ACT FOUR, chapter sixty—three :
you're not my homeland anymore
so what am i defending now?
you were my town
now i'm in exile, seeing you out

ϟ




[trigger warnings — depictions of violence + dubiously consensual kissing]

The Wizarding World was dangerous during times of war.

"Do what you can at first," Aberforth had instructed Lili, "Don't make noise. Don't make mistakes. Don't take chances."

"But if I'm there, if I'm at the very heart of it, why shouldn't I just—,"

"You will get caught, you stupid girl." He snapped back gruffly, "You're too valuable to burn out so quickly. You must be safe, you must build trust. Start small."

Start small.

Starting small meant delivering Light propaganda into Dark—occupied territories. Positive news about the fight against the Dark Lord was vital to fuel the resistance against him, especially now that many were either being kidnapped or on the run.

Lili hung off the Dark Lord's arm like the precious pet he called her, basking in his attention as he seized the chance to boast and gush of his plans and exploits, whatever they might be. She sat at his table and listened to him plot their future together, letting him stroke her face, all the while collecting information about the number and position of Dark allies round Great Britain.

Lili had never been closer to her mother in her life. Bellatrix was thrilled to finally sculpt Delphini in her own image, taking her on raids and missions, teaching her the very best curses to gain information. Her mother would never know that her daughter used these curses on the Dark Lord's own followers, torturing and Obliviating them when they became difficult.

The girl rubbed elbows with those who worked within the newly corrupted Ministry of Magic and stole secrets from their very thoughts like a bluejay, gathering information and filing away stories with details useful to The Order. She didn't readily disclose her Half—Blood status to any high—ranking loyalist she might have come in contact with, knowing it was far too dangerous to be seen as anything other than Pureblooded at a time like this.

Most days, they told her bad news.

Then again, all there was nowadays was bad news.

Snatchers were working with werewolves, prowling the countrysides in search of Blood Traitors and Mudbloods. These groups were d—mn near impossible to predict due to their anarchical and impulsive nature, and so there was no way she could devise safety measures for those fleeing.

It seemed that Macnair's efforts with the Giants had paid off. The Colony was now fully aligned with the Dark Lord, and their new orders were to raid the caves for any giants who did not agree with the new leadership. Lili didn't like implications for Hagrid, not at all.

Now that the Death Eaters had slaughtered Scrimgeour, the Dementors of Azkaban would be given a new purpose: specifically guarding the new Ministry and later — Hogwarts as well.

Worse yet, Lili heard tell of horrid experiments taking place within the once hallowed halls of the Ministry, in an attempt to 'research' how these innocent Muggle—Born wizards and witches acquired magical ability when they had no magical ancestry.

After vomiting for half an hour, Lili reported the information and got back to work.

Almost every day, Lili passed along new information to Aberforth, who in turn passed it onto The Order to defend some specific Muggle village against a raid or ensure another Muggle—Born family was safely evacuated.

Lili had no idea how Severus kept sane for so long as a spy; it was painfully lonely work. Isolating. Frightening. It was only when Aberforth taught her how to tune into Potterwatch, and she recognised the voices that she didn't feel quite so empty anymore.

She was fighting this war, but she wasn't doing it alone.

Whenever there was a new report, she would huddle near and listen close to the updates on her friends and The Order, how the other side of the war was doing.

The days felt like weeks, and the weeks like years.

Soon, the extent of her work had escalated.

Helping supporters of Harry and Dumbledore flee while Death Eaters' backs were turned, providing food with the help of Hogwarts elves, leaving gates to dungeon cells open, and providing passage between safe houses.

But she could never flee herself.

The Dark Lord was watching Lili constantly, trapping her inside a silver cage she couldn't hope to break free from. The girl wasn't seventeen, thus she still had the Trace on her, and she couldn't yet escape — they'd just come and find her, or worse, she'd lead them straight to Harry. So. She had to wait it out and try to fight quietly in the meantime.

Posters of The Boy Who Lived littered every alleyway wall and ever crooked street post, papers trembling in a biting wind. There had been no word of Harry Potter in weeks, not even on Potterwatch, not since the attack at the Weasley wedding. Some days, Lili went searching for her friends with her fellow Death Eaters. She made false leads and created fake magical trails, which was all too easy now that she was intimately familiar with Harry's magical signature.

