❝ he and i are closer than friends, we are enemies linked together, the same sin binds us ❞ | in which lilium snape is bound to harry potter by fate, destined to stand on either side of a war that will soon be waged. she is cursed by prophecy, or so...
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PRE—EPILOGUE, chapter seventy—two : the world was strong heaven hold us where do we go when it's all over?
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2 may 1998 — the aftermath.
This was the part that no one knew how to speak of, when the violence receded and there was left carnage.
What to do in a world made only of debris and blood?
Broken bones and bruised flesh of battle could be healed. Cursed blood and Jinxed limbs remade. Wounds turned to scars, red and permanent. None of them thought they would survive, so they had never considered what they'd do if they did. What did one do in the aftermath of a war? It was supposed to be a happy ending, yes, but really, all that remained was a question:
Now what?
Thet first night, the very first, in the wake of the whirlwind, it was like... being caught in a daze, or perhaps being in slow motion.
No one knew what to do, what to say, where to go.
Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley's eventually retreated to the Burrow, to heal and rest, and it was difficult to be separated from them, but it was for the best because Lili, Harry, and Severus took refuge in their chambers in the dungeons. Surprisingly, the dungeons were fairly undamaged in comparison to the rest of the destructed castle. The Snape's chambers looked completely untouched — as if preserved, like a museum — or a memorial of their lives before everything went to sh—t.
As it was, it was as good a place as any to collapse together.
Lili, Harry, and Severus sat in a small huddle on the floor of her childhood sitting room, each of them crying — in their own way, silent or gasping, and clinging to one another. The fire blazed in the hearth, they ate what they could stomach, and they talked when they had the strength. None of them bathed. None of them moved. Mostly, between the fits of crying and whispering, they slept quite a lot, just there — on the floor — always within reach of one another.
The world outside their door continued turning.
The grievously injured had been taken immediately to St. Mungo's while all the rest of them were treated by Madam Pomfrey — because everyone was injured in some way or another.
As soon as Voldemort died, all those who had been Imperiused had come back to themselves instantly. The poor innocents still locked away in Azkaban or in the cells in the Ministry were released nearly as quick. Surviving Death Eaters were fleeing, and most often being captured. To no one's surprise, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named temporary Minister of Magic.
He was best suited for the job, Lili thought.
A free election would happen soon, and she had very little doubt that Kingsley would be re—elected more officially.
