A/N - Yes, it's here, the last chapter of Liliacea. Before you all yell at me - I know that translating this has taken me more time than it should have. Hell, I know the whole story has taken me more time than it should have. Maybe there'll be a sequel, maybe not.

kitty29 - thanks! Glad you liked it.

Quack Quack 88 - taking eight months to update doesn't qualify as "as soon as you can", does it? Sorry about that. I greatly appreciated your reviews.

RupertGurlForever - I take that as a compliment :)

Naru Taru - danke. Aber wir haben ja schon drüber geredet. Max Goldt schon gelesen?

Alex - this is an R-rated angst story with the warning "R for violence, suicide, self-abuse". Why anyone would read twelve chapters and then complain about the amount of darkness when the themes are clearly stated in the summary is completely beyond me. Thanks for your honest opinion, though, I will try to work out a better plot next time. I would also suggest that you try to be constructive - that way, writers might begin to take you more seriously.

This chapter was beta-read by DragonFire. Thank you! After all those notes, I feel so immensely thankful right now. Wonder what it would be like if there were even more people to say thank you to? That means you, dear readers :)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement intended.

Liliacea 13 - The Final Curtain

Music was playing in the leaves of the trees, the wind was tearing at her cloak, the angels sang Hallelujah, the rising sun coloured the world majestically red, the whole world vibrated in one deep breath and Justine made her first step into freedom.

Or something along those lines.

It happened on a hazy morning. The air was a blanket, not moving at all, covering everything in silence and humidity. And her freedom was no freedom, since she only returned to a place she had hated even then in all its narrowness.

She had Apparated on a field-path, a hundred metres away from the village. Just before the last turn Justine came to a halt, leaning on a wall. She could hear voices.

She should have known that there were still people on this earth, apart from Remus and her. But hearing voices after one year... hearing Mrs Andersen, her neighbour, talking to somebody only a few metres away...

That had been the advantage of her unusual hair colour - if one was always referred to as "the one with the green hair", people did not bother remembering other distinguishing marks. Now, as she had lost her most obvious trait, and as she was also dead, with grave and tombstone and everything- people were stupid, they would not recognize her, rather believe in a mistake. Still, she lowered the hood of her robe, even though the movement painfully reminded her of the good old times. But maybe she should get used to that, anyway.

She took a careful step around the corner. There were perhaps four or five people on the village street, but it seemed to Justine as if she was looking at a crowded fair. A curiosity cabinet, to be exact, for she felt that all attention was directed towards her. Oh, they did not stare directly at her, but those quick, curious glances over the shoulder - she knew those from school. She lowered her head, trying to hide her face in the hood. But still...

She hurried along the street and mused that, although her energy had been enough to lead her away from Ireland, she still did not have a destination. Not a place, not a person.

Nothing.

***

Somebody must have forgotten to take away the cordon around the church. As far as Justine could remember, the attack on the wedding had already been in the Daily Prophet a week ago. She did not complain much, however; at least this meant she had the church to herself.

The bunches of white lilies decorating the church had withered since the photos had been taken, and emitted a heavy scent that seemed to drown the mind rather than the senses. Colourful light was shining through large windows,its cheerful artifice a suggestion that nothing really belonged here - the lilies, the light, herself.

Her childhood's Jesus was still hanging on his cross. Many, many years ago he had frightened her, later he had become a silent friend. Now, he seemed further away than ever. He seemed disappointed. He had been dying on the cross for years, but he was not dying for her any longer.

She was cold, but it did not make a difference. She had always been cold. She wrapped the lent robe tighter around her body and sat down on a bench near the exit, where she perhaps would not be tempted to seek Jesus' glance, only to meet his disappointment instead.

She would have loved to stay here forever, but the little voice of reason kept telling her it was time to make a decision.

And to make it soon.

***

She remembered having spent a whole day in this church. It had been a summer day, just like today, but much, much warmer. She had sneaked away from home before breakfast and gone for a long walk through the grounds, until the heat had made any movement impossible. She had not wanted to go home yet, instead she had come here, into the cool shadows, the only peaceful place in Hogsmeade.

And then she had fallen asleep and had slept until the evening, when the sun had already been setting, and she had been freezing. Guiltily, she had walked home - a confrontation had been unavoidable, she knew. She had been eleven then.

