There Is No Such Place

Chapter summary: James and Severus both write a letter, while Lily's family does its best to drive her mad.

The first few days home from Hogwarts were always awkward, as Lily tried to re-adapt to suburbia. The wallpaper, carpets and furniture seemed subtly wrong after months spent in stone walls; she always felt as though she should look out for Peeves or Filch.

Her room no longer felt like her own space, she decided the day after she returned. She was lying in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, looking up at the walls. She felt awfully exposed without the cocoon of red curtains around a soft four-poster bed. Several times during the night, she'd half woken, thinking that she was back at school, and Geraldine and Mary were sitting up and watching her sleep.

Her room hadn't changed much since she'd left for Hogwarts. It was still filled with the detritus of her primary school years: awards for various subjects, photos of gap-toothed seven year olds, childish sketches still proudly bearing their gold stars.

The juvenilia of a teenage witch, Lily thought. She needed to redecorate, but this wasn't the time.

Dinner the night before had been a hideous affair. Petunia had been cooking when Lily walked in, and barely looked up from the elaborate meal she'd been preparing. Their mother had eventually emerged from her room to push food around her plate, bidding Lily a distracted greeting, and then returning to her room. Their father had looked lost and a little guilty that he couldn't join his wife in her grief. No one had spoken to Lily, and, still worried about James, she'd gone to bed as soon as she could.

She was distracted from her brooding by a rhythmic tapping at her window. Crawling out of bed, Lily drew her curtains back and admitted a neat owl. She smiled when she recognised Severus' handwriting on the envelope.

Her flash of pleasure faded when she opened the envelope, and a clipping from the previous day's Evening Prophet fell out.

PRESTIGIOUS FAMILY KILLED IN DESTRUCTION OF ESTATE, screamed the headlines. 'Ministry Denies Involvement of You-Know-Who,' added slightly smaller print.

'The wizarding world was rocked today by the death of the Potter family and the destruction of Chester Park,' read the article.

'Minister of Magic John Chambers denied the rumours that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named executed the attack in person. "Come now, that's a bit absurd," he told Prophet reporters this afternoon. "You-Know-Who has no interest in destroying purebreds, and the Potters could trace their lineage back to Merlin. It was a political attack led by jealous Death Eaters, nothing more."

'The entire family had assembled at Chester Park for the funeral of Stephen Potter, an Auror killed in the line of duty three days ago.

'The College of Aurors has refused to comment, but a source has hinted that the attack was revenge for Stephen's exploits.

'The last surviving Potter is James, sixteen, who was traveling from Hogwarts to London at the time of the attack. He will inherit the sizable Potter fortune, along with the businesses and estates of his deceased aunts and uncles.

'James Potter has refused to speak to the media, although his godmother, Sothis Black, has gone on the record as saying, "The Potters were a fine family, the best in England ... and I'm not talking about the quality of their blood." Mrs Black is, of course, notorious for having ended a long line of pureblooded wizards by marrying a Muggle...'

Lily put the newspaper down slowly, her hands shaking. Severus had also enclosed a terse handwritten note: 'It was all over the school. Most people think that Chambers is either lying or stupid. Miss you. Severus.'

Lily glared at the parchment, absurdly irritated. Downstairs, she could hear someone moving around in the kitchen. She tucked the newspaper and parchment into a drawer and went downstairs.

Her mother was in the kitchen, making tea. She looked up and smiled at Lily, although her eyes were red and her face was puffy.

"Hello, darling," she said, giving Lily a quick hug. "Ah, I've missed you."

"Me, too. You seemed awfully distracted last night."

"Oh, well. I don't really want to deal with people. It's too -- too -- I just wanted to think."

Lily poured herself a bowl of cereal. "I could come back later, if you like."

"No, no. I'm glad you're here." Catherine Evans sipped her tea and watched Lily, who tried not to feel self-conscious as she opened the fridge. "I think you've grown."

