The life and Death of Lily Evens

Chapter 3

December 18th, 1969

The cold bite of December nipped at Lily's cheeks, but it didn't bother her much. She was too focused, sitting cross-legged beneath the old oak tree in the park, just a few feet away from Petunia. Their breaths fogged the air in front of them, mingling with the frost that coated the ground. It was a typical winter afternoon, and yet to Lily, it was anything but ordinary. Today, she had something special to show Petunia. Something bizarre.

Lily cupped her hands around a small, wilted daisy she had plucked from the frozen earth. She leaned forward, her face glowing with excitement, green eyes bright with the kind of wonder that Petunia never quite understood.

"Tuny, look!" Lily's voice was sharp but eager. She held the daisy up, concentrating hard on the stem as it began to straighten in her palm. The delicate petals unfurled and turned a healthy white, standing proudly against the cold.

But Petunia wasn't looking. She was staring at Lily's hands with a strange mixture of confusion and something else Lily couldn't place. Fear? Disgust?

"Isn't it pretty?" Lily pressed, her bluntness cutting through the silence. "I can make it grow again. It's Amazing"

Petunia's eyes widened, and she stood up suddenly, dusting the frost from her coat. "Lily, you're weird!" she snapped, her voice trembling. "Why do you always have to do strange things? I don't want to see it!"

Before Lily could say another word, Petunia had turned on her heel and was running toward the path, away from her. Her feet kicked up little clouds of snow as she disappeared into the distance, leaving Lily alone under the tree.

Lily stared after her, her excitement fading into confusion. She glanced down at the daisy in her hand. To her, it was beautiful, something that brought life to the cold. Why couldn't Tuny see that? She dropped the flower into the snow, feeling a prick of sadness at her sister's reaction. She wasn't sure why, but she always made Petunia uncomfortable. Always pushed her away somehow.

Just as she sighed and leaned back against the tree trunk, movement caught her eye. A boy-ragged, thin, and shivering-stood a few feet away, staring at her. His hair was greasy and hung in his face, and his clothes were too big for him, tattered and worn. Lily blinked and recognized him: the same boy she'd seen a couple of weeks ago in the middle of the night.

Severus.

He was standing awkwardly near the swing set, his posture stiff and uncertain. Lily tilted her head, squinting at him. He looked worse than before, his face pale and gaunt, and for a second, she didn't say anything.

"What are you doing?" she asked suddenly, bluntly, as was her nature. Her voice wasn't soft or welcoming, just curious, without much filter.

Severus jumped slightly at her question, as though he hadn't expected to be noticed. He shifted uncomfortably, his dark eyes meeting hers for a fleeting second before looking away.

"Nothing," he muttered, his voice low.

Lily wasn't satisfied with the answer. She stared at him for a moment longer, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Why do you smell like that?" she asked, her tone direct but not cruel.

Severus stiffened, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He glanced down at his worn coat, rubbing his sleeve as though he could somehow erase the smell of sweat and smoke that clung to it. "I... don't have a choice."

Lily tilted her head further, her curiosity sharpening. "Why are you always at the park?" she asked, her eyes studying him intensely.

Severus hesitated, shifting uncomfortably again. He seemed to be weighing whether or not to answer her, his lips pressing into a thin line before he spoke.