But it wasn't enough for her.

One night, after another day of no news, Lili finally allowed herself to risk it all. Holding her breath, she pressed into the F—shaped rune on the side of her left ring finger and let the magic swell within her chest.

"Harry?" She whispered, tearful eyes squeezed closed, "Harry, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

And then: "I'm here!"

Lili burst out laughing, laughing so hard that it hurt, and it wasn't 'til tears were running down her face that she realised she was actually sobbing. Harry. Her heart sang with relief and longing and grief. Harry. His voice was the sweetest thing she'd ever heard. In her room in Malfoy Manor, she staggered over to the wall by the bank of windows and slid down to it, cupping her left hand close to her chest as if to protect it.

"Lili? Lili, are you there?"

The sound of these words were strange, soft and somehow far away, like a whisper caught in the wind.

Pressing down hard on the rune, Lili whispered back, "I'm here, too."

"How are you?" Harry instantly replied across their connection, voice harried and desperate, "Are you safe?"

She thought she heard that familiar shuddery laugh within her head. "I should be asking you that, but yes. I'm... fine. How are you?"

"I'm— yea, we're all right."

"Hermione and Ron?"

"Them too... They—They didn't believe me when I told them I'm talking to you just now, they might've thought I was going mad at first."

"Well, you are a bit," she smiled, missing this, missing how it felt to simply speak to him: no double—meanings, no underlying threats, no dangerous consequences. Simple. Easy. Effortless.

A brief pause, and then Harry responded within her mind, "Hermione says she loves you, and Ron does too... though he was more awkward in saying it."

Lili, amazingly, actually laughed. "Tell them I love them too. And I love you, Harry."

"I love you, Lili, with every part of me."

Lili squeezed her eyes tighter shut, fighting hard for some semblance of control.

"Lil? Hedwig is dead."

"I..." I know. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Yea." A pause, and then: "Were you there that night? In the sky?"

"Yes, Harry."

"I thought so... Was that you — who followed me?"

Very, very softly: "That was me."

"I wished I'd known. I wish I could've—, God! I f—cking hate this. I wish you were here, or I was there. I wish this was over, I wish it had never happened!"

The girl nodded in agreement, even knowing he couldn't see her. Obviously she agreed, what else would be said?

Harry spoke again a few seconds later, somewhat calmer, "Did you hear about Mad—Eye?"

Lili scoffed bitterly in reply, "And toasted to his death, too."

Silence for a while.

"Did you know?" Another pause before he murmured, "Did you know what Snape was gonna do?"

"No..." She cleared her throat, but it didn't work to make her voice any stronger. "He warned me something was going to happen, something that would change everything. I just never imagined..."

"No, yea, how could you have?" His voice was bitter and angry when he spat, "None of us saw it coming."

"Yea. He..." It was a secret, surely, something her father wouldn't want anyone — much less Harry — knowing, and yet she couldn't just let it lie. "He's still loyal."

"Loyal to who? Riddle?"

"No. To you."

"What? Is that what he told you? No way in hell, Lili, you can't seriously believe that."

"I do believe it, no matter how much I hate it. He's so loyal, in fact, that he followed Dumbledore's f—cking stupid orders."

"I... I don't understand."

Lili winced, having already said far more than she should have. "I can't say much, all right? The walls have eyes and ears, I don't know who's listening — if anyone at all. Just... Just trust me."

Harry sighed hard, and if she closed her eyes real tight, she could almost imagine the hot breath of it against her cheek. After a moment, he quietly asked, "Where are you?"

She swallowed hard, "I... I shouldn't say."

"Can you get out?"

"Not until I turn seventeen, 'til then I'm trapped since I've still got the Trace. But I will get out, Harry. I will find you and then we'll be together again. I promise."

If only this was a promise she could keep.

ϟ

Harry hated being cooped up at Grimmauld Place.

He didn't know what they should do next, how they should go about finding RAB's real necklace, or even who the hell RAB was, not to mention the other Horcruxes. He felt abandoned. Useless. Left to flounder by Dumbledore and Sirius and even Sn— just anyone who ever seemed to maybe give a shite.