Several people had, at some point, asked her why she slept at Hogwarts although her family lived in Hogsmeade, and they had all received different answers, depending on her mood and the degree of friendliness towards the person in question. Sometimes it had been her parents, who had been absent most of the time, sometimes the fact that the library was at Hogwarts, or a (made up) grandmother who was an ex-Ravenclaw and rather sentimental. The truth was much more banal. She had carried her books from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts and back for four years. At some point, she had run away one too many times, therefore missing lessons, until the headmaster himself had intervened.

(she wasn't eleven, she wouldn't fall asleep, she couldn't fall asleep, she would have to decide... soon...)

The sun had dipped remarkably lower -

- Justine was startled -

- where had the hours gone? -

- and it was cloudy outside, as it had been since the morning, but no, it was hot and very bright, just as many years ago, and she had just arrived here, tired from walking, and the cold wood of the benches felt icy under her hands which had absorbed the sun, as had the rest of her body. And she had just sat down here, tired, so tired...

It wasn't much, actually. Just the feeling of pebbles under her naked feet, and she knew she had finally arrived before she even opened her eyes.

The sun shone bright, a blinding white in her eyes, with the appearance of being far warmer than it actually was.

It looked like a photo, she thought abstractly, a badly overexposed photo.

She had been here before, three years - she counted them on her fingers - ago. She had been reborn here, or maybe it had only felt that she had. The sea was still there and would always be there.

She turned around.

A short moment, time frozen - blue eyes, a smile, and then - she.

Justine laughed.

And than a thought sneaked into the dream world -

Pity it was over now.

There was no coloured light now that it was evening. She appeared to have slept, and she was freezing - just like then. As if time had got the hiccups. She was no nearer to a solution now than she had been then.

The thought made it all the more important that she did something.

Justine rose and left the church.

***

Severus had been waiting in front of the house for several minutes. What, for heaven's sake, could Evans want in there? No light could be seen, a few windows were shattered, the garden had grown unkempt - this house appeared to have been deserted for at least one year.

Evans was being rather impolite, letting him wait here while she was discovering the house, even if she admittedly couldn't know she was being accompanied. Or followed. But it all benefited her safety; even if no one had bothered telling Severus why she was so bloody important.

Sometimes, Severus felt as if they did not really trust him.

Especially, Severus felt that James did not really trust him.

He stepped from one foot to the other. If only she would come out through that door, now...

The drizzle became rain.

Subtlety was one thing, but Severus did not see why he should get himself soaked while...

He stepped into the house. At once, he spotted thick layers of dust everywhere. He could make out Evans' foot traces on the stairs, as well as smaller ones, of animals, or magical beings.

Perhaps there was something in this house, after all.

Somebody screamed upstairs.

Uh oh.

He did not want to meddle with anything right now, especially not the sort of anything that preferred to settle in old, deserted houses and attack people in dark and stormy nights. Furthermore, he could not care less about Evans. On the other hand...

There was trust to regain. And Slytherins could be gentlemen, if they wanted to.

Severus stormed upstairs.

***

In the light of a DADA classroom, a Redcap tended to look pretty harmless. They never reached taller than knee-high to a witch, even if the witch was Lily, who could not exactly be called tall. They had brown skin, pointed ears and a face like teddy bears, usually viewed through a jar of preservative formaldehyde.

Add two rows of sharp teeth, six-inch-long daggers and the fact that they could move, multiply all this by three and you know what your teachers haven't told you.

Fortunately, these three did not seem to be blessed with intelligence. A frontal attack was obviously the only tactic that didn't confuse them, and thus Lily had managed to reach the end of the narrow corridor, keeping the Redcaps at distance with a wooden chair from Justine's room. They took turns in bouncing at her, reminding her of children's toys gone mad.

Her tactic wasn't any more effective, though, as the little monsters' kinetic energy alone had been enough to damage the chair. They had wounded her, too, on the upper arm, but it wasn't that bad. That was only to be expected if one tried to save the world. Now she at least looked the part.

She had to admit, though, that her goal was far away right now. She couldn't stand here forever, and these mutated toys didn't seem to get tired at all. In her next life, Lily planned to pay attention in all her DADA lessons like a good girl, so that she would know how to defend herself in situations like this.

Although, that knowledge would be pretty theoretical without a wand, anyway.

