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Solace by Secret Lily
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Solace

Secret Lily

Solace

Chapter Four--One To Listen

The situation Lily shared with Michael Crouch wasn't clear. She constantly questioned herself; her actions, her thoughts, her heart. What was it that drew her to him? What was it that kept the two of them, a total and complete train wreck of a couple, together? She felt glued to him, unable to escape even if she'd wanted to.

Perhaps it was insecurity. Maybe it was actually love. Yet, Lily couldn't even imagine life without Michael. She could barely remember life before him. It was hazy and unclear, as if it didn't actually exist. Fourth year had changed everything.

The drinking, the subtle signs of abuse, the inner-battle that was tormenting him. It was all escalating so quickly, piling itself upon Lily forcefully. She was having trouble comprehending exactly why Michael was acting in such a manner. He had always been a bit aggressive, but Lily had always considered it passion. She had forgiven each and every instance without a second thought. Yet, now, something inside of her was rebelling. She needed to speak. She needed to release it all.

She had no real friends. She knew nearly everyone at the school because of Michael. He was really the popular one. She was just a sidekick, a girlfriend, a companion, a fake. So many students, so many so-called friends, but who to choose? Who was trusting enough to truly withhold her information?

It always led back to James. He seemed to be the only real friend she had. She could no longer consider herself an outcast, a fraud. She did have a friend. She had someone to confide in. She had someone to trust. She knew that if need be, James would always be there for her. It was new, refreshing even. The trouble was, how to tell him?

XXX

On a bitterly cold November morning, Lily carefully wrapped herself in a pale blue knit sweater, hugging her arms around her body for warmth. Michael hadn't shown any 'odd' behavior for the past couple of weeks, which indicated to Lily that he was most likely over whatever had been troubling him.

As she walked through the Great Hall, she felt Michael's gaze from his seat at the Slytherin table. She knew that he would probably join her in a few moments' time so, she divulged herself in a tall glass of orange juice and proceeded to open the mail that had been left for her by her owl, Dora. She wasn't one to indulge in the Daily Prophet, having been thoroughly convinced by Michael that it was all rubbish. She preferred minding her own and keeping out of the turmoil the wizarding world was facing.

After reading about the death of a fellow student a year earlier, Lily had decided for herself that the Prophet wasn't the best way to keep her spirits high. Call it superstition, but she didn't wish to jinx anything upon herself.

So, it was a rare oddity that she had received mail. She smiled a bit to herself as she gently held a neat, white envelope in her hands. As she opened it, the smell of her mother's old jasmine perfume brought back joyous recollections of the earlier days, her life before Hogwarts. It seemed so far away, so impossible to reach. She was glad that her mother refused to let her forget.

She felt Michael's quick kiss graze her cheek and his arms swiftly wrapping themselves around her waist.

"Good morning," she greeted, her eyes scanning the letter.

"Who's writing to you, love?" he asked her, his gaze dropping onto the carefully scrawled words of Mrs. Evans.

"Just my mum," Lily replied quickly, unable to see the sudden change in Michael's expression.

"You mean she still writes to you?" he inquired, his tone not only curious, but brash.

"Of course she does," Lily told him, dropping the letter and smiling. "I mean, we may have our disagreements, but she is still my mother. She just wanted to let me know that Petunia's having her wedding in February."

"Petunia? Your sister? You're not actually going to attend, are you? I mean, she's made your life hell from what I can judge," he told her.

"Well, yes, but she's my sister," she told him evenly. "I have to attend. It just wouldn't set right with me if I missed it."

His clear, bright eyes darkened hastily, his mouth thinning at her every word. She released his hold on her, standing quickly. "And I thought you understood," he muttered, his voice low and quiet. "But you don't. You're just like every other melodramatic teenager in this fucking institution."

"Wait, Michael," Lily called, unaware that he had stopped caring about her words the moment she'd mentioned her mother's letter. She watched him leave the Great Hall, unable to pinpoint exactly where she'd gone wrong.

It was only when she felt the salty taste on her lips did she realize that a small tear had trickled it's way slowly down her face. She wiped it away, in a numb state of shock and confusion.

"Evans," she heard someone say, a dark figure standing before her uncertainly. "Want to take a walk?"

She looked up, knowing exactly who it was. Those hazel eyes were not full of pity nor mock.

"We have class, James," she told him quietly, folding her letter back into the envelope.

"I didn't ask you if we had class," he told her. "I asked you if you'd like a walk."