He wandered the dark townhouse, all but abandoned nowadays, full of only shadows and cobwebs. Most of the place had been ransacked. Drawers turned out. Bedsheets stripped. Books and papers strewn across most surfaces. His first thought was that it might have been Snape — searching for details on The Order... though he rather thought Snape already had all the information he needed. After all, the b—stard had been in The Order himself, hadn't he?

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, the pain at being so betrayed — fooled so deeply — still so fresh.

D—mn Snape.

D—mn Severus Snape straight to hell, no matter what Lili said.

But... could it be possible? Could Snape really still be loyal to Dumbledore, to The Order, to Harry himself? How could he have been following Dumbledore's orders if he killed the man? None of it made sense. Then again, not much of anything Snape ever did made sense to Harry at the time. Dumbledore's actions were always much the same. And Harry didn't like to be played for a fool, by either of them.

He sighed and rubbed at his stinging eyes.

Dust, surely.

It must've been dust.

Harry wandered and wandered what should've been his home with Sirius, finding letters and photos and newspaper clippings until... he passed a dark bedroom with a name that made just too much sense. That was when Harry smirked and figured out exactly who RAB was, and what the hell they were going to do next.

ϟ

The Dark Lord's meetings were grotesque at the worst of times.

Tonight, things only got worse.

The Dark Lord prowled through the Malfoy's dining room (turned war room), silk robes trailing long after him, like ink spilling across marble.Their master appeared little more than a washed—out face above the black robes in the dim light. A massive fire was burning in one of the hearths just over Lili's shoulder. The smoke stung her eyes, and the flickering firelight danced on the walls and columns as if the whole Manor were ablaze.

Severus sat at her side, the picture of ease, raptured attention.

Lili wondered what he was feeling beneath the layers upon layers of Occlumency Shields.

Was her father feeling anything at all, anymore?

"My children..."

Lili's black gaze snapped back to the Dark Lord when he drifted back onto his throne, a self—satisfied expression marring his already hideous features.

"We have succeeded in our mission to incite fear, not just within our world but in the one that stretches beyond. You each have been merciless in your efforts, and even the filthy Muggles have managed to finally take notice. Soon, the whole world will feel the effects of our strength — especially now... Tonight, I bring you great news. The might of the Ministry has risen again, in my image."

An instantaneous cheer went up among the inner circle. The Dark Lord's snake—like lips contorted with glee, but a smile could not improve upon his unhuman features. Lili resisted the urge to close her eyes or look away. Their master allowed the cheers to linger for but a moment before he raised his pale hand. His sycophants immediately fell silent.

"It is well that you should cheer, but our work is not yet done! A New World Order is dawning. A Purer world. And first, we must... cleanse."

The Dark Lord began handing out tasks, giving orders, inciting fear even into the hearts of his own followers.

He looked round at each of his most loyal, and when his eyes landed on her, his mouth stretched into a smile much like a snake's.

"And you Delphi, my most precious," he reached out, a slender grey finger tracing along her jaw 'til it pressed into her bottom lip. "For the services you have provided me thus far, I charge you with purging the Mudbloods."

Purging.

She was going to be sick.

Severus looked away while Lili bowed her head low, brushing her lips to the back of the Dark Lord's scaled hand. "I would be most pleased, my Lord..."

Rodolphus snorted under his breath and leant towards his brother, muttering, "What more could you expect from a whore?"

The Dark Lord was not offended by this, not in the slightest, but Lili was.

The girl instantly shoved back her chair and leapt to her feet, glowering hard.

"Mind — your — tongue," Severus spat lowly, furiously, "Rodolphus."

"And why should I?" Her step—father chuckled, bemused eyes tracking from father to daughter, "All we have is evidence to the fact. Isn't that so, Goyle?"

Despite herself, Lili flinched.

Gregory Goyle was not in attendance today, no, but his father was. Goyle Senior snorted, "The way my son tells it, the little slag couldn't get her clothes off fast enough."

The girl's fist clenched at her side. "A whore."

"If not Potter's," Rodolphus mocked, "Then the Dark Lord's, surely."