"I have. I had to use magic to extend my robes last month. I think they've gone as far as they can go, now. Looks like I'll take after Dad's side of the family."

"Yes ... I suppose you will. Cup of tea?"

"No thanks. I've been craving real orange juice for months. Pumpkin juice is nice, but it's not -- not *orange* enough." Her mother smiled slightly at this, and Lily was cheered. "I'm sorry about Grandma Madison," she said as she sat down at the kitchen table.

"I know."

"No, really--"

"Lily." Her mother's voice was sharp. "*Everyone* is sorry, all right? One more person doesn't make much difference, and you never liked her much anyway--" She stopped suddenly, looking appalled. Lily tried to speak, but her throat was tight, and all that emerged was a strangled gasp.

Mrs Evans touched her hand. "I'm sorry, Lily."

"I -- I--"

"Lily. Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Lily whispered.

"I know you're sorry about Mum. We don't want people to die, even if we don't get on with them." Her mother stared into her tea, rotating the mug in her hands. "To be honest -- I never got on that well with Mum, and she's being ... difficult. Manipulative. And I'm just so tired of hearing how everyone's sorry--" She stopped, and stood up.

"I'm sorry, Lily. But I can't--" She shook her head. "I need to have a shower." Mrs Evans left, leaving her still-warm tea sitting on the table. Lily watched her leave, feeling sick.

She looked around kitchen. The early morning sunlight was streaming through the eastern windows, reflected off the sink and metal appliances. It was pleasantly homey, despite her sense that the world was out of kilter.

Upstairs, she heard the shower running. Footsteps padded won the stairs, and Lily heard Petunia singing as she made her way to the kitchen.

Her good mood evaporated when she saw Lily.

"You're up early." Petunia made it sound like an accusation.

"So are you."

"I need to cook Daddy's breakfast."

"Why? He doesn't usually get a hot breakfast, does he?"

Petunia was pouring oil into the frying pan and pulling bacon out of the fridge. "He has a very busy day at work."

"He spends all day at his desk."

Petunia spoke through gritted teeth. "He's a very busy man."

Lily shrugged. "Okay." She picked up an egg. "Can I help?"

"You?"

"Why not? Remember how I used to make omelets, before I went to Hog--"

Petunia snatched the egg out of her hand. "No. I don't want you -- we might all be poisoned!"

"Oh come off it, Petunia. Magic is neither contagious nor harmful, and not even Snape could spontaneously poison someone. However much he may want to."

"What's a snape?"

"*Who*, Petunia. He's a boy at my school."

Petunia regarded her through narrowed grey eyes. Lily blushed, and covered it by turning around and switching the kettle on.

"You cook," she said. "I'll make the tea."

Their father entered, doing up his tie. "Not arguing already, are we, girls? It's barely seven o'clock."

"Not arguing," Lily muttered.

Her father ate his breakfast neatly, reading a manuscript as he did so. Lily snagged a piece of bacon fat and nibbled at it, ignoring Petunia's disapproving gaze.

"We're going to see Grandma this morning," Petunia said. "Make you that you're dressed properly."

She swept out of the kitchen. Joseph Evans glanced up from his breakfast and gave Lily a comforting smile. "She's coping in her own way, Lily."

"I know."

Lily wandered up to her room and searched for a "proper" dress to wear to the hospital. Everything in her wardrobe seemed to be too small. She could probably have gotten away with the ultra-short skirts, although it felt strange to bare her legs after so much time wearing gowns more reminiscent of the Middle Ages than the mid-seventies. But there was no getting around the fact that they were also too tight across her chest.

Her mother, a towel wrapped around her body, poked her head in the window. "Having trouble?"

"Well, you weren't exaggerating when you said that I'd grown." Lily held up an old yellow dress, which now looked more like a shirt.

"I have something you can borrow."

"Let's hope it reaches Petunia's standards of normality, then," Lily muttered.

"Petunia's been very supportive and helpful," her mother said reprovingly.

"And I've just shown up from my secluded boarding school and started arguments. I know."

