Lily had always had a penchant for things that were beautiful. She had collections of butterflies, sea shells, muggle coins, necklaces, hair combs, stones, and other various things littered around her room in neat piles (for she was bit OCD and hated for anything to be out of it’s place). She was so picky, James continuously poked fun of her and Albus did it on occasion, too. She didn’t let this drag her down, however. She let it roll off her back, knowing if she rose to their taunting that it would only make it all the more worse. She thought that they were immature enough without her help. She looked out into the yard, smiling to herself as she saw Teddy chasing after Victoire. They had been married for two years, but they still acted like ten year old’s, sometimes. The seventeen year old combed a hand through her mane of red hair that fell past her waist in a curled sea of ruby waves. She figured that Teddy and Victoire were over to visit (once they stopped goofing around), and as much as she loved them, she didn’t really want to see them right now. She would rather be alone. She knew her family didn’t understand it, this need to be lone; at times, but she was an independent being with a passion for writing, photographs, and painting. Words and images consumed her and interested her much more than the people. She liked observing figures, and figuring out their motives. She didn’t always appreciate being in their presence, especially not in the case of the noxious ones that tried to suck the life out of one like one snuffs a candle. No, people like that she could especially do without. She heard her mother scolding Albus and James, and she took this opportunity to escape out the backdoor without detection. Her father was off at work, saving the world, and thus no one would notice her disappearance. At least, not for a while. She wasn’t looking forward to next month. It would be her birthday in August, then she would have to leave her best friend Cora Finnigan for Hogwarts in September. Cora was a Squib, but Lily loved her more than anyone else in the Wizarding World. The two girls were so akin to one another, that Lily thought they must have been destined to be kindred spirits for the rest of eternity. Yet even Cora couldn’t assuage her now. She had a need to be apart from anyone and everyone, and that included her soul’s sister.
Stepping nimbly upon the grass in her bare feet, Lily turned in the direction of the house. Fortunately, no one could be seen. Most likely that meant that no one could see her, either. She pushed further and further into the yard, escaping like a convict into the forest as if her home had been a prison. She ran into the forest, paying no mind to the sprigs of poison ivy that littered the forest at intervals. Fortunately for her, she wasn’t allergic. She met the babbling brook and grinned, sticking her legs into the water. She watched a salamander skidding across a rock and winced as he landed headfirst into another. However, the creature kept walking about as if nothing happened. “You are more resilient than I could ever be,” she informed the creature. Smiling fondly, she sighed heavily. She had the feeling that there was another presence. She didn’t like this feeling, at all. Not when she so desperately craved to be alone. Yet when she instinctively spun, her brown eyes couldn’t make anyone out. She narrowed her eyes to be sure, but no one could be seen. Perhaps, she was being a bit paranoid.
She shook out her red curls, gazing at the water running in the brook. She liked the way it whispered, as if it were trying to share it’s secrets with her. What clandestine memories could the waters possibly have? She sighed happily, intending on getting some writing done later, perhaps. Right now, she was enjoying the calm and tranquility of the wilderness. It was much more refreshing than sitting in a room with people discussing subjects she hardly knew anything about or cared little of. Teddy would be discussing his job as an Auror, she imagined, and Victoire would be going on and on about how she just loved being a Healer and the old woman she had saved that had been an inch from death. She had heard it all before, and she had to admit that it didn’t excite her. Then again, she had never been impressed with things that were normal. She wanted people to delve into the realms of flight and fancy. To the world of their imaginations. Yet some people were so eager to keep that world locked away and cling only to pragmatics, logic, and reality like Aunt Hermione or Uncle Percy. People like that bored her to tears.
Her father didn’t know what to do with her half the time, Ginny was distinctly annoyed by Lily’s disinterest on flying on a broomstick, and James joked that she needed to sprout the wings she so desperately craved having. Lily, however, detested the fact that none of them could accept her for what she was, an artist. Was it so hard to accept that there was more to the world than sports, facts, figures, and money? Evidently, they thought so. However, she didn’t care what she thought. She was her own person and she would do what she wanted with her life. They could not stop her from dreaming. She had been a dreamer from birth. She always would be. She couldn’t stop taking photographs, writing, or painting. Even if she wanted to. She knew that they were proud of her, they just wanted her to be more like them. That was something she didn’t know if she could ever achieve. They would just have to accept her the way she was. Not that they didn’t try, she knew they did, but they would have to try all the more harder, was all.
