Consuming Shadows

Chapter 30

It was crowded in a way she had not entirely expected; this moderate sitting room they had all filed into.

The whole interior of the mansion was aged, and in some parts, almost dilapidated. But it also showed signs of effort. Sections where the thick layers of dust were missing. New pieces of furniture. A throw here, a pile of books there. Someone had worked hard to make this place appear lived in.

Lily cast her eyes around the space, uncomfortable and unsure and not knowing how to handle this. It seemed that no matter where she looked there was another painfully familiar face taunting her.

They had arrived in ones and twos – not the whole group, over half of which were still out preforming tasks and carrying out business, or simply unable to make it, Sirius had told her – and each she had met so far had greeted her with warm smiles and kind words.

It made her feel despicable.

Because she had deserted them all, had turned and fled while they had had no choice but to stay and fight for what they believed in. They had fought, bled, and even died to try and stop Voldemort. For years they had been pushed down and slowly, meticulously decimated.

And all this time she had been holed up in France, hiding.

I did it for Harry. To protect him. She thought furiously. I had to keep him safe.

Next to her, Molly Weasley sat drinking sweet smelling tea in a fine cup. The woman had offered some earlier, but Lily's stomach had been clenched tight since Sirius had met them this morning to take them here; and she knew it would rebel if she tried to force anything down.

Lily watched the kindly woman from the corner of her eye, uneasy with her presence for some unfathomable reason. She had known of Molly and her family distantly during the first war.

The Weasley's had not been actively involved with the Order at that time, not with six children all under twelve to look after. And her husband and her had been quite a few years older than Lily, well out of Hogwarts before Lily had even set foot there, so they had never had the chance to meet before Voldemort's rise.

Molly looked tired and stretched thin, with wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. However, there was a warmth to her as well; one that shone softly under her skin. She looked like a woman that was just as comfortable sitting down knitting, as she was charging into battle.

She looked like a mother, in a way Lily herself had never quite managed to achieve.

Lily turned her gaze away and forcible relaxed her hands from where they were twisting in her pants. She smoothed the material out.

There were so many of her old friends here, some she had not even known were still alive. It was hard keeping tabs on the Order from France all these years. She had taught Harry everything she could about them, their names and faces and as much about their skills as she could. But it was always unreliable because she had no way of following information about them without casting suspicion on herself and Harry.

The only one that had not approached her yet was Alastor, and part of her was glad for it. Alastor had always held so much of her respect. She was afraid of what he might say to her now.

Instead, she searched for Harry.

He was off to the side, sticking close to Bill since they had met; as well as Tonks and another boy she did not know but who had introduced himself with a cheery grin and a pleasant "Cedric. Nice to meet you."

Lily bit her lip as she watched them.

The difference in their ages, compared with the rest of the room was stark. There was a clear divide between the four youths and the worn adults.