Lili paled, blood rushing from her face so quickly that she felt actually faint. Yes, oh Merlin, oh God, yes. The Dark Lord's whore, he told the truth; such a title was her destiny — if this war was lost. If Harry Potter died. If the Prophecy proved true in the worst way. The room was so quiet, it was ringing in her ears.

"Oh, Delphi." Rodolphus leered. "Touched a nerve, have I?"

Rastaban chortled.

Bellatrix sang to herself, spinning a knife from the tip of her finger.

Yew slipped swiftly into Lili's palm from her sleeve, and she laid her wand onto the table between them, intentions clear.

"I'll have you pay for your words."

If she thought the room was quiet before, it was now absolutely silent.

Severus was tensed at her side, not moving a muscle, barely even breathing.

Genuinely surprised, Rodolphus cocked his head. "You wish to challenge me, girl?"

Slowly, Lili's lips spread into a smirk. "I would love nothing more."

Without another word, everyone turned to the Dark Lord for approval. The whole court held its breath. Slowly, his snake—like lips stretched into a facsimile of a smile. His long—fingered hand waved in approval. In the wake, Lili glanced quickly at her mother who didn't look at all bothered that her husband and daughter were about to duel. If anything, Bellatrix looked merely excited. Completely enthralled. Practically on the edge of her seat.

Brill.

The stage was set.

The duel would commence.

Lili ignored Draco's wide and searching eyes, and marched towards the steps when Severus' fingers suddenly clasped round her arm with a vice—grip, tight enough to bruise.

"Do not do this, Lilium."

"Let — go."

"You can still walk away," her father beseeched fervently in her ear.

Lili drew back from him, brow furrowed as if confused. "Why would I do a thing like that?"

For a full minute, he merely stared at her.

"This isn't school now, girl. This is the Dark Lord's court, this is a Death Eater you've challenged, this is a duel to the death."

Lili looked him straight in the eye and replied, "I know."

Severus let go.

Swirling off her long robe, it landed on her feet like a pool of midnight before she smoothed back her hair and stepped up onto the erected stage. Rodolphus was already waiting for her, ready and smirking and unmoving. Lili stood across from him.

The Dark Lord's voice, high—pitched and amused: "Begin."

For a moment, neither of them seemed willing to strike first. They were locked in some sort of a staring contest, each waiting for the other to flinch first. There was no rush. No hurry. They would fight when the time was right. They bowed, at least slightly, heads jerked forward, backs refusing to bend.

The whole court of Death Eaters were pressing close to the stage, watching with far too much eagerness.

"All right." Lili inhaled slowly, rolled back her shoulders, and twirled the yew wand between her fingers. "Let's go."

Then, as if by some unspoken signal, with great flourish, both raised their wands like swords before them. What followed was a fast and furious exchange of spells, lights flashing in every direction. Those closest to the stage gasped and took a collective step back to spare themselves from the display.

The duel was vicious from the start.

Rodolphus' skill was to be expected, given his magical maturity and affinity for Dark Arts. But Lili was the daughter of two Death Eaters, and she had been born for just such occasions. The girl matched him curse for curse, pressing her advantage, seeking his weaknesses.

She broke his nose and stupefied his left hand, stumbling when he set her cloak ablaze. She spun and hurled off the burning fabric, blocking his view just long enough to cast a spell she learnt from McGonagall on the beach in Duskwood, which transfigured her cloak into a poisonous serpent.

Yew wood, dragon heartstring, twelve and a quarter inches.

When it moved, destruction reigned.

"Peruro! Confringo! Sectumsempra! Incendio! Praecido, Praecido, Praecido, PRAECIDO!"

With constant twists of her wand, cavernous gashes were carved across her step—father's body, shoulder to hip. Rodolphus belted a yell and slashed back, cutting Lili across the cheek, mostly succeeding in severing a few locks of hair from her head.

"Are you going to kill me, our sweetness?" Rodolphus slurred through bloodied smiling lips, chin smeared in red.

"Oh, far worse than that, stepfather mine."

These spells were once used on her. She would pay him in kind. She Apparated out of the path of his de—boning curse, arriving like a pillar of smoke just behind him to whisper in his ear:

"Obruo sensus."