Smiling, she nodded. "Yes, I think I would."

XXX

For the longest time, the two of them said nothing. They simply walked. They walked as far as the Hogwarts grounds would lead them. They walked around the partially frozen lake, towards the Whomping Willow, near Hagrid's cottage, until they reached the entrance to the Forbidden Forest.

Lily sent him a small, appreciative smile to signify that she understood that it was best if Michael didn't spot them. He would perceive it entirely wrong, lose his temper, and most likely cause unnecessary damage upon both of them.

She had always been cautious when walking near the Forbidden Forest, but once she was in it, she realized it was nothing more than another part of the magical community. The creatures were virtually harmless, the plants minded their own, and a dirt path was distinct and visible. The sunlight guided them. She looked over at James, who was completely and entire at ease, his hands in his pockets and his unruly hair swaying in turn with the wind.

"I know what he's going through," James told her, not needing to elaborate upon who exactly he was. "When I was a child, my parents explained to me that there were two types of wizards in the world. There were those who lived to live and those who lived to serve. Those who lived to serve could generally be classified as dark, unable to find their own path. They explained to me that those who lived to live, those who valued all that their life had to offer, worked to prevent those who lived to serve from causing a disturbance."

Lily followed, his words not only abrupt and a bit surprising, but also slightly confusing. He was speaking from a child's point of view, as if he was merely repeating what his parents had told him without hesitating to examine it. Their words were gold.

"My parents lived to live. They trained immediately out of high school to pursue their dreams. Both had identified their purpose early on. They became Aurors, working to fight those who served and perhaps still serve Voldemort. It wasn't until their boss passed that they realized that they needed to live. They married and despite my mum's age, had me. I grew up frightened, knowing all too well about the death rate in their field. I couldn't imagine life without them. If my parents were to be killed in the line of duty, my entire world would collapse. I've always wondered how I would take it. Would I move on, knowing that's what they'd want, or would I become a monster? I've dwelled on death since the age of five."

Potter, with the bluest blood of all, seemed to surprise her by the moment. His words, so compassionate and caring, didn't seem to relate to Michael in the least. He must have sensed her need for elaboration.

"I'm not excusing his behavior in any way, Lily," James told her. "He's become something so horrible, so dark, that I'm surprised you can even bear to be in his presence. But, the point is, you can. He's lucky for someone like you, whether he realizes it or not."

"James," she intervened at last. "Your words are kind and all, but if I can be honest, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"What do you mean?" he inquired. "You mean he hasn't told you? After all this time he hasn't even mentioned it?"

"Mentioned what?" she asked him, her voice cracking with worry. What hadn't he told her?

"It was in the Prophet and everything," he told her, still bemused as to how she could be kept in the dark for so long.

"I don't read the Prophet," Lily informed him, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her slightly red ears.

"The Crouch family," he began uncomfortably, not wanting to deliver news that wasn't rightfully his. "Is gone. They were killed back in July. And well, I can only interpret Michael's behavior as a direct result of such."

Killed?

"What do you mean?" she asked, frazzled. "They're all gone? All of them?"

"Well, not the entire family," James told her awkwardly. "Only Michael's mum, dad, and brother. All three worked at the Ministry for quite some time and well, it was understandable that they'd be targets, but it was so unexpected. I can't believe he didn't ask you to attend the funeral."

"He hasn't even mentioned it," Lily told James, flabbergasted. "How could he keep something like this to me? I mean, I know it's his burden, but I'm his girlfriend. You'd think he'd have enough sense to share something this horrible with me."

It all began to make sense. His drinking. She had mistaken it for attempting to drown out his past. But really, he was trying to escape his present.

"Thank you," she told James, pausing in her tracks to grab his hand.

He nodded, surprising her. He hadn't flinched when she'd placed his hand in hers.

"It all makes sense to me now," she told James quietly, more to herself than to him. She needed to get it out and now, she knew exactly who would listen. "This may not excuse his behavior, but it at least explains it. You see, James, he's been vulnerable and afraid. He was never able to say goodbye to them properly. Everything has been left unraveled. He still has loose ends to tie and now, he'll never be able to do so."

"How do you know?" James asked her, his hand still in hers.

"I feel the same way," she told him wisely. She now knew what she had to do. She needed to talk to Michael, to tell him everything. She needed to get through to him, to set limits, and to regain her dignity.

A/N: Please review. More will be answered in the following chapters.