The Parents Who Died

The Parents Who Died: Part IV of Tale #1

Come See the Softer Side of James...

All reminds me of your name

We sought fortune through the rain

Everyday and every place

Everywhere I kissed your face

All the sacrifice in vain

How could you put all the blame upon me?

That’s not fair.

So the story goes.

Once upon a time we had the moon

We had the stars

We were divine

Now she hides the pain

She fears

She throws herself before her bed of lies

She’ll be sorry

--Nine Days, "Back to Me"

The strangest day and night of Lily Evans’s life followed the odd death of her parents. She’d sat there on her porch step, knees up and arms hugging them, watching, first, the paramedics carry her parents’ bodies to the ambulance to be taken to the hospital. Then, while this was taking place, three police cars drove up and beefy men, obviously gruff for having their Christmas cut short, stepped out and by Lily into the house, where they began a thorough search. Neighbors peered out their windows curiously, but this unable to satisfy them, they dropped all traces of prudence and stepped out in Lily’s lawn, craning their necks to see what was happening, trying to stretch the yellow tape that blocked off the yard to its limits.

Lily felt hollow and empty, unaware of the bitter wind, of the snow fluttering down around her, ignoring the spectators and investigations. Dressed, still, in a simple long-sleeved shirt and jeans, she just sat there, rocking slowly back and forth, hair weaving back in the wind, trying with all her might not to think. 

Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.

But she still thought.

She thought about her father, saw his face smiling down at his youngest daughter, his baby, holding a baseball and bat in each hand. 

Hey, Tiger, want to play ball?

"No," Lily whispered, shivering, eyes fixated upon the wet cement below her. "No, I don’t want to play ball, Daddy. I don’t."

But he was still there. Still smiling, still teasing...still loving. 

Hey, Tiger... Tiger. Tiger.

Lily shook her head, looking the other way, now studying the white, snow-strewn grass.

Her mum was there, holding a dishtowel in her hand and smiling.

I love you, flower. Now would you help me with these dishes?

Lily’s head swayed side to side violently as she insisted she didn’t.

Mum put her hands on her hips, gazing sternly at Lily. Now, Lily. I’m your mother and you’ll help me with these dishes.

"No."

HELP ME!

"No, I won’t."

I’m dying...help me...save me...

"No."

I love you, Lily.

"No."

I’m dying because of you, flower, but I still love you.

"No," Lily whispered desperately, blinking at some odd moisture in her eyes.

I love you.

Hey, play ball with me, Tiger.

I love you...

Hey, Tiger...

I love you!

Tiger!

* * * * *

The Knight Bus came by Vernon Dursley’s home the next morning. As he was grown and owned his own house, Lily and Petunia had taken refuge there, both dismal, both not speaking.

Petunia blamed Lily, of course.

The funny thing was...Lily blamed Lily too.

Bag slung over her shoulder, Lily said bye and thank you to Vernon, and then went outside to board the Knight Bus.

A young man with pimples named Ernie showed her to a bed set, and then the train rumbled and swerved away, with Vernon Dursley peeking out his window. When he saw the bus disappear, he fainted. 

Even this couldn’t bring a smile to Lily’s face.

She sat, curled in a ball, by the window, watching her surroundings fly by. The bus shook and threw about, but somehow she managed to stay in the exact same place, monotonous eyes fixed out the window.

Help me, Lily, her mother begged, reaching out hopelessly to her daughter.

But Lily couldn’t move.

* * * * *

She took sanctuary in the library as soon as she entered the building, setting her bag next to a table in a far corner, hidden by tall bookshelves. It was quiet and calm in here...something Lily really needed.

Immediately setting to work in order to busy her mind, Lily skimmed over the bookshelves, taking any books to her table that might help her with her project.

Hey, Tiger.

Her eyes were itchy and tired as they scanned the pages of musty books for any useful information. But none was to be found.

What seemed a day but was actually an hour had passed, and now Lily flipped the pages of her fifth book less reverently. Nothing was there. Why bother? she thought. 

I love you, flower.