Rodolphus' vision fled him. Blinded, the wizard continued to cast this way and that, wild and unpredictable and panicked — but not a spell touched her. Lili cast a Silencing Charm on her own feet and danced across the stage in complete mystery, prowling like a panther through the darkness of his vision. She remembered her father's lessons, right before she fled Hogwarts forever, about nonverbal spells.

Hers was a silent violence.

Dodging his curses over and over and over again, she shattered his jaw with a crack, and flicking blood off her face, she tossed her wand to her left hand, few—fingered, still capable. Then she extended her right — stretching, reaching, Summoning. Oh yes. Summoning the man's very tongue. There was a garbled scream and then the bloody muscle was in her palm, still writhing, the nerves not yet caught up with the sudden detachment.

A gush of blood flooded from Rodolphus' foul mouth, fountaining forth like waves.

Sight and speech gone forever, now destined to spend eternity only listening.

Now, finally: "Expelliarmus!"

In an instant, his wand was ripped from his hand and toppled through the air, and Lili didn't even bother with catching it. She stalked towards Roldolphus' bent form, taking a moment to bask in his whimpers and panted breaths before fisting her hand into his long dark hair, yanking his head back, and whispering:

"Recrio sensus."

Even as he blinked rapidly, Rodolphus' cloudy eyes cleared and slowly focused on her face with widening pupils. She waited until his sight was fully restored to press the very tip of her yew wand to the center of his forehead. His breath caught and his eyes blazed with terror.

"For the crimes committed against me, I find myself your judge, jury, and executioner."

He couldn't speak anymore, only garbled pleas for mercy.

Lili didn't mind. Only, softly, "Legilimens."

There was only time to see the briefest flash of terrified realisation before Lili crashed into his thoughts. She took no care to be gentle as she broke through his mind with all the force of a sledgehammer. His pitiful protective shields crumbled like candy glass beneath the weight of her power. From somewhere far away, up above, she heard him screaming.

Like some razor sharp bullet, the girl bypassed every memory and thought that filled this monster's head — discarding them like so much refuse, hurling them into the abyss. She was sickened by the sights and sounds of his endless savagery, his blood—soaked ruthlessness, all imposed upon the rich background of Pureblood domesticity and gentility.

She did not care for elegance.

She cared only for destruction.

She went deeper. She wanted more. She sensed his signature the further she went, hunting it down like a bloodhound on a trail, following its metallic scent until finally, at last, at the very bottom of his being, she found the core.

The very center of a Wixen.

Pulsing with light, glorious and bright, the source from which all flowed: his magical core.

Another spell, another destruction, another whisper: "Diffindo."

The core sliced perfectly in two, immediately gushing out black light, and Rodolphus Lestrange was being destroyed from the inside out.

Even through the screaming above, Lili whispered again: "Diffindo."

Another cut, another slice, again and again and again, until there was nothing left — not even a memory of light.

Finally, Lili relented. She withdrew from his mind and released his hair, letting her step—father fall to the floor with a dull thud, where he emitted only quiet, hoarse mewls in response. He would live, yes — as a mute Muggle, forever cast out. Lili was weak and aching and sweat dripped down her spine, but she did not falter when she raised her head to look at the crowd of Death Eaters surrounding her now.

In the aftermath of such violence, there was a different kind of silence.

It was only broken by the Dark Lord's singular applause — then growing and growing and growing until the whole court of Death Eaters roared in approval and Lili was nearly deafened in congratulations for losing another shred of her humanity.

ϟ

Harry was running.

He seemed to always being running these days.

They'd sneaked into the Ministry (Polyjuiced as Ministry officials) robbed the Horcrux right off Umbridge, got chased by a horde of Dementors, and were now running for their lives as everyone from Merlin and back realised Undesirables 1, 2, and 3 were among them.

Brilliant.

Now, their Golden Quartet (minus Lili Snape and plus Mary Cattermole) sprinted into the Ministry atrium and raced toward the fireplaces. With Harry's name spreading like wildfire, they were running halfway to the fireplaces when Ron spotted none other than Percy Weasley himself striding through the Ministry. His mate slowed before stopping altogether, and for a moment, they just stared, wordlessly, at one another. Finally, Percy began to open his mouth—

But Ron spat, "Piss off."