"Arguments?" Mrs Evans raised a pale eyebrow; Lily decided not to explain further. Her mother pulled a neat blue dress out of her wardrobe. Lily pulled a face. The dress was frumpy and unflattering, but it would at least fit her.

Petunia poked her head through the door.

"Mother, Liliane was being completely--" Her gaze fell on the bed. Lily gave her sister a sweet smile. "Are you wearing that?" Petunia asked.

"Apparently so. Unless you have something--"

"No. Don't you have any decent clothes of your own?"

"Well, I *could* visit Grandma Madison wearing robes, but I think she'd disapprove."

"I said decent clothes."

"Girls!" Mrs Evans' voice was firm. "Stop."

Lily and Petunia both subsided. "Sorry," Lily whispered.

"Petunia, did Daddy get the train on time?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you." Their mother sat down on the bed, still wearing her damp towel. "Now. I think that you're both old enough -- more than old enough -- to go without this silly bickering. It's very, *very*--" Her face crumpled. "Distracting."

Lily stood up. "I'm sorry," she said, preparing to leave.

"No, wait," said Mrs Evans. "Pet, can I have a moment with Lily?"

Petunia looked outraged. "Why? Are you going to talk about me?"

"No, of course not. But I just have a few things to tell her."

"So why can't you tell me?"

"Petunia. *Go*." Mrs Evans gave Petunia a look reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. Petunia flounced out, slamming the door behind her.

Mrs Evans shook her head. "I don't know ... she's such a strange girl. I can't talk to her the way I talk to you." She sat down at her dressing table and began to brush her hair. Lily moved behind her and took the brush from her mother's hand. She brushed her mother's thick, pale hair and listened to her speak.

"It's my fault, perhaps," Mrs Evans said. "I was so sick after she was born, and we moved around so much when she was little. I think that if I'd been stronger, or if I'd demanded more stability, then I would have been able to get on better with Petunia.

"We have nothing in common, though, so perhaps I'm deluding myself. But I look at my relationship with my mother, and I look at my relationship with Petunia, and all I can see are parallels." She reached up and patted Lily's hand. "I had a little sister, too, you know. But she died when she was Petunia's age ... her boyfriend had a motorbike, and there was an accident."

"Did she get on well with Grandma?"

"Anna?" Her mother snorted. "Hardly. They were always fighting, tooth and nail." She became serious again. "Anna only went out on that bike because Mum had forbidden it."

"Oh." In her minds' eye, Lily could see the photo of her dead aunt, taken only a week before her death. Anna Madison had been darker than her sister, and she'd almost disappeared into the shadows of the old black and white photo.

"But I loved Anna," said Mrs Evans. "And I sometimes wonder about you and Petunia."

"I love Petunia," said Lily. She thought it would kill her, sometimes, and yet, she went on loving her sister.

"That's ... not what I meant, precisely."

"I know."

Lily twisted her mother's hair into a knot and found the combs and pins that would hold it in place.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I will be."

Her mother surveyed her reflection and rewarded Lily with a smile and a peck on the cheek. "Go and get dressed," she said.

***

"Good morning, Liliane."

Grandma Madison looked like a shadow, barely leaving an indent on the hospital mattress. But her voice was strong, and her gaze, as she looked Lily up and down, was steady.

"Can't be much of a school," she said. "You look like a stick."

"I'm just growing, Grandma."

"Growing. A girl should be done growing by now. Neither of your parents are especially tall, and I certainly wasn't. You must take after your grandfather."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw her mother twitch. She never spoke of her father, who'd died when she was ten, but Lily had the impression that Major Paul Madison had been even more unpleasant than his wife.

"And that red hair," Grandma went on, "with those eyes and all that white skin ... you look like some kind of witch, girl." This time, it was Petunia who flinched. "Or a Gaelic gypsy. It's that Welshman your mother married, I'll wager." She smiled unpleasantly at Mrs Evans, standing behind her.

