon as they spilled from her lips, and resisted the urge to clap her hand over her mouth. Perhaps the Sorting Hat indeed had a vague idea of what it was doing, because if Gryffindor bravery involved saying things that necessitated the sticking one´s foot in one´s mouth, she was aptly placed. Remorse settled in quickly. Her coldness was hardly warranted, especially to the first person of her year that spoke with her outside of an academic context. And to James Potter - wasn´t this supposed to be the boy she was attracted to? - wait, she corrected herself, most certainly not attracted to. Besides, he was trying to be kind, or at the very least he was curious. Certainly not malicious - certainly not like Petunia.

James didn´t appear to notice her cold manner, though, and merely smiled. "I´m glad I can put a face to the name." He looked carefully at her. "And a beautiful one, at that."

Lily swallowed deeply, too mortified by her earlier harsh words to say anything further.

He continued lightly, seemingly taking no heed of her awkwardness, "I´m on my way out anyway. Breakfast has probably started by now. Come with me," he said brightly, reaching out a hand to take hers.

Lily backed up a step, now slightly panicked. Just because she had gone into the Great Hall last night didn´t mean it was an incident to be recurred. Besides, she thought with derision, who was she going to sit with? She would look rather odd among the first years, and she was pretty sure that they didn´t want a "figure of authority" in their midst anyway.

"No!" Seeing his hurt look, she amended, "I´m...I´m not hungry. It´s better here. I mean, I have work to do. Thank you for the offer, though."

He looked searchingly at her, but backed away from the issue politely. "All right then. I guess I´ll see you in class. Unless you need help with your homework?"

She shook her head slightly, hair shielding her face from view.

James gave her a heart-melting, lopsided smile. "See you around, Lily."

Through her curtain of hair, she watched him leave the library, his black school robe flowing out behind him. His untidy hair was illuminated by a stray shaft of sunlight, and looked thick and dark as midnight. Lily gripped the shelf in front of her tightly, painfully aware of how hard her heart was beating. That had to be her single strangest encounter with any student at Hogwarts, including the incident where she had to lead a bunch of inebriated third years back to school after they had accidentally ingested firewhiskey-laden butterbeer.

Lily forced back tears. She had been cruel, and he repaid her with kindness that wrenched her heart. She could have possibly made an acquaintance, even a friend, if only she hadn´t allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the situation. Her reaction to him had been instinctual. He had caught her off guard, and it was exacerbated by the fact that his hurried questions were similar to Petunia´s sharp, interrogative manner.

She allowed herself a rare moment of misery. That´s what you get for opening up even a tiny bit to people. You simply drive them away. This incident simply reinforced the prudence of her policy of isolation. Her crush would not - could not - go any further. She did not want to hurt anyone else by lashing out irrationally, and she didn´t want to get hurt herself.

Lily did not want to be trapped in the spiral of self-induced sorrow. She would apologize to James and he would forget about her and her unkind words and she would go on with the relief (the disappointment, a nasty voice chimed in) of knowing her status of `nonexistent´ remained unchanged. Somehow it was not comforting thought.