Just then, Yaxley staggered into the atrium and bellowed, "Seal the exits! Now!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each other and then broke into a sprint for the fireplaces. As Yaxley fired his blackthorn wand at them, one fireplace after another began to seal itself shut. As they reached the last open grate, the trio pitched themselves one across the polished marble floor and went sliding inside as spells sailed over their heads.

As they were whisked away into darkness, Harry glanced back and watched Yaxley pitch himself into the void just before the metal grate dropped — like a guillotine — sealing the fireplace and plunging them all into total darkness. Harry felt his body twisting and pulling through a whirlwind while the door of Grimmauld Place rushed near, the eyes of the serpent knocker flashing in his eyes, but then there was a burst of purple light, a tortured scream, and then...

A world of sky and trees spun overhead while Harry laid breathlessly on his back on a bed of leaves and twigs. Seeming so far above, sunlight streamed through the thick canopy of trees. Well, that went brilliantly. Bloody hell. Wincing, he pushed up onto his elbows to find the locket lying in the dirt before scrabbling to grab it with a triumphant grin. Good. Another Horcrux down.

"Harry, quickly—!" Hermione's frightened voice startled him, "—In my bag, there's a small bottle labeled 'Essence of Dittany.'"

Harry whirled round to find Hermione bent over Ron's twitching and horribly mangled body. Splinched. He got Splinched. Oh God. There was blood, so much of it, and Ron was already looking pale from the loss, breaths shorter and more desperate, his eyes rolling back in his head.

At the sound of Hermione's strangled order to hurry, Harry blinked out of his horror and stumbled dizzily towards the beaded bag lying in the leaves. With a quick Accio, a small brown bottle slapped into his palm, and he looked over at Hermione ripping open Ron's blood—soaked shirt to reveal the flayed flesh of his arm underneath, like someone'd carved the skin away.

"Hermione." He was sick. "His arm—,"

"Just do it!"

Steeling himself, Harry unstoppered the bottle and — remembering what Snape (that b—stard) taught him — readily sprinkled three drops onto Ron's bleeding wound. As expected, green smoke instantly billowed off his arm.

Harry sagged with relief before shooting the girl a confused glance, "What happened? I thought we were going back to Grimmauld Place."

"We were. We were there!" Hermione cried, running shaky fingers through her loose and bushy hair, "But Yaxley had hold of me. I knew we couldn't stay once he'd seen, so when he let go I brought us here. Ron got Splinched. I'm..." Her eyes were full of tears, "Sorry."

"Don't be stupid."

When the smoke cleared, Ron's wound no longer bled.

They both breathed a sigh of relief. It was the best they could do under the circumstances. Maybe... if Lili were here... she could brew something, use one of her invented healing spells, do something — anything — better than they could to help Ron. Harry's throat hurt. When he glanced over, Hermione seemed to be thinking the same thing he was.

Suddenly, as if she couldn't bear to think about it anymore, the girl jerked to her feet, drew her wand, and walked in a wide circle while muttering a series of charms he didn't recognise, "Salvio Hexia... Protego Totalum..."

"What're you doing?"

"Protective enchantments. I don't fancy another visit like we had on Shaftesbury Avenue, do you?" She replied over her shoulder, biting her lip, wand still raised in hand, "Especially with Ron like this. You can get going on the tent..."

"Tent? Where am I supposed to find—?"

Harry stopped and glanced down at her bag in understanding.

Good ole Hermione.

ϟ

As the Dark Lord's influence grew, so did Lilium Snape's.

Since the Ministry of Magic fell to the control of the Dark Lord, all those with a Muggle—Born status were rounded up by neo—Aurors, or else being forced to go on the run. A new commission, called Muggle—Born Registration, was being put into effect, headed by none other than Dolores Umbridge herself, to interview and indeed brand them with a Mudblood Badge.

The Muggles had Adolf Hitler. The Wixen had Thomas Riddle.

Lili feared for the new Muggle—Borns, those fresh and new and excited to start Hogwarts in the fall, and she feared for the future they would have.