"Daddy grew up in England, Grandma," said Lily softly.

"Don't you contradict me, young lady. I've met his parents, I know what he is."

Lily's other grandparents had moved to England when her father was young. They had melodic Welsh voices that laughed as they told Lily stories.

"Come closer, Liliane." A withered hand summoned her. Lily moved closer to her grandmother's bed, reluctantly, for the old woman smelled of sour lavender. "On the night-stand, next to the tissue box."

Lily followed her grandmother's waving hand. Buried in a pile of used tissues, she found a small, wooden jewelry box containing a golden locket.

"For me?"

Grandma Madison nodded. "Petunia got the rest ... the eldest girl gets the jewelry. But that ... *you* should have it." Her grandmother was watching Mrs Evans as she said this. Lily turned around and saw that her mother was visibly furious, despite the tears streaming down her face.

Inside the locket, there was a small photo of her grandfather. He was wearing his full military uniform, but despite his youth and dark good looks, there was something unpleasant about his face.

"Bastard," her grandmother said softly. Lily flinched; it was almost as if her grandmother had started swearing like a drunken sailor. "He was a cruel man, a terrible husband and a cold father. I wish you joy of him, Liliane."

"Mum--" began Mrs Evans.

"Quiet, Catherine. You know it's true."

"You shouldn't put this on Lily."

Grandma Madison struggled to sit up. "I've dealt with this alone for forty-five years, Catherine. Aren't you the one who said I should 'open up?'"

"Lily's too young--"

"Old enough." Her grandmother met Lily's eyes. "Knowing enough, anyway. Sneaky girl, eh, Liliane? Always watching, always remembering ... I know your kind."

"I'm not--" Lily began to say, and then stopped. There was truth in her grandmother's words.

"You are." Grandma Madison subsided, looking exhausted. "That's enough," she said. "Go."

"What?" Lily exploded, surprising herself. "I come all the way into London for this, and you give me an old piece of jewelry, insult me and then dismiss me?" She paused to draw breath, but Petunia grabbed her arm and she stopped.

"Come on, Liliane," said Petunia. "Grandma's sick. She tires easily."

"I know," Lily said softly. She allowed Petunia to steer her towards the door.

"Mum?" asked Petunia.

Their mother's mouth was tense. "I'll be along in a minute."

Lily and Petunia exchanged a look, and then left.

There was a waiting area near the nurses' station. They sat in the uncomfortable chairs and avoided each others' eye. Lily flipped through a magazine.

"Can I see your locket?" Petunia asked suddenly.

"What? Oh, yeah." Lily pulled the box out of her bag and handed it to her sister. Petunia held the locket up to the light, and Lily noticed the flash of their grandmother's ornate ring on her right hand.

"I like your ring," she said.

"You can't have it."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I don't want it."

"Good." Petunia opened the locket and studied their grandfather's photo. "We don't really look like Grandfather Madison, do we?"

Lily put her magazine down and moved to the chair next to Petunia's. "I guess not," she said finally.

"Neither does Mum."

"Not everyone in a family has to look alike. I mean, look at you and I. We don't really look like sisters, except that we're both really thin, and we both have very pale skin."

"I suppose so." Petunia scrutinised Lily, who tried not to feel self-conscious. "I look like Mum," she said finally. "I don't know who you look like. Dad's cousins, maybe. I think some of them have red hair." She smiled. "Or maybe you're a changeling. You know, left by the fairies. They stole my real sister and left a freak to infiltrate the family."

Lily groaned. "And you think *I'm* crazy. For a start, fairies don't leave changelings. Nor do elves. They're not the type. Dark wizards do it, sometimes, but I really don't see why they would, since you have to trade a real child, and no Dark wizard would trade a magical child for a Muggle. You *could* leave a golem, or some other kind of fake, but it wouldn't live for more than a couple of years. So I'm afraid that you're just going to have to get used to the idea that I'm really your sister."