Damn it, she should really pay attention. All that was left from the chair in her hands was a broken chair-leg, the rest lying in useless pieces on the floor. She shrieked as another dagger cut through the skin on her arm, but again, her luck had been better than her defending abilities.

If she didn't think of a solution, fast... she could resort to locking herself in the bathroom and fleeing through the window, but... she didn't have a rope... and there were three toy monsters between her and the bathroom. Not her best idea.

A bolt of lightning struck near the house, bathing the corridor in harsh light.

There was somebody at the other end.

Lily was shocked enough that the next attack hit the remaining wooden stick out of her hands. She cursed loudly and dirtily.

The person near the stairs cleared his throat.

***

Justine McKinnon

1958 - 76

In actuality, she had expected a collapse, or something equally spectacular. But there was nothing. There were tombstones bearing the names of her family. There was her own tombstone, bearing her own name. But there was nothing she would have wanted to say. Maybe because the tombstone only affirmed what she had known for years.

There was only one she did not dare looking at. There was nothing she could have said. Hey, little brother, I'm sorry you never attended Hogwarts, I'm sorry you had to die, but I'm not better off. Or something like that.

Surely not.

She didn't belong here, this was the place for the happy McKinnon family that happened to have been murdered a year ago. This was the place for loving memory and things like that. Not a place for her.

Through the rain and the dark, she could see a movement outside the graveyard.

Justine pulled the hood more securely around her face and hurried to the exit.

***

Everything went silent when he said the first words. The Redcaps turned around to face him. Lily herself had her eyes fixed on Severus, even while getting down on her knees and picking up the chair leg. She looked more than surprised, but he hadn't expected anything else.

The Redcaps should have been effected, perhaps would be at any moment... he could see fear on their faces already. Fear and... resignation. He had never tried this before, so he tentatively added another few verses. Something was bound to happen - it was probably a good sign they weren't moving any more. He stopped.

The Redcaps gave the appearance of thought for a long moment.

Then they attacked Severus.

Severus searched frantically for words... it had to continue somehow...

Lily dashed towards him, striking at one of the furry beings that had attacked him. It fell to the ground.

He found the words.

The Redcaps fled down the stairs and out into the darkness. Yes, that had been the general idea.

Severus felt Evans' eyes on him. Her gaze was measuring but amused, almost mocking him.

Hey, that wasn't fair! He had just saved her life!

" I don't think this is the right place or time for a love poem, Snape," she said as she made her way past him.

Was she actually thinking her pathetic fumbling with the chair leg had scared the Redcaps into fleeing?

"Evans, I thought people like you would know about things such as this. That was the High bloody Song of Salomon!"

"The what?"

"A bible quote, Evans. Used to banish Redcaps."

"I'm an atheist and proud of it, thank you very much." Lily went down the stairs. Severus followed her. Considering the sorts of people who would be outside tonight, it seemed rather pointless to save her from the Redcaps only to let her wander around on her own.

"Where are you going?" he asked when they reached the door. Lily looked at him, surprised. She hadn't expected that.

"To the church," she said, only to see his reaction. His face showed mild desperation.

"I don't think that's a good idea... anyway, the Order of the Phoenix would like a word with you. They are up at the castle, so if you would just..."

Now Lily looked shocked.

"The Order of the Phoenix? Snape, you... you are on the good side? "

Severus concluded once again that he needed to work on his credibility.

***

"I have been wondering the same thing," a third voice said, seeming to come out of nowhere. Lily and Severus turned around in surprise.

Lily's heart made a sudden jolt upwards.

This was the woman from the station. There was no doubt. And all of a sudden, Lily wasn't convinced anymore that the pendant hadn't been visible the night before.

Severus seemed to know her as well.

"Felicia... I am surprised to see you this early."

"The surprise is on my part, Severus." Felicia Lestrange didn't seem terribly interested in him, at all.

"And you are Lily Evans." It wasn't a question. It rather sounded like an - order.

Suddenly, the whole saving the world thing seemed rather questionable to Lily. She didn't say anything.

"Severus, we won't need you tonight. Evans... you are to accompany me," she said in a voice that suggested that not following her order was a very bad idea.

Snape's ideological beliefs grew more and more shady to her as well. To be on a first name basis with someone who might be a Death Eater and to obey her that willingly didn't strike her as exactly innocent behaviour.

Felicia and she entered the church through the back entrance.

***

It was raining.