She did what she could.

Saved who she could save.

Over the course of the next month, Lili began smuggling in supplies and false leads while smuggling out secrets and prisoners. As more and more innocents were being slaughtered near daily, she hid, fed, and helped dozens of Muggle—Borns escape to neutral France. On those nights when she was able to sneak away from the Manor, she would cast Protective Charms over Muggle streets and shield them against lurking Death Eaters in the alleyways all without their knowledge.

From her Ministry connections, she heard that twelve more Muggle—Borns were arrested and imprisoned for the alleged crime of 'stealing magic from real wizards and witches'.

Lili had to accept that it would be too risky to stage a prison break, but the girl volunteered for shifts in Azkaban to frequently smuggle in food, blankets, and healing potions. Her hands smelt of salt for days after slipping unregistered wands within the tins of sardines and resealed jars of pickled veg. These wands, she hoped, would be enough to force open the cell doors without any suspicious interference.

Apparating was too risky, the Floo Network was suicidal, and so, following a truly shocking prison break, Lili had no way to set up an unauthorised Portkey so broom travel became essential. She organised brooms, safe houses, and fellow Wixen helpers along this underground railroad to safety.

At some point, she'd managed to smuggle in a radio to Azkaban, and from within the prison, the prisoners began transmitting to London with news of their survival and their saviour. It was round this time that Potterwatch became aware of her influence too, even if they didn't know the real identity of who was committing these acts. Like they had given codenames to each other, they gave a name to her as well.

"—Especially after all we've heard about these mysterious good deeds," it was Fred, she was sure, definitely Fred speaking on the radio that day, "I think we'll call her — and it is a her — The Unchosen One, for her daring and dastardly deeds. Whoever you are, dear lady, we love you. Even if the Ministry doesn't."

"Yes," agreed George gamely. "In case she hasn't heard, the Ministry has licensed so—called 'Snatchers' to hunt you down like everyone else they deem to be 'Undesirable'."

"Well, that wouldn't be us then, would it?" Fred countered in reply, "I mean, we've both had loads of girlfriends."

"It must be those cute little cheeks and whiskers, Rodent."

"That's right, Tentacula!"

Merlin help her, but Lili found herself actually snorting out loud.

"So, to The Unchosen One for being unjustly labelled 'Undesirable', we here at Potterwatch salute you! And to all those people who really are Undesirable..." He coughed. "Umbridge!" He coughed again, "Malfoy!"

The girl smirked to herself.

"Your time will come."

Under the guise of Lili's new codename — The Unchosen One, the Dark Lord's loyalists were soon buzzing about a wixen who was helping hundreds of Muggleborns and would—be political prisoners escape from England to the surrounding countries.

Thankfully, if anyone outside the circle of Potter supporters heard her codename, it enabled her to hide her gender from any one who heard the whispers. Not to mention, basic sexism helped. Many old Pureblood stereotyped ideas about female domesticity blinded them, early on at least, to the potential female spy in their midst.

By the middle of August, she was one of the Ministry's most wanted (and anonymous) fugitives — Undesirable No. 2, a photoless poster that promised a reward of 150,000 Galleons on her head. They had the name, but they didn't have the face. How could they expect anyone as fanatic and loyal as Delphini Riddle to be The Unchosen One?

For all her good deeds, Lili could not escape the feeling of dirtiness.

Night after night, she drowned herself in the bath, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing until her flesh was red and sore and still so impure. She couldn't erase what she'd seen, what her body had done. Most days ended with a naked, shivering Lili in the claw—foot tub, pumping in a thin stream of hot water. Her skin pruned and wrinkled as a shrivelfig. She looked at her fingers — red, puffy, broken—veined — the hands of someone thirty years older.

Tonight, like most nights, Lili turned on the radio to catch the last half of Potterwatch, with a flick of her wand and a whisper of the password.

"—Sad to report to you of the murders of Ted Tonks and—,"

Tonight Lili froze, not hearing another word. A hand clapped over her mouth and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force herself to breathe in and out and in and out and— Ted Tonks. Her uncle. Her family. A man who died before she even got to meet him. Oh Merlin. Oh God