For Camp Potter. Event: Archery (write about death). Cabin: Lestrange.
Also for Kaia for the Gift Giving Extravaganza. LilyiiScorpius. Sorry it's so late, darling!
AN: I don't know why, but ff doesn't like Lily's monologues — I can't get rid of the spaces where the words are all squashed together. Ff puts them there. They serve no writing purpose, so I'm sorry, but ignore them if you can?
SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING for suicidal thoughts and low self-esteem.
She thinks about it too often.
What it would feel like. What it would be like. How everyone else would react. If they would cry; if they would miss her.
She's fifteen and she can't escape the demons in her head. They're always there, always taunting her.
By fifteen her father had saved the world one two three times at least, and faced evil incarnate and lived one two three four times, not even counting the times he faced minions alone and not the man himself.
What have you done, Lily? What have you done to live up to that? Nothing. You are nothing. Evil Slytherin freak.
She stares off the edge of the tower and wonders if it would hurt.
Wonders if even death would stop the aching in her bones, would stop the voices in her mind.
Eventually the night air chills through her robes and she stands, descends the steps slowly. Her steady steps don't show the chaos her mind is becoming.
Can't even succeed in this. What are you good for?
She smiles so they don't try to fix her. She doesn't deserve saving.
She thinks maybe Albus is starting to notice that her smiles aren't reaching her eyes anymore but she brushes off his stares and requests for conversation because it's Al, perfect golden boy Gryffindor Al, and how is he supposed to understand? She doesn't even understand. She can't explain.
She tells them to shut up and they just laugh and laugh as she stares at her plate and eats nothing.
She feels eyes boring in to her head but when she looks up there is nothing.
oh, delusional now too?
God, as if hearing voices in her head didn't already make her delusional enough.
He sits down beside you on the couch, silver eyes piercing you like daggers.
"Go away, Scorpius."
He's Al's friend and you wonder what Albus has told him, what Al has asked of him. Wonder if Gryffindor Al has enlisted Scorpius to be his eyes in Slytherin. God, can't he just leave her alone. She's fine.
The weird thing is, he doesn't say anything else. Just sits there. Just stays.
She's growing more and more furious at him as the clock on the wall ticks out its steady beat.
—and she can't take it anymore.
"What the hell do you want, Scorpius?"
"Can't I just sit here?"
She glowers at him but he seems unaffected and eventually she sighs. "Whatever." She rolls her eyes, continuing the sketch she'd been working on before he'd sat down.
She shoves the cork back into the ink well and stands.
"Tell Albus I'm fucking fine, would you?"
And she stomps off.
She doesn't see the bewildered look in his eyes.
Hedoesn'tcareaboutyounoonecaresaboutyouyou'rejustl ilylunapotterjustthechildoftheboywholivedallyou'll everhaveissecondhandattentionandyoudon'tdeserveeve nthatyouareuselessyouareafailureyoudon'tdeservethe airyoubreathnoonecareslilynoonegivesadamn.
She sits on the edge of the tower and lets her feet dangle over the edge, listening to the demons in her mind.
It's cold, but she's done caring.
She spares a moment to wonder if death would be cold. Wonders why she doesn't believe in anything. Wonders if it would hurt.
The impact might. But, then again, from this sort of height there's no way it could take long.
It's the afterward that worries her.
Too coward to even kill yourself. Pathetic.
She pictures Al finding her at the bottom, or some innocent firstie, imagines the horror on his face — because they are not their parents, they did not grow up in a war zone, they do not see bodies.
Pictures the initial shock fading, the memory of her fading, slipping away.
How long would they remember her? How long would they force themselves to care?
She gets up. Balances on the edge for a moment, looking over. Steps down.
Her feet hit the firm floor of the tower in a way that is not reassuring.
She walks away from the tower with their voices echoing in her mind.
"Go away, Albus."
"I'm not your brother."
She looks up in surprise and meets grey eyes that are becoming oh-so-familiar.
"Go away, Scorpius," she amends, looking back down at the book in her lap.
Instead, he slides down the wall and seats himself on the floor beside her.
"You don't listen well, do you?" she asks dryly.
"You look sad. When you think no one is looking."
Surprise flashes momentarily across her face. "Non-sequitur if I've ever heard one."
"Don't change the subject, Lily."
"Oh, so you're allowed to and I'm not?"
"Your subject was pointless filler because you feel awkward sitting in silence; don't try to deny it, you know it's true. My subject was the purpose of my taking a seat."
"You sat down beside me just to tell me I look sad?"
"I told you I look sad to see if I could do anything about it."
And she looks up at him, meets those silver eyes and there is honesty there.
hedoesn'tcaredon'tbefooledhedoesn'tcareaboutyoulil ynoonecaresaboutyouandwhyshouldtheyworthlessuseles sscum
She looks back down.