"Well put, dear." Lily and Petunia looked up to find their mother standing over them, smiling slightly, although anger remained in her eyes. "Let's go, girls."

Their mother's anger lingered throughout the day, making her movements tight and her voice brittle, although her words were unfailingly courteous. Lily stayed out of her way, sitting up in her room and reading through her study notes.

Late in the afternoon, Petunia knocked at the door. "Mum wants you to cook dinner, if you can," she said.

Lily put her book down. "Why wouldn't I be able to cook?" she asked, but Petunia only gave her a look which made her feel like a mental incompetent.

Lily was preparing her lamb casserole, the only proper meal she felt confident making, when the phone rang. Her mother answered it, and Lily heard her voice sharpen and then die down as she spoke.

Mrs Evans hung up the phone and entered the kitchen. "That was your father," she said. "He'll be home late."

"Okay."

Her mother poured herself a glass of juice. "Sorry about Grandma," she said.

Lily shrugged. "She's old. I guess she has the right to be a pain in the -- um, neck."

Mrs Evans smiled tightly. "She'd like to think so. If I ever try to behave like that, do tell me to get over myself and shut up?"

Lily laughed. "Yes, Mum." She began slicing the broccoli, nibbling on a piece as she did so. "Why's Dad late?"

"Meeting."

"Oh."

As she cooked, Lily mentally composed a letter to Severus. He'd barely spoken to her after the incident outside Spawforth's office, but several times, she'd caught him watching her intently. It was a miracle that no one else had noticed.

In her mind, she tried to assemble her words into a coherent question. It all came down to one thing, she decided: "How do you feel about me?" But then other questions became attached: was she more important than Slytherin house? Was he willing to make any promises, and would he keep them if he did? Did they have a future?

Did they have anything?

That just brought her back to the beginning.

After dinner, she attempted to put all this onto parchment. An hour later, she had several messy, ruined parchments, but no letter.

Downstairs, she heard the front door open.

"Hi, Daddy," she called.

"Hello, pumpkin," he called in return. He spoke to her mother for a few minutes, and then came upstairs. "How was your day?" he asked. "Mum says that Grandma was a bit critical."

"She was. But I'm okay, otherwise."

"And she gave you her locket?"

"Yeah." Lily pulled it out from her shirt and opened it, but her father waved his hand, distracted.

"Lovely, dear."

"How was your day?"

"Oh, frustrating. I've been having problems with some science textbooks. Can't seem to convince the author that his writing is incomprehensible. Can't convince my superiors that it's important. Be glad you're not in a government school, Lily."

"Oh, I am."

Her father left, undoing his tie and muttering about cell structures and osmosis. Lily returned to her attempted letter.

'It's not that I want to make accusations,' she wrote, 'but I'm never sure what you're thinking. And I'm tired of playing secrecy games. I'm tired of keeping things from my friends.'

Down the hall, she heard her parents having a conversation in low tones.

'It's disturbing, to think that the staff have some kind of agenda for us. I know how you must feel -- remember, I didn't like it when it was just Crowley. But you have to trust me, if no one else: I'd never hurt you. And I don't think you want to hurt me.'

God, she thought, sucking on her quill. She sounded so whiny.

"Then what's the problem, for God's sake?" her father yelled suddenly. Her mother shushed him, and Lily heard their door close.

Lily turned back to her letter, but she'd lost her train of thought. Petunia appeared at the door.

"Why do you use a quill?" she asked. "Haven't you people heard of ball-point pens?" She wandered in uninvited and picked up Lily's ink bottle. "Messy stuff, anyway."

"Not really. You get the hang of using a quill pretty fast, and I bought a specially charmed bottle that wouldn't break."

Petunia put the bottle down quickly.

Their parents' raised voices could be heard again. Petunia frowned.

"They never argued before you came along," she said.

"Yeah, well, I'll be back at school, soon."

"That's not what I meant." Petunia sat down on Lily's bed. Gingerly, she picked up a piece of parchment, using only her thumb and the tip of her forefinger. "I remember when Mum was pregnant with you. It was the first time I ever heard them yell."