The door was open.

The door was open, and for a moment, Justine considered turning around and leaving. But - no.

She would simply go in there, do what she had to do, and that would be it.

She took a step forward. Nobody would be in there, absolutely nobody. It had happened a year ago, and the door - that could have been anybody. Maybe the same people who had smashed the window -

- the window was broken? -

vandals, -

- her window was broken? -

- drunkards, playing children, former school mates, birds doing kamikaze, Death Eaters... it could have been anybody.

Nobody was waiting in there for her. They bloody thought her dead.

Seeing her would probably convince them of the opposite, though.

She couldn't go elsewhere. Not that she wanted to stay, but... it was raining. It wouldn't be that bad if she pulled herself together.

Her family had died in this corridor. There was no trace of that anymore. No trace at all, but still - she climbed the stairs backwards, she knew how many steps there were. She had once fallen down part of them, had been fairly bruised -

("Who made you fall?" Lien had asked)

- when she finally couldn't see the corridor anymore, she dared to turn around.

Her wretched sense of drama. She had half-expected to be faced with some figure clothed in black.

No one there. And it was bloody dark.

Still two storeys to go. She didn't want to go upstairs, actually. She wanted out of here, to the rain outside, in an instant.

She would have to pass the corridor downstairs for that.

She continued climbing the stairs. Suddenly, she realized she wouldn't be able to hear an intruder at all as the rain was far too loud. Great. As if it wasn't enough that she couldn't see anything.

Having arrived in the corridor upstairs, she stepped on something. Her fingers identified it as a long wooden splinter. There were more of them.

First room to the right. At the door, she stepped on something again, and again it was a piece of wood - a wand. Her little brother's toy wand.

Justine was certain he had never laid it here.

"Lumos," she whispered.

She admitted it. She had expecting to see someone again, this time for real. Needless to say there wasn't anybody. But her room looked different from what she could remember from last time.

Blood on the walls. Blood on the floor. And people, so many people...

She stepped into the room. If only the damn thing was where it had been...

Somebody screamed. The wand fell to the ground when she pressed her hands to her ears. Her own voice.

Just an echo.

Only the frame was left from the bed. She didn't look at it. Her gaze was fixed upon the walls. The wallpaper had been torn down in stripes. Small pits of parchment and fabric lay scattered on the floor, as well as twigs and leaves and things she didn't recognize.

The walls were whispering.

They were everywhere. Black robes. Daggers. Words. And fear.

She dug her fingernails, as in reflex, into the skin of her forearms. It wasn't enough.

Where was it? In a drawer of the desk, they had passed it a hundred times without knowing.

It wasn't in there.

But it had to be.

She found it on the floor, between the bits and pieces, between the memories. The Gryffindor jewel.

She put it into a pocket of her cloak. For a while, she just stood there, unable to move and listening to the whispers.

It was cold in here. A hand touched her shoulder from behind.

***

She was shivering. The touch sent all too familiar fear through her body. And that scream, again, in her head.

Slowly, he forced her to turn around until she could see his face.

Jerome Lestrange.

The whispering got louder. The walls came closer. They were there, they were all there. All five of them. Daggers. Blood. Words. And fear.

Only he.

Only he was there. Then had been then, and now was now. Only he.

"I have been searching you for so long..."

Words. Whispers.

"And now, you have come to me."

He was too close, far too close. She would prefer the cold of the night to the warmth of his body. She didn't want to have to recognize him as a human being. Did not want to have to feel his warmth.

But this was what she wanted. This was why she was here. And he could take her where she wanted.

If he hadn't finished with her already before then.

***

She had been rather lousily tied. Surprising. Only what seemed to be a spider thread and - well - eight Death Eaters between herself and the door kept Lily from getting up and leaving.

Admittedly, it wasn't that easy after all.

She had always imagined Death eater meetings different from this. More ceremonious foot kissing, more candles, less waiting. But maybe that was because the master hadn't arrived yet.

Felicia and a few others were standing in the middle of the church and talking in low voices. Further Death Eaters were guarding the back entrances.

They were all dressed in black. Their faces were hidden beneath their hoods, so Lily couldn't recognize anybody. But no one was as tall as the man Lily had seen at the station with Felicia.

Jerome Lestrange was indeed still missing.

Lily felt strangely calm, sitting in front of the altar, calmer than she should have been under these circumstances. Calmer than she would have been, had she been in her normal frame of mind.