"...You-Know-Who was a bad, evil person," Lily read tiredly. "Wow. I didn’t know that." She slammed the book shut so that a cloud of dust billowed up from its pages.

She sneezed.

"Bless you," said an all too familiar voice at her shoulder.

She moaned. He just had to find her, didn’t he?

James Potter, grinning pearly teeth, pulled a chair out from the table and saddled it backward so he could look at Lily. "Well, I’ll be," he cried, in a mock hick accent. "If it ain’t Miss Lily Evans."

Lily ignored him, picking up another musty volume that proclaimed itself a Dark Arts dictionary.

"So," said James, eyeing her through sparkling eyes. "What bring ye yonder?"

"If you wish to speech in a specific type of dialect," Lily began, opening the book, "then at least get it right."

Still grinning, James acquiesced. "Anything to please thee."

"Not Shakespeare," Lily snapped.

"I bite my thumb at thee," quipped James, doing just that. He gnawed at his thumb. "And if thou art not so beautifully formed, then I would bite my thumb at thou more forcibly."

"Who’re you supposed to be?" Lily scrutinized him critically. "Sampson and Gregory?"

"Oh, no," said James, grinning. "I always ended up being the Nurse."

"I can see that." Against her will, her lips twitched.

"Actually," James went on, "I was always Romeo."

"Oh, yes, I can really see that."

"Yes, I know," James sighed. "I know I’m gorgeous."

"Really," Lily said dully, skimming over the rotting pages of her book.

Coming to the realization he didn’t have a rapt audience, James became a little more serious. "Anyway, why’re you here?"

"Um...maybe because I go to school here?"

"Evans. Really. I thought you were on Christmas break."

"Well," Lily remarked evenly. "Apparently I’m not."

"Oh," James replied, a smile slowly tugging his lips again. "Oh, I see."

Lily peeked up over her book at him. "See what?"

"Your folks kicked you out, didn’t they?"

An odd sort of buzzing noise filled Lily’s ears as she continued to gaze at James, unseeing. His statement made the horror in her life kick in again.

I love you, flower.

Hey, Tiger, want to play ball?

Help me.

I said I was sorry!

Lily smacked him.

James reeled back, shock evident on his features. He hadn’t said anything that bad.

"Actually," said Lily through gritted teeth, glaring. "I kicked them out. Go figure."

"What?"

"They’re dead."

James blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Dead. Gone. Not living. Worm food. AVADA KEDAVRA!" Lily shrieked, throwing her book down. "Get it? D-E-A-D. They...are...DEAD."

Lily, had she not been on the verge of hysteria, might have been puzzled at how white James’s face got at these words. "How?" he croaked. "How’d they die?"

"If I wanted you to know, I’d tell you," said Lily, trying to concentrate on her book and not the voice of mother asking for help...no...begging for help.

"Evans, I’m serious," James said urgently, leaning his face close to hers. "How did they die?"

He plucked at a nerve that was already stretched to a limit, stretched so tight it hurt, and Lily reacted as it sprung painfully back and forth. Her book went flying in a cloud of dust, her chair shot back, and she sped by James in a dead run away from him.

It wasn’t really from James she was fleeing, though. He’d broken the nerve, but that was it.

What Lily was avoiding were the voices in her head...the pleading voices of her parents that she’d abandoned in anger.

See, Lily was running away from herself.

* * * * *

After he’d recovered from the initial shock, James went right after Lily, undaunted. He was a determined one, and he always tried his hardest to get his way.

The long red hair, flying in its owner’s wake, was an easy target to follow, and followed it he did, through all those halls and down all the stairs, his lungs panting and his legs aching, finally leaving the building into the icy day outside.

It was like diving into the ocean on a warm spring day: the air was hot but the water was cold. His head spun and it took him a moment of using his knees for support to regain his bearings.

Lily was even easier to spot now. The hair really stood out in the snow.

She was running to the lake, and, as James watched, wincing, onto it. He prayed it wouldn’t crack, and it didn’t. It held her sturdy until she came to an abrupt stop in the center of it, where she fell to her knees.