"You probably just misremember." Petunia had a knack for rewriting history, after all.

"And they fought for ages when you got that letter."

"Yeah. I remember that."

Petunia frowned. "I'd hoped they wouldn't let you go. Still, it's nice having you out of the house for most of the year. Listen, when you meet Vernon, *try* to act normal. Don't -- don't go talking about spells, or changelings, or anything weird. His family's very straight, you know, and very important. His sister's a dog breeder."

"My friend James breeds owls," Lily offered. Petunia gave her a look which suggested that it wasn't at *all* the same thing, and if she wished to associate with owl breeders, then she should do it far away from Petunia. It was a very eloquent look.

"I'm just saying, don't -- don't embarrass me. I, uh, I really like Vernon."

Lily gave her sister a careful look. The difference in ages and schooling meant that they'd never discussed boys before.

"What's he like?"

"Normal."

"Oh, come on, Petunia, there has to be more to him than that. He works for a drill company, right?"

"He's a junior clerk. But he's about to be promoted." She squinted at the parchment she was holding. "Who is Severus?"

Lily snatched the parchment back. "He's a friend."

"God, you people all have such weird names. 'Severus'. What is he, some kind of Roman emperor?"

"Latin names are just common in the wizarding world. I guess it's because we still use Latin a lot."

Petunia grimaced at the word 'wizarding'. "Why can't you be bloody normal?" she snapped. At the same time, their father yelled, "Why can't you be bloody honest."

The congruency made Lily giggle, awkwardly in the silence that followed. The Petunia stood up, rather stiffly.

"I'm going to bed," she said.

"Good night."

Petunia didn't answer. Lily closed her door and put her head under her pillow, pressing down until she could hear nothing but white noise.

The next day, her parents were tight-lipped and silent, and Petunia glared at Lily, her accusations unspoken but clear. Tension only became worse when an owl swooped over the breakfast table and dropped a letter in Lily's toast.

Recognising Severus' handwriting, Lily withdrew up to her room. She spent most of the day trying to study, yet returning over and over again to his short letter.

'I can't make promises,' he said. 'I can't be noble, or heroic like others.' There was a smear of ink on the page, as if he'd changed his mind about what to write. 'In the entire world, the only thing I know for certain is that life with you is infinitely preferable to life without.

'Is that enough?'

Lily studied the letter until it was burnt into her memory: every flick of the quill, every loop of ink, every uneven edge of the page, which had evidently been torn from a notebook.

'Is that enough?'

She didn't know, she thought blindly. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wiped them away, furious. Her mother's mother was dying. James' family was dead. And she was crying over a letter, like some pathetic fairytale princess.

The phone rang. A few minutes later, her mother tapped at the door.

"That was the hospital. Mum's condition is worse. Dad's driving me in to sit with her."

"Do you want us to come?"

"No. That's all right." Mrs Evans paused. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You didn't get bad news this morning?"

"No. Just ... just a confusing letter."

"Well, we'll talk when I get back, okay?"

"Okay."

Her mother wasn't back the next morning. She rang after breakfast, apparently assuring Petunia that there was no need for the girls to come in. Petunia didn't let her speak to Lily.

Another owl, a large, tawny creature, arrived late in the afternoon. Its envelope contained several sheets of cheap Muggle notepaper, covered in shaky handwriting that looked as though the writer was somewhat unfamiliar with ball-point pens.

It took Lily a minute to recognise James' handwriting.

"Popular, aren't we?" said Petunia snidely.

"Shut up," Lily said, and retreated to her room.

'You'll probably think that this letter is presumptuous, or intrusive,' James wrote, 'but I need to write this down for someone to read, and I want it to be you. I'm sitting in Muggle London, in a cheap café which sells really bad coffee and slightly better cakes. I have a bit of Muggle money in my robes, and a lot of wizarding money.