"Go away, Scorpius."
After a few moments, he pushes himself up, sticks his hands in his pockets.
"If you ever need anything, Lily… you know how to find me."
He wanders away.
Youstupididioticworthlessfreaknowlookwhatyoudidyou pushedhimawayjustlikeyoupusheveryoneawaythisiswhyt heyknowbetterthantogiveadamnaboutyoulilyyou'reamon steryouruineverythingyoutouch
And she whirls around with anger sparking in her eyes. "I'm done, Al! Stop sending him after me!"
Albus's face immediately morphs into confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Albus! Scorpius. He won't leave me alone; I know you're behind it. Call him off."
Albus is shaking his head.
"Lily, I haven't told Score to do anything. You really think I could tell that stubborn prat what to do?" Albus actually laughs lightly at the though.
"He's your best friend."
"That doesn't mean he listens to me. Score does whatever the hell he wants." Al's face becomes thoughtful. "He's been talking to you?"
And she changes the subject. "What did you want, Al?"
His voice hits that low tone, the one it always hits when he's trying to be sensitive. "I've been worrying about you, Lil. Are you all right?"
She tips her chin up defiantly. "I'm fine."
"Don't give me that. The truth, please."
"God, Albus. Just leave me alone!"
And she flounces off.
Thisiswhynoonelovesyoulilywhydoyouhavetobesuchabit chlilyatleasthepretendstocarebecausehe'syourbrothe rmostpeopledon'tevenbothertopretendbuthegivesthatl ittlebitofeffortandyoutellhimtofuckoffthisiswhatyo udoyouareamonster
Her feet dangle off the edge as she wonders how long it would take them to notice she was gone. Wonders who would notice first. Wonders how long it would take to find her.
His voice is soft but it still startles her — she jumps slightly and catches herself. She turns to find him lunged forward, as though he was going to try to catch her.
"Christ, Lily, don't scare me like that," he mutters.
"What are you even doing up here, Scorpius?"
"I could ask the same of you."
"Are you, then?"
He frowns. "Am I what?"
"I suppose I am."
"I could be childish, and tell you that I asked first. But I won't." She turns back to face the grounds. Eventually, she sighs. "It's peaceful," she murmurs.
"I wanted to know where you go. All the time."
She looks back at him, startled and a little bit angry. "You followed me?"
"I think you need someone to follow you, Lily. I think maybe you need people to prove that they care. To prove that they think you're worth the effort."
"And you think you're that person? You think you care?" She stares out at the grounds again, kicking her legs a bit and feeling like a child. She isn't afraid of heights. She isn't afraid of dying.
Yes you are. That's why you haven't done it yet. You can't. You're scared.
Oh, shut up, she thinks. Mercifully, she is heard, at least for the moment.
The next time he speaks he is far closer than she is expecting. "I do care, Lily."
She doesn't turn. "No, you don't. Maybe you think you do, but you don't. No one does. Everyone just pretends. God, I'm sick of everyone pretending. I wish someone would be honest with me."
"Lily." His voice is so soft it's almost a whisper and she looks up to find him straddling the side of the tower, facing her. "I care."
And he leans forward and his breath is warm against her face but he stops, and he gives her a moment to understand his intent, a moment to pull away, if she wants to.
Then his lips are on hers and they're so soft and so warm and it is nothing she'd ever imagined. It is more.
For a while, he staves off the voices, the demons in her head. They stay away when he is present but come back twice as insistent when he leaves, until she wants to pry open her head and remove her brain in an attempt to make them stop.
He doesn't love you he doesn't care about you why would anyone care about you lily how could you even think anyone would care about you lily you're nothing you're worthless you're useless and now you're a leech, too you take and you take and you take but what do you give in return? Nothing. Nothing at all. You are a parasite you are a monster you are a snake a stinking Slytherin snake all the bad of your house nothing redeemable not like him he only pretends to care about you because he's nice and friendly and he sees how fucked up you are he pities you lily luna potter he pities you and you mistake it for love he's just being nice that's who he is that's why you don't deserve him you've never deserved him you could never deserve him you will never deserve him he deserves more better prettier smarter wiser less fucked up less useless less worthless less of a monster
She can't take it anymore. She can't take it. She's been living with their words so long and they are tearing her apart. She has tried. She has tried so many times. She is done trying.
She is fifteen years old and she is never going to amount to anything.
You could have saved me, maybe. For a while, I thought perhaps you might. I thought perhaps you could, thought perhaps you wanted to.
But in the end you were just the same: you didn't give a damn, only pretended to.
Now you have to keep pretending, because no ones likes it when you speak ill of the dead.