James shook his head. This girl was insane. He’d always wanted to date a redhead, see if they were as fiery as Sirius said they were, but now he wondered if, maybe, he should dodge them.

Picking himself up, he started to jog, half-hearted, after Lily. The snow went to his knees and he felt as if he was running through his mother’s special soup.

Speaking of that, a part of his mind thought, I’m hungry.

That, of course, was Mr. Stomach speaking. He loved rumbling and turning about every few minutes to remind James of hunger.

Mr. Conscience eventually came around though, to say, firmly and sadly, Why do I have to be who I am? Now poor Lily had no parents...and, speaking of that...why Lily?

"You don’t know it was him," James told himself, breathing hard in huge puffs of white that flitted off into the sky, "it could have been a car crash. They are Muggles, after all."

But it most likely was, Mr. Conscience argued. He always strikes on Christmas. Remember? Sirius? Remus?

"Shut up," James said hotly, shaking his head in a hopeless attempt to remove Mr. Conscience.

The snow seemed to have heaped up into a mounting by the edge of the lake, and it went waist high, so he chose to tread through Lily’s holes instead of making his own, a part of him marveling her leg strength if she’d managed that.

Adrenaline, he thought, impressed. Strong. That girl would be good in the sack—

His hormonal thoughts were halted as he realized that he would now have to step on the ice to get to Lily.

James hated water. If there was one thing in the world that James Potter feared, it was water.

He shuddered and swallowed hard, feeling sick.

It didn’t break on Lily; it won’t break on you.

"But Evans is a helluva lot lighter than I am," James argued.

You owe her.

"What do I owe her for?"

She’s an orphan because of you.

"That is not necessarily true," James shot back, furrowing his brow.

Guilt was clouding his judgment. Yes, that was it. He wouldn’t be foolish and cross water that would drown him just to comfort a girl (who found pleasure in slapping him, thank you very much) whose parents had died just because they may have died because of him...

He always strikes at Christmas...

"Damn it," James snapped. "To hell with it."

He took a breath, said a quick prayer, and stepped out on the ice. It didn’t crack.

Slowly, scared, he slipped and slid across the lake to the crouched red-haired figure, all the while his mind yammering.

As he got closer, he received a fuller perception of Lily.

She knelt on the ice, head bowed and hands folded. Her hair streamed out in the tart wind behind her like some warped form of a surrender flag. She was shivering.

James had never seen her look so vulnerable, almost like a puppy lost out in a storm, cold and lonely.

She pulled at the cords of his heart like she was playing a sad tune on a harp.

He assented. He was really a big softie inside.

James slowly made his way up to Lily, trying to hold balance and be gentle at the same time on an unfamiliar turf.

"Go away, Potter," snapped Lily through chattering teeth. She turned her head so her hair shielded her entire face. 

"No, thanks," James said easily, carefully dropping to his knees next to her.

"Leave me alone."

He reached out to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Evans—"

She jerked away at his touch like he’d stabbed her. "I don’t want to talk."

"I’m tryin’ to be nice," James snapped.

* * * * *

She looked up at him. Her eyes were puffy. "Why else would you be here? You hate me."

"No, m’dear," he said with a slight smile. "Correction. You hate me."

"I don’t," she sniffed, wiping her nose with a sleeve. "You’re just incredibly annoying. Now go away." She turned away.

"Lily..." James said softly.

He saw her stiffen. "What did you call me?"

"Um...’Lily?’"

"You don’t call me ‘Lily.’ You call me ‘Evans.’"

"Well, I’m calling you ‘Lily’ now, all right?" James snapped. "Lily, I’m not joking. I’d really, really appreciate it if you could tell me how your parents died."

She snapped her head around and glared at him. "What does it matter to you?"

"I can’t say," he told her in a hushed voice. His eyes pleaded. "Please..."

Tears rose, making those green eyes shimmer in an almost supernatural way. If James hadn’t been so preoccupied with hushing Mr. Conscience, he would have noticed how beautiful she could be even when she looked terrible.

"Avada Kedavra," she whispered. 

James peered closely at her. "What?" he asked gently.

