❝She wore her scars as her best attire, a stunning dress of hellfire.❞
In a world where children are orphaned by dark wizards and destinies are bestowed upon the most unlikely of people, Lily Potter II must choose between what is good and what is ri...
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TWO DAYS LATER, Lily and the Weasleys were surprised to discover Christmas was just around the corner. This news jabbed at Lily's heart as this would be her first Christmas outside of Hogwarts and without her brother and best friends.... But considering everything that was going on from Tonk's due date nearing, George being kidnapped by the Dark Lord, Ron's departure from Harry and Hermione and Fred's state of mind, festivities were far from Lily's mind.
The morning was a chilly one. The heavy rainfall from the previous storm had turned to block ice which froze the dirt and frosted over the Weasley house. Lily brushed a few icicles off of the roof of the chicken coop with the sleeve of her knitted sweater as she strolled over to the small stream just a few yards away. When she sat down, a few garden gnomes fled the area, muttering something about her interrupting them. The stream was only about two feet wide, filled with shiny rocks and broken stones, but the water that ran through it was crystal clear. Mrs. Weasley often liked using it to water the chickens. This morning, Lily volunteered to do it seeing as the woman was in no state to do anything, but the task slipped from her mind as she allowed the nature around her to consume her.
Everything seemed to be falling apart. Severus' betrayal still stung every time she recalled it to piece the pieces together, trying to make sense of things. The harsh reality that Harry, Hermione and Ron were no longer a team hit her as the wet dirt digging beneath her fingernails sent a chill down her back. Draco and George were in the clutches of the Dark Lord, their fates were being toyed with as Voldemort moved them through the game of war. A necessary casualty – that's what Kingsley Shacklebolt had to say in regards to Draco, who also dubbed George as an unfortunate loss to the Order. Lily wanted to cry and punch him right in the fucking face at the same time.
She couldn't figure out who she was most furious at: the Dark Lord for starting this war of power...Severus for being a treacherous slag...Dumbledore for leaving her and Harry to carry the weight of the world...Kingsley for being an insensitive ass...Or maybe George, for being too stupidly heroic for his own damn good. She wanted to shed the blood of every Deatheater that had taken an innocent life; she wanted them to feel their insides writhe with the emotional pain of losing a child, a sibling, a parent and a friend. She wanted to see all of them burn.
A chilling laugh echoed in her ears, almost as if it were traveling in the frosty breeze. She was entirely aware of her surroundings; the wet dirt in her palms and the soothing dripping of the stream, but amid this serenity she found herself present in the reality of another, a reality that sent stabs in her heart but relief through her veins at the same time. The scene was hazy and the voice was unclear, but....
"Finally," rasped the deep voice of George Weasley. He was hunched over on his hands and knees, staring into a rippling puddle of murky water leaking from a rusted pipe. In the week that he had been captured, purple circles had formed around his blue eyes and his skin was waxy from lack of food and sunlight, "I started to wonder if I had gone mad."
