Once Lily had gotten tired of bouncing on the couch, and waiting for Megan to provide her with her alcohol, she decided to get up and get it herself. It was odd being drunk. Her feet didn’t always do what she told them to, and her brain felt foggy causing it to react slower than usual. Other than the weird feeling, so far she felt good, and prided herself in not turning out to be an annoying drunk. Like one of the girls who constantly cried, and clung onto one of their friends. She had plenty of things to cry over, but thankfully the alcohol made her forget.
Trying to navigate her way through the people, she smiled successfully when she had reached the vodka without falling over, or passing out on the floor. Taking the bottle into her hand, she wondered where exactly Remus or Megan had gone off to. She had lost track of who was guarding the alcohol, although she still had no idea as to why they were paying close attention to it.
Shrugging, she braced herself as she held the bottle to her lips to take a long swig, wincing as it went down her throat. Really, did alcohol have to be so vile? Coughing slightly, she looked at the bottle to make sure she had the right drink. Maybe it just got worse the drunker you were. The reasoning part of her brain shut off, Lily waved it off, and sat the bottle where it was sitting seconds before. Couldn’t take it away from the alcohol guards.
She was about to stumble back to the couch where James was residing when she stopped straight in her tracks due to an excruciating pain. What was that? Whimpering slightly in her intoxicated state, Lily moved to take another step, but was stopped again by the pain. This time, the source, was clear on her arm. A slash right down her forearm. How was this happening? If she was rational, she more than likely would have asked herself that. Taking another step, she writhed in pain that was ten times worse than the first time.
Things after that point were a muddled over, but she managed to whisper James’ name although she meant to scream, and then felt the hard floor beneath her. Blood so much blood.
The Last Straw- an owl from Petunia.
There was no heading to the letter, which was odd considering that most of the owls she received started with a greeting. Her name at least.
First of all, don’t think I’m writing this because I want to. I’m writing it, because if I don’t Mum’s going to have my head. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue, but it’s become one as of late.
I’m skipping the formalities, because when you left for your freak school, you became nothing to me. You’re a freak, which is why I’ve decided that you belong there with your freakish friends. Not here.
I’m writing because Vernon and I have gotten engaged, and are set to marry in February. I wouldn’t care to write, but Mum’s threatening to not pay a cent for the wedding, and we can’t have that, can we?
Nor can we have you showing up at the wedding, uninvited. This is me, not inviting you. When you chose to go to your freak school all those years ago, you made your choice. Therefore, you’re not invited. Mum and Dad might think differently, but ultimately what I say goes.
As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a sister.
Reading the letter once, and then again, the last sentence echoed harshly in her mind. Over and over again. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a sister.
That was it then, wasn’t it? Petunia, no matter how hard Lily tried, would never come around. Despite the fact that they were blood relatives, and sisters, she’d never get past the fact that Lily was a witch. She’d instead push away and forget any memories they had together growing up.
Hastily wiping the tears that had formed in her eyes, she folded the letter, and hid it somewhere in her rucksack. She’d burn it later, or trash it, maybe. Just not now. She had to get over it. Let Petunia go.
Lily had done it before. Let go of another childhood friend. It had been a different situation. It was the same, though. Snape’s words, or rather word, now also echoing in her mind, she pulled herself together, and wiped any remaining tears for her walk back to Gryffindor tower.
She knew how to forgive. She’d just have to learn to forget.
There was a time in fifth year that James had pissed Lily off to the maximum amount that she thought it was even possible for him to piss her off. It was normal for the dark haired boy to get on her nerves, but when he decided that it would be funny to tell the younger years that they had been married over holidays, she had completely lost it. How did he develop the nerve to do such a thing? Oh, right, he was James Potter.
As much as she had wanted to stomp right up to him and slap him in the face like he probably expected her to, she resisted. Lily needed to wait for the opportune moment. The moment when James Potter deserved what he would get, and wouldn’t expect it.
Throughout the day, she had dodged the many first years that had come up to her and congratulated her on the marriage. She ignored the second years that asked to see her ring, and almost punched a Slytherin who had started a rumour that she had caught James and Lily in a broom closet in a compromising position. Didn’t people have anything better to do?
That night when she sat in a corner of the common room, the redhead shot a glare at the bane of her existence who was animatedly talking to a fourth year who had asked him about his ‘wedding’ to Lily. The question hadn’t bothered her, but the way he spoke about their wedding, and told her every made up detail perturbed Lily to no end. It was like he believed every word he said!
“Yeah, the wedding was beautiful. On the countryside in Scotland. You wouldn’t believe the luck we had with the wedding.” James spoke animatedly, his hands motioning as he did so, a big smirk on his face because he knew Lily was listening. “How did I get her to admit her feelings you ask? Oh, it was easy as pie. She practically threw herself at me. Asked me to marry her right there on the spot.” James paused, to turn and meet the livid gaze of the redhead who was staring at him. “Isn’t that right Lily-flower?”
At that point Lily wasn’t even thinking straight, but she knew that she was absolutely livid. How could he make up all of the lies, and go on like they were clear, and true as day? The rest of the memory was a blur of her calling him a bloody liar, and being held back by Mary, but she particularly remembered throwing her shoe at his head, and snapping, “It’s never going to happen, Potter! We’re never going to get married! Do you want to know why? Because you’re a wanker!”
The night of their wedding, a good four years later, James presented Lily with the shoe she had thrown at him in their fifth year. The one she had all but forgotten about. It was the same exact shoe. He had kept it?
James smirked at Lily’s awestruck expression, and muttered, “Not so much of a wanker anymore am I?”