"Oh, come on, Potter," Lily snapped in a watery, thin way, wiping at the corner of her eyes. "Who uses the death curse?"

"Voldemort," he whispered, staring at her intensely. 

"It sure looked like it."

"Was there a Dark Mark?" James inquired quickly.

Lily shook her head. "I don’t know. But it was Avada Kedavra and he’d be the only one to use it."

See? What’d I say? said Mr. Conscience smugly.

A lump clogged James’s throat. When he spoke, his voice was squeaky and unlike his own. "Are you okay?"

Lily nodded, eyes flashing. "Of course I’m fine."

"You sure?"

"I’m fine," Lily insisted, crossing her arms and facing the other way again. "Go away."

"No," James said stubbornly.

Lily glared at him, opened her mouth to snap at him... But then her eyes filled with tears and sobs shook her body as she dissolved into a puddle of grief. "He killed them," she said diluted voice.

He watched her cry for a moment.

Not again, he thought miserably. How’d he know?

She looked so defenseless and lonely...not at all the feisty Lily Evans he knew.

He tentatively put an arm around her shaking shoulders, pulling her close to him.

She resisted at first, ("Don’t touch me."), but then, weak and in need of comfort, gave in and sobbed into his shirt. Her hair pressed against his face and she shuddered against him.

He felt empty and hollow now that Mr. Conscience was right. But...with Lily at such a close proximity against him...his heart was going crazy and felt warm and fuzzy.

She felt delicate but strong at the same time, and warm, even though she was freezing, and he couldn’t help by realize how much nicer she felt and smelled than Kaye.

But now was not the time to think about girls.

Or, well...girls in that context.

His mind felt grainy and rough as he came to realize it was his fault Lily was so hurt. This made him ache more than he ever would have thought.

"I’m sorry," he whispered into her hair.

Sniffling, wiping at her eyes, she pulled her head up to glance at him. "Why?"

"I can’t say..."

"Why not?" she sniffled.

"Dumbledore would kill me," he replied with a very slight smile as he leaned forward to do something he’d never done and thought he’d never do: he kissed Lily’s nose.

Her eyebrows shot up, and, if she hadn’t been crying, she might have wiped the kiss of her nose; but she didn’t. Just leaned back into his shirt as sobs took over again.

James was experiencing the strangest mixture of emotions he’d ever had: guilt, hunger, and, horribly enough, hormones or something like that.

He wanted to apologize to Lily and beg forgiveness and then run away at the same time that he wanted to go into the warmth of the school and eat at the same time as he wanted to pick Lily up and kiss her until he died.

He decided he’d try to relieve these emotions at the same time; or, at least two of them.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered sincerely, bending slightly and kissing Lily’s cheeks. They felt incredibly soft and cold and tasted salty from the tears. Lily didn’t even notice this action.

Now his heart was going bonkers. The throat in his lump got bigger.

He kissed her forehead and cheeks again, and this time Lily noticed.

"What was that?" she asked nasally.

The corners of his lips quirked slightly. "That was me being a gentleman. Because, Miss Evans, at the moment I’m fighting the strangest urge to kiss you as hard as I can, but, as it’s not quite the right time and as I’m horribly sorry about your parents, I kissed your cheeks instead."

Lily gave a watery smile. "I didn’t know you were capable of that, Potter."

"I didn’t either."

She laughed shakily. For a second, she thought she’d cried out all her tears; but then they came again, and again she used James’s shoulder as comfort.

"I’m sorry," James said softly. He could feel her tears sinking through the thin cloth of his robes.

"So am I," Lily whispered in a muffled voice.

"No," said James in a barely audible voice. He kissed her forehead again. "I’m really, really, sorry."

* * * * *

It took a while, but Lily’s tears finally quieted and she could control herself. By that time, it had grown dark and the snow had started again. It was even colder than before. 

Both she and James wore their robes and nothing more. The cotton didn’t do much against the chilled air.

With puffy eyes, Lily sat up, using a slight bunch of James’s robes to wipe the tears from her face. "It’s getting late," she said in a hushed voice, sitting back on her haunches and, realizing just how close she was to James, scooting back on the ice.

