femgenficathon | Of Heroes and Villains by petulantgod (Lilycentric

prettyclever.livejournal.com posting in

Title: Of Heroes and Villains
Author: Seph (

petulantgod)
Rating: PG13 for language, implied violence, and subject matter
Character: Lily Potter
Word Count: 1,000
Summary: She might die, but he won't. He can't. And as long as he lives, she lives. James lives. Harry is not going to die.
Warnings: character death
Author's Notes: There are new words now that excuse everybody. Give me the good old days of heroes and villains, the people you can bravo or hiss. There was a truth to them that all the slick credulity of today cannot touch. --Bette Davis (1908 - 1989), The Lonely Life (1962). Thanks to

rosesanguina for all her help and the betaread. ♥

"Go!" James hisses between clenched teeth, and she watches his nimble fingers rake through his hair. For a moment, it's as though nothing is really wrong. This is all a mistake. This is not happening. Not now. Not yet.

Not ever. It can't.

But it is happening, and as she turns her back to run upstairs to Harry, she knows she won't see James alive ever again. It doesn't really make sense though. It can't.

Her heavy feet want to plod up the stairs to the nursery, but she makes them fly. Step, step, skip-a-step... Faster, Lily, faster!

It's funny to her now how heroism seemed so easy in theory. Of course I'd die for my family, of course, of course. Of course I'd die to save my son, my husband, my country, my--

Faltering on the last step, she hears the scuffle as the front door bursts open: low voices rising in pitch, urgent mutterscreamed spells, the sizzling zap as an Unforgivable scorches the very air--

She just catches herself before she can fall. It's as though the simmering knowledge of what is happening downstairs right now is draining the life from her too.

Her hand clutches tightly to the banister, knuckles pale lavender with deoxygenated blood.

Her fingers hurt.

Something deep within her mind churns, working fast, working hard, and it's dizzying in its potential and power... But she can't seem to tap into it. It's the swift dark current beneath winter's rime. It's what she needs to win, and she can't quite get into it, can't...

FUCK. Come on, Lily, damn you, THINK!

A soft whimper from the nursery and she launches herself forward like a missile, plunging into Harry's room with her eyes already casting about wildly for weapons, for a chance, for hope, but she knows James is already dead. She knows that it's over.

If James wasn't heroic enough to save them, she won't be. She's just Lily. She pretended all her life to be something she wasn't, to be brave, and now she knows Fear and it's ugly and inevitable and it's devouring her soul and her flesh and calling out like a siren's wail to the monster who's just slain her husband.

There's nothing left but to decide how to die.

Is that it?

Is this what you think when you're about to die?

How will you die, Lily Evans? The Widow Potter. Just this moment she's become the Widow Potter.

I can't die like this. I can't die because if I die, I've failed Harry, I've failed, I've failed...

Betrayal... We're betrayed. He betrayed us. I made him a cake on his birthday and let him sleep in the nursery with my son and he's betrayed us. He burped Harry while I fastened my shirt up and he betrayed us.

Anger flashes fire-bright in her heart, melting the icy barrier between numb action and quickening mind, and suddenly she has strategies, methods--

Choices.

And this is where training and preparation fail her. No one can ever be ready for this moment, for deciding how to die, not really. She will die for Harry, but if she lives, if she hides and lets- NO. She cannot consider it. No.

NO!

Lily doesn't care about living, she cares about winning. She wants to bring Voldemort down. She wants to kill him.

Suddenly she hears his feet on the landing. The time is short.

---

"Lily, you goose, what are you doing in the pantry?" Mum asks.

Sobbing, the tiny redheaded girl throws herself into her mum's arms and clings, all the fire drained from her by her ordeal.

"Oh darling, whatever's happened?"

With trembling lips, Lily mumbles out, "I thought a burglar was here... A knife, Mum, I know you said never touch but I did cos I thought was a burglar thought he'd kill me, Mummy, thought he'd--- And I got a knife from the kitchen and I hid-"

"Listen to me, Lily," Mum says, her hands warm and firm where they cradle her daughter's face. "I will never let anyone harm you. Do you believe me?"

Lily nods, the warmth of her mother's hands thawing the terror in her little heart.

---

There's not really a choice in her mind when the door swings open. There's only one thing to do. Only one.

Harry's eyes meet hers for a moment, green on green, and she sees herself reflected there. Her child. Her blood. Her. She might die, but he won't. He can't. And as long as he lives, she lives. James lives. Harry is not going to die.

I will never let anyone harm you.

No one ever wants to kill as badly as their victim wants to live.

Take a chance.

You've got nothing to lose.

Lily bolts toward the door, throwing her body against it with a sick thud that makes the thin walls reverberate.

"No!" she screams. "NO!"

Drawing her wand as the door shatters in her face, she stands between Harry and the monster.

"You will not kill my baby," she says, and she means it. She means it with all that is inside her, and there's a lot inside Lily Evans Potter.

The monster laughs, his inhuman face warping strangely at the unaccustomed expression. He raises his wand. Yew, 13 1/2", single phoenix tail feather. Infamous.

Lily is not afraid anymore, and it's the most exhilarating feeling of her life. She aims her wand. Willow, 10 1/4", swishy, good for charms. Invincible in the hands of a mother protecting her son.

The monster speaks, but she's not listening. He offers life, but life isn't necessarily victory.

It only takes two words and a flash of green light to strip away all that made Lily Lily.

It only takes two words and a flash of green light to seal the fates of millions.

I've won.

There are things death cannot do. It isn't victory; it's a madman's mistake.

This heroism thing isn't really so hard. Not really.