She was waiting.

At some point, the church door opened, and another figure clad in black entered - no, not Voldemort, she realized after a tiny second of fear, even if no one in the magical community knew what Voldemort looked like exactly - it was the man from King's Cross. Jerome Lestrange, and a second, much smaller person. Lily didn't pay much attention to her.

At least not until the figure was thrown to the ground next to her and tied to the altar in a similar way to Lily's.

It wasn't exactly bright, so Lily couldn't make out many details. Small, thin, female, the hood had slipped off slightly. Dark, short, uncombed hair and -

Justine.

It was too dark to recognize anything. A whole year had passed, a year during which she had kept recognizing Justine in passing women. It couldn't be...

It was Justine.

Lily fumbled with her ties. They were stronger than she had thought.

The girl opposite her opened her eyes, looking directly into hers, for a second.

It was Justine.

There were scars, on her hands, on her face, if you looked on them from a certain angle, very unobtrusive. There was...

A room full of blood -

"Too late..."

There was her left hand, not moving.

"Too late... Justine is dead..."

She is dead...

She was alive.

***

Justine was looking down, as if she didn't want to talk. So what. Lily believed she deserved some answers.

"Justine," she whispered, watching her shivering under the sound of her name, but no further reaction.

"Justine!"

Justine lifted her head a bit.

"Where have you been?"

A whole year, there was so much to tell, so much... and nothing to say.

"Ireland."

Silence. She had dug her hands into her pockets, as if she was hiding something in there.

"Why are you here?" Justine asked after a while.

"I don't know. To save the world. To get revenge. The usual."

"He has already won, Lily. You can't do anything." And she averted her eyes.

This wasn't enough. This was not an answer.

"Justine -"

Again, not so much as a visible reaction. Lily thought about her next words.

Tell me, Justine, was it you who killed my best friend? So, how did that sound?

Did she even want to know?

"What is it?" came the response after a while.

"Why are you here?"

Justine didn't look at her, but instead at some point behind her.

"I -" her voice cracked. Lily could hear the screeching of the heavy wooden door.

"He's coming," whispered Justine.

***

Lily analysed her emotions and came to the conclusion they didn't do the situation justice. As a woman, she should probably faint now - possibility one. As a Muggleborn, she should probably run away screaming - possibility two. As a Gryffindor, she should - well, she didn't know exactly, but it probably included the words "heroic" and "without thinking" - possibility three.

Still - a little voice inside her, one of those that probably came from some place in her subconscious, told her the Dark Lord didn't look much different from his Death Eaters. Maybe a little taller, maybe a little thinner. but those flowing black hooded cloaks didn't exactly support great optical diversity.

Was it a sacrilege, actually, not respecting one's enemies?

She supposed it was. Once more, Lily felt for the amulet beneath her pullover. It was still there.

She felt a little uneasy, but it wasn't a Death-Eaters-have-tied-me-to-an-altar kind of uneasy. Rather, it was the kind of uneasiness that occurred just when you were about to drink that glass of wine that you later found out was too much. A kind of drunkenness.

She watched the scenario for a while and came to the conclusion that her former expectations of a Death Eater meeting had been justified after all. Well, other than the candlelight.

And the foot kissing, too, was a bit on the metaphorical side of things.

But what really convinced her of Voldemort's power was that he didn't need little games like that. He merely nodded at two of his Death Eaters, and they were ready to obey his wishes.

They headed straight towards her.

This was probably the moment for acting heroically and without thinking, as she had already dismissed the former two possibilities.

On the other hand, the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting her into Hufflepuff.

Lily closed her eyes and tried recalling the incantation. Her concentration was interrupted, though, when Felicia and Jerome Lestrange freed Justine from her ties with a spell and brought her to her feet. She was brought before Voldemort.

"Justine McKinnon," he said, and for the first time, Lily heard his voice. It left the impression of a half frozen lake - icily cold, slippery and tricky - but it was human. Very surprisingly so.

They were standing a good distance away. Lily had to listen hard to understand anything.

Justine was bent over, speaking too low.

They were interrupted by the door, screeching once again. Voldemort raised his head.

"What is it?" he called, and another black-cloaked figure entered, along with yet another hostage.

"This one has been spying on us outside. He won't say anything, but I expect he's from the Order, my Lord."