"And cold," James added, rubbing his arms. His breath came out in a huge puff of white that clouded his face, and it made Lily giggle slightly. He looked like he was smoking something.

"I’m going back in," Lily told him, pushing herself to her wobbly legs and brushing the ice off her robes. This didn’t help much as it was frozen onto the black fabric.

"And you think I’m going to stay here?" James said, eyebrows raised. "I don’t think so. I’m coming. Dinner is calling."

"I’m sure," Lily said in a distant way, eyes gazing off at the lighted Hogwarts windows. She began to make slow progress across the lake, lost in thoughts of how comforting Hogwarts now seemed, unaware that James was clinging to her arm for support.

The snow was now glazed over with an ice from the rain that had fallen before the snow that was falling now, and it crunched loudly as they trekked over the icy terrain, through their old footprints.

The steps were frozen and they slipped and slid, holding onto each other for support, up them.

Once inside the warm building, Lily seemed to suddenly notice James again. She blinked. "How come you’re still near me?"

He arched an eyebrow. "I take it you still hate me then?"

Lily smiled slightly. "Of course I do, Potter." She patted his shoulder. "But, I must admit, you’re very warm and fuzzy when you want to be... Like a teddy bear." 

Face still pale and tear-streaked, but eyes slowly regaining their old inner light, Lily made her way to the staircase with that same slight smile.

"Hey!" James cried after her, still standing in the doorway. "Take that back!"

Lily glanced around at him and laughed.

He looked like an obstinate five-year-old. His hair was mussed more than usual, and damp at the same time, his glasses were crooked, his lips were pouting, his arms were crossed over his chest and he stood glaring.

"It’s the truth."

"I am not like a teddy bear. I am strong, I am evil, I am cold, and I am not fuzzy."

"Oh, so you don’t have peach fuzz yet?" Lily asked seriously. "Don’t worry, you’ll get some someday—"

"Evans."

"Oh, come on, Potter," said Lily over her shoulder as she made her way up the marble staircase. "Take it as a compliment."

"I’m not a teddy bear."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I’m not."

Lily sighed, turning around again to shoot a glare at him. "Fine. You’re not a teddy bear."

"Thank you." He smiled and bowed. "Now I bid good day to you as dinner is calling." 

Lily stared at his retreating back for a moment, thinking, eyes glazed, before calling out to him. "Potter?"

He peeked around. "Evans?"

"Thanks."

He smiled. "No problem, Lily. And I’m sorry."

"So am I," she whispered as he disappeared from sight. "So am I."

Sighing sadly, she turned around to head up the stairs to Gryffindor tower (she didn’t much feel like eating right then), but, instead, ran straight into someone.

"Oh, sorry—" she apologized, stepping back, before she looked up to realize who she’d run into. "Oh, it’s you."

It was a snobby Slytherin named Narcissa Clever. Her blond hair was pulled back in a bun and her icy eyes glared at her down a straight, perfect nose. Her lips were set in a pout, but not the childish one James’s had been in: it was more a pout like she was eating something very sour.

Lily hated her. Narcissa always found ways of ruining Lily’s day; after all, it was her duty as a Slytherin.

"I do hope you’re not falling head-over-heels for him," said Narcissa coolly, eyebrows raised.

Lily’s own brows knitted together in confusion and amazement. "Excuse me?" she snapped. 

"James Potter," said Narcissa simply. She took a step closer to Lily. 

"What makes you think I’m falling for him—?"

"Oh, it’s obvious," snipped Narcissa snidely. "‘Oh, thank you, thank you, James, you’re my hero!’" 

Lily’s mouth fell open. Her cheeks reddened. If in embarrassment or anger, she didn’t know. "I didn’t say it like that."

"No," Narcissa agreed. "You didn’t." She smiled a twisted smile. "But your eyes did."

"What?"

"Lily Evans, you were goggling him like he was some tasty chocolate pie."

"I was not!" Lily cried. "And I don’t like chocolate pie!"

"Oh, whatever." Narcissa stabbed a finger in Lily’s face. "But my point is...I wouldn’t fall in love with Potter if I were you."