'I'm sitting here in my robes, which are attracting a bit of attention. My dad would have a fit if he knew that I were out here without the proper clothes, but then, that's rather beside the point now. If he were still around to be pissed with me, then I wouldn't be out here.

'I've spent most of the day sitting in a small room with a solicitor. Don't know the fellow's name, but the firm has dealt with my family for generations. We're that sort of family. I'm not the richest man in the wizarding world. I'm not even the richest man under forty (I think that's Lucius Malfoy. My Aunt Beatrice could have told you; she was that sort of person). The firm is making arrangements with the Ministry so that I can be considered of age now. All sorts of interesting legal things are happening, although I could leave the estates to run themselves if I wanted to.

'I spent hours in that room with the nameless solicitor. When I finally left, I gave Sirius and his mum the brush off, and headed out into Muggle London. I wandered around for a couple of hours, thinking about all the things I'd like to say to you.

'I was seriously planning to come out to your house. Muggles have something like the Floo Directory, right? I was going to find your place, and show up on your doorstep with twenty pounds and an uncertain number of galleons in my pocket.

'Not sure what was going to happen next. I had vague ideas of persuading you to elope with me, except that your parents would probably be around, and they'd disapprove. Anyway, my broom and everything's at Hogwarts, and you'd want your things.

'And there's no point in running away to a desert island if you can't Apparate back to civilisation when paradise gets dull, and I won't be able to learn to Apparate until the summer. And you'll have to wait another couple of years after that. We'd lose our momentum, and momentum's really important when you're eloping with someone. Or so I'd imagine. I've never eloped before.

'As much as I liked the idea of running away with you to some perfect place where there are no Death Eaters, or Dark wizards of any persuasion, it didn't seem like my greatest plan. For one thing, I had no guarantee you'd come with me, and it's always embarrassing when a proposal like that is knocked back.

'In the end, I stopped into a Muggle newsagent and bought this paper, and this pen, and then I found a café. I bought some coffee, a piece of cake, and I started writing.

'Having told that story, I'm not really sure what to say next.

'I wouldn't normally babble like this, although you *do* sometimes inspire babble. I think it's because you're so quiet. You watch, and listen, and absorb. It's a little disturbing, to be honest, because I always wonder how much you know. If you didn't explode once in a while, I'd wonder if you were real. (Fortunately, you *do* explode, and quite beautifully, too. Should do it more often; it's dead funny.)

'Babbling again. Doesn't seem to be much point in pretending to be dignified, or entertaining. I feel like my head is trapped in the Bubble-headed Charm, except that I can't breathe. But all the sounds are muted, and there's nothing. Past, future, family, friends. None of them are real.

'I'm sorry. You don't want to hear all this, I know. I just needed to say something. Anything. Maybe it's not a bubble. Maybe it's a pillow, and it's suffocating, and these are just my screams before I die.

'Maybe I should stop now.

'Sirius is tapping on the glass. His mother is with him, and she looks furious. I need to go.

'I'll send this when I get back to Sirius' place. Before I lose my nerve and burn it, or something.

'Yours, James.'

Lily stared at the letter. There was a coffee stain on the second page, and cake crumbs on the third. It was easier to analyse the traces of food and drink on the parchment than to consider the words themselves.

They'd hate to hear it, she thought, tucking the letter into her Arithmancy textbook, but James and Severus had more in common than they thought.

The phone was ringing downstairs. Lily ran to get it, but Petunia beat her.

"Petunia Evans ... oh, hi, Mum. Oh. Oh dear. Oh, no ... yeah, I'll put her on." She handed the receiver to Lily.

"Mum?"

"Lily. Mum just died."

"Oh, Mum. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Lily. She worked hard to disguise it, but Mum was in a lot of pain." Her mother took a deep breath. "It was a very peaceful death."

"I'm sorry," Lily said.

"I know. Listen, I'll be home in a couple of hours."

"Okay."

Lily hung up the phone and turned to Petunia, but her sister was already walking away.

to be continued...