A rather dazed looking James Potter was tied to the altar next to Lily. The Death Eater stared at the hostages.

"Silence," he said.

"Give me one reason to let you live," Voldemort continued his conversation. Justine hadn't moved. She didn't answer, just reached into the pocket of her cloak.

A second before it happened, Lily knew what she was going to pull out.

Justine stretched out the hand with the jewel - the glowing, blood-read Gryffindor jewel.

If Voldemort was taken by surprise, he didn't show it. He took the jewel from her.

"Where are the other two?"

James cursed under his breath.

"If I didn't know that he can't use them..." Lily began. The Death Eater guarding them was much too distracted by the jewel.

James seemed a little uneasy.

"Well, Lily, there's something you don't know yet," he responded. Lily didn't like his tone.

"You-Know-Who isn't a Pureblood. We only found out his true identity a few months ago."

"What do you mean, he isn't a Pureblood?" Lily hissed, "that'd mean..."

"Yeah. He can use it. Probably more effectively than we would ever have managed. Fortunately he can only lay his hands on one of them."

Now it was Lily's turnto feel uneasy. James seemed to notice.

"Lily, is there something you haven't told me yet?"

Lily cursed.

Meanwhile, Voldemort had finished his conversation. And he seemed to have decided against an immediate execution of Justine. She pulled the hood over her face - looking like any other bloody Death Eater - and retreated into the shadows.

Again, Voldemort didn't give an order, yet two Death Eaters were heading towards her. And this time, Lily was under the impression they really meant her.

She only had one advantage over Voldemort - she knew how to use this weapon. That is if she could trust Rowena. Which she didn't.

The benefits outweighed the risks. Lily began murmuring the words as they freed her from the ties and pulled her into a standing position.

"Lily, what are you doing?" James hissed. Then realisation dawned upon his face.

"Wait, two minutes, one minute... damn it." Lily was out of earshot. And James received a rather hard kick to his side. He looked up and into Felicia Lestrange's face.

"Silence," she said.

Lily was still murmuring the words when she finally faced Voldemort.

He had red eyes.

Where was the bloody text?

Ah yes.

Voldemort said something, but Lily didn't understand. She was too preoccupied with the heavy weight that suddenly seemed to pull on her neck. Lily took out the amulet.

The yellow Hufflepuff crystal apparently had ambitions of becoming a new sun. It was glowing, just like the red jewel in Voldemort's hands.

Voldemort seemed to understand. He, too, began uttering words, only his were much more powerful.

He would win.

The two jewels were now illuminating the whole church - the church that had been, the church that would be - as if time had become a visible dimension. Lily saw things she would never have wanted to see.

The withering wedding decoration of white lilies suddenly seemed -

- bloodstained?

She was nearing the end of the incantation. Something had to happen. It was probably a good sign that Voldemort hadn't killed her yet.

The last word - and suddenly, the yellow jewel sprang out of the setting to rise high into the air, closely followed by the red one. Their light was brighter than ever before. And in her head, Lily could hear a soft whispering, reminding her of a child that was fed up with a particular game, and the voice said -

"Never again."

The jewels vanished into thin air.

Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Justine and James were staring at her.

Lily cursed again.

The Death Eaters began to stir. They advanced on her, their wands raised, obviously waiting for their master's command.

Just one more second...

James smiled.

Wizards Apparated all over the church.

Aurors.

***

Most Death Eaters had Disapparated before they could be taken as prisoners - actually, all but one. An Auror had Stunned her before she could flee. After Barty Crouch and two others had brought her to the Ministry, there wasn't much left to do for the Aurors. They left, not without renewing the cordon, and made place for the normal Ministry officials, leaving them to put up with the onlookers and journalists.

"I assure you, by no means has a ritual sacrifice of endangered animals taken place," an official tried to explain to a platinum blonde journalist for the umpteenth time.

His hair was very red.

James led Lily away from the tumult.

"No, not even non-endangered animals," they heard when the official raised his voice exasperatedly to make himself understood in the mess.

"What is it, James?" asked Lily when they had been walking for a while.

"I thought we could talk a bit. About what you've been doing that past year, things like that," said James.

"Did the Ministry send you?"

"Mere curiosity." Her eyes thinned when she looked at him.

"Hey, just trust me. Please."