"Of course you wouldn’t," Lily snapped. "You’d fall in love with Lucius Malfoy or Severus Snape instead."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "That’s not my point."

"Then what is your point?"

"Don’t love Potter."

A month ago...actually...a day ago...Lily would have rejoiced at these words. Finally! Someone didn’t think she and James belonged together and it wasn’t out of jealousy! 

But right now Lily felt irked. It wasn’t like she loved James or anything, but now that she’d seen that he wasn’t all pervert and that he could actually be nice and sweet and prudent...she didn’t love those words so much now.

She kind of actually sort of actually...liked James a bit...or something...

No, not liked. Respected. That was it. Yeah.

Or...

Well...she didn’t know.

The point was, Lily minded Narcissa saying that for some reason, and shot back with fire.

"I’ll love who I want to love."

Padmavati would have had a field day over these words. She really, truly would have. But Lily wasn’t thinking about that then.

All she was thinking about was how sweet and nice James had been to her a few minutes before.

"Oh, for Christ’s sake, Evans!" Narcissa barked, throwing up her hands. "I’m trying to save you."

Lily started. "What? How?"

Eyes darting around wildly, Narcissa took Lily’s arm. "Not here," she whispered. "They’ll see."

"Who will?"

But Narcissa wasn’t listening. She was leading Lily up a stairway and then into a deserted classroom, where she finally looked up. "Them."

"Who?"

Again, Narcissa peered around before leaning in and saying, in a barely audible voice, "You-Know-Who."

"Voldemort?" Lily said faintly.

Narcissa nodded.

"What’s happening?" Lily asked quickly. "Narcissa..."

"Evans..." Narcissa began. "He wants Potter."

Lily looked bewildered for a reason.

Letting out a long and loud huff, Narcissa finally assented and went into a long, whispered explanation. "James Potter isn’t average. Okay? He’s a Magid. You can look that up in a dictionary. You-Know-Who wants him on his side so he can help him. James won’t have it. So You-Know-Who’s been trying to kill him, because if James isn’t on his side and on Dumbledore’s side, then You-Know-Who’s dead. But, the thing is, he can’t kill James. It’s not working. So instead of killing him, he’s torturing him so much that maybe James will kill himself."

Lily stared. This girl was wacko. "You’re insane."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "I’m not. I’m telling the truth."

"How’s he torturing him?" Lily asked skeptically.

"By hurting everyone he loves and cares for," replied Narcissa with wide, honest eyes. 

"What?" Lily whispered.

"Ever notice that his best friends are both recent orphans?"

"Yes."

Narcissa smiled wryly. "Anyone James loves or will love is getting hurt in some way. Soon it’ll be physical hurt. James’s parents are next in line, though. Ever wonder why he doesn’t go home for Christmas?"

"Just assumed it was family trouble," Lily said with a shrug.

"More than that. He doesn’t want to show he loves them."

Lily furrowed her brow. "Why are you telling me this?" 

Narcissa frowned. "Well, isn’t that obvious?"

"No."

"Lily...I’m warning you... You’re next in line. He killed your parents because he thought that James would care. Guess he was right. But next he’ll be killing you...if you stay involved with James."

"But we’re not involved," Lily snapped.

"Good. Just don’t ever get involved."

Lily’s stomach did an odd flip-flop. Narcissa started to the door. "Why are you bothering to warn me?" Lily asked softly.

Narcissa stopped. She didn’t turn around, though. "Well..."

"And how do you know this?"

"I’m a Death Eater, Evans," said Narcissa slowly. She peered around. "And I’m warning you because...well...I don’t want to be one."

"Then why don’t you get out?" Lily wondered. "Why not leave?"

"I’m afraid to die," said Narcissa simply.

"Why would you die?"

"You’re very naive, you know that, Evans?" Narcissa shook her head, blond hair shivering in the light coming through the crack in the door. "Just take my warning, all right? Don’t get involved with Potter. And if you do, remember, when you’re lying there dying with him...I tried to warn you."

Lily stared after her until she no longer could.

And then she just stood there, staring some more.