She sat back, her chatoyant brown eyes gazing at the trees that stretched their leafy arms out. Smiling faintly, she couldn’t help but wonder what they were reaching for. Sometimes, she thought it might be their way of trying to say they were alive, but Albus would irritably tell her that trees couldn’t speak. Well, in Tolkien’s world they did, and they would in hers, too. She
listened to the birds as they tittered jubilantly about Merlin knew what. She liked to think they were telling each other stories, but Rose insisted that was absurd. Yet what did Rose know? Birds were intelligent. Surely, they were saying something of importance. At least, to them. She wished she could understand their knowledge and their language. She would love to be able to convey information to them, and learn from them if she could. Instead, she would content herself with listening to them. Anon, perhaps, she’d bask in the fruit of such knowledge. For now, however, she was blissful enough to imagine the stories they might tell one another. Some of them mundane, others humorous, and some sad. Just like humans, she was sure that they all had some sort of thing to tell one another if not the world. It was a pity that the humans had not a clue of anything they may be saying.
Lost in thought, she reclined backward, pressing her palms into the firm soil that has few sprigs of grass interwoven with last autumn’s leaves. She wished that somehow she could understand all of the animals and become acquainted with all the wisdom they may have amassed over the years. She was certain that they thought about more than food, water, mating, and their offspring. Frowning faintly, she tilted her head to the heavens. She wondered why people didn’t think that animals thought of anything intelligible. Observing some of the humans on this planet, she wouldn’t quite call them intelligent, either. Surely, there were animals that weren’t quite as mundane as people painted them out to be. Speaking of painting, she had to finish that painting that she was going to give to Scorpius and Dominique as a wedding present. It was only a few months away, but she had most of it finished. Thank Merlin for that. She hated deadlines. She liked working and creating, but on her own time. She hoped that they liked it. Ginny said that, of course, they would; Albus insisted that her shadows were improperly placed, James would complain that paintings were boring, and Harry told her that she should paint it any way she wished and persisted he knew nothing of art. She smiled ruefully. It was nice to have such a large family as hers to fall back upon when she grew lonely. There was bound to be someone to talk to. She preferred Dominique, Fred II, Victoire, and Lucy. They were all more human to talk to, and kinder than some of her other cousins. Which was ironic in the cases of Dom and Vic since most people associated halfbreeds with snobbishness. No, they were kind and the least stuck-up people that she knew.
Especially Lucy. She thought that Lucy just might be her favorite. Lucy was a Squib, but wasn’t bitter about it. She was humble and meek, and quite the sweetheart. Sure, her life was likely complicated and hard being from a prominent family like the Weasley’s but Dominique and Victoire would never let dear Lucy feel left out. Lily could only hope to be as strong as Lucy one day. She was resilient and kind, never having an angry word for anyone, and she spared nothing for herself if she knew someone needed it. Lucy was practically a saint, and got on well with Cora. That was another reason that Lily was fond of Lucy.
As her thoughts meandered about the people of whom she loved, she didn’t realize that the darkness was swimming closer to the day, threatening to overwhelm it in it’s tide of inky black. Instead, she only noticed that she was content in sitting here. She pulled her leg from the brook’s waters, and instead backed up so that she could lay down. Laying on her stomach she reached one hand into the water, to feel the cool freshness of the water upon her palms and fingertips.
Lysander watched Lily from the shadows, not daring to draw closer to Lily. He knew that his brother Lorcan tortured poor Lucy, and spoke in a mannerism that made most curl their nose in annoyance. He also knew, however, that his brother often gave him a bad name for most assumed that he would be exactly like his twin. This wasn’t the case, in the least, though, he doubted he would get a chance to explain that to anyone.
The twelve year old knew that Lucy thought that Lorcan was a jerk, so that made him a jerk in return. It was annoying, but he could understand that most people thought twins were alike. Take the Weasley twins for example, but he wished people wouldn’t assume that he was like Lorcan. He was far more mature!
He felt a bit creepy to be watching Lily like this, but he had always admired her, even if she would never love him in return. He was a boy and she was a woman, but that didn’t mean that made him like her any less.
Though, he surmised this crush would pass.
Lily looked up, sighing as she was torn from her reverie. She knew that she had to help the boy return home. “Lysander, what are you doing here?” she asked. “I’m sure your mother is worried sick about you.” She slowly leaned upward unto her knees and more slowly stood to her feet. Now, she noted that the stars were littered in the sky and that darkness had descended upon them. She knew that this would mean she should get home, as well. However, she would take Lysander home first. He looked put out and hurt when she insisted upon holding his hand, but he was still a little boy. She couldn’t have him getting hurt. She nodded to Luna’s thanks when the boy was returned safely home, explaining she couldn’t stay long.
She apparated home after the forced milk and cookies from ‘Aunt’ Luna. She apparated into the living room, nearly ending up on Victoire’s lap. Victoire laughed, budging over, whilst Lily blushed a deep shade of crimson.
“Where have you been?” Harry asked.
“Avoiding people,” Lily muttered.
“That’s ironic,” Victoire said, with a small giggle issuing from her lips. Lily blushed, shrugging faintly, as she found a seat beside James. “We have news to share with you all, but we’ve been waiting for you, Lils.”
Lily beamed. “That’s wonderful, Victoire,” she smiled. Maybe, just maybe, being around people every once in a while wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.
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