They were coming closer to that lake again. It glowed faintly turquoise - what a triumph, Rowena, thought Lily. She pulled a bit at James' sleeve, changing the direction. Away from here.

James searched the pocket of his suit.

"Cigarette?" he asked.

"Thanks, but I've quit."

They didn't say anything for a while, and kept on walking until they couldn't see the village anymore.

"It's over, Lily," he said. She didn't respond until he began to ask himself whether she had actually understood him.

"This isn't a movie. Nothing's over. The heroes aren't heroes, they don't save the world, nothing makes sense whatsoever, and..." She paused, took the cigarette from his mouth and inhaled deeply.

"...And there isn't a script. Sorry for talking so much nonsense."

James stared at the cigarette in her hands.

"Sorry, bad habit of mine."

He smiled weakly.

"Is it at least philosophically correct to say this part's over?" he asked.

"It bloody well ought to," Lily murmured. There was another long pause.

"What do you think they're going to do with Justine?" she asked at some point. James sighed.

"I have no idea," he said. There were thousands of possibilities - but Barty Crouch always managed to reduce those thousands to only one. Still, he didn't have to tell her now.

Lily glanced upwards, to the stars. Friends.

"It can't be the end," she said again.

"Why?"

"It'd be a damn lousy one."

***

Epilogue

The day had gone by, and the night had come. The night had always been there, and it would never end. Unimaginable - the sun ever rising again, in a place like this?

Her world consisted of shadows. Shadows around her, shapeless, space consuming. Shadows beyond the door, passing by, lingering on. Shadows inside.

Her world consisted of sounds, of heartbeats, the drawing of breath, dripping water. Of fingernails scratching on skin, again and again. Of the steps of those who had to supply their prison mates with nourishment or water. Often, those steps would just stop, when someone would stay behind at a corner, standing there until they were dragged back into their cell, when someone would just collapse by a corridor wall and cry, while spilling the water.

Her world consisted of a song someone sang in the next cell, one line or two at a time, only to grow silent again.

She believed she looked in the general direction of the cell door, but wasn't sure. She wasn't sure whether she had opened her eyes or not. She stared into the blackness and tried to concentrate on not thinking, for thinking drew them closer.

Her eyes were, in fact, open, for she could see movement.

Light on fabric, reflections on bars.

The sun was rising and she remembered. One thousand six hundred twenty-two sun rises in Azkaban. She got up, taking a long time for that movement, for when the swirling in her head ceased, it was almost daylight.

Standing on her toes, she could see the sea through a gap in the stone wall, and if she looked early enough, she could even see the sun, but only in winter. Now it had already escaped her narrow field of vision. The water was a steely grey, ice-floes swimming on the surface, but still -

- she felt that she was standing in the water, she could see her feet, the waves washing around them, and round pebbles on the ground below, and above her sky and clouds. It was storming, and drops of water were hitting her face, and she didn't know whether it was rain or the sea water.

She shouldn't remember...

She saw someone standing before her, no, actually not, she was still watching the waves, but someone had wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly, not letting go.

And something else was added to the sound of the water, heavy steps, rustling fabric, became louder, came closer.

She was still staring at the uncaring waves. She shouldn't remember. Not the laughing, even if it sounded distant and shrill in this place. And then...

A deep, rattling breath in front of her door.

The hands that had been holding her pushed her away now. She felt the fall, felt the water above her, felt those hands pushing her under the surface and holding her there, without effort, until she wasn't moving anymore.

It was getting close to evening when she realized she was breathing. Still. That her heart was still beating. That the woman next door tried to sing that song again.

It had gone.

Another movement, someone stopped in front of her door, obviously waiting for something. She crawled to the bars. In the fading light she could barely see his face, but she believed she knew it.

She shouldn't remember.

A hand, just as bony as hers, passed her a goblet through the bars, filled with water. She took it. Their hands touched for a second, and then he obviously realized what was wrong, tried to snatch back the goblet, but she already had it.

He had recognized her.

The water smelled foul, but everything smelled foul in here. She hadn't eaten or drunk for two days, it was making her sick. But did she really want to die with thirst?

Did she want to?

It only took a tiny movement of her left hand - the one that was still working - and the content of the goblet was spilled over the stone floor. And it only took a few seconds for her to realize what she had done, and to kneel down on the ground, licking the liquid off the raw stone floor.

The sun was setting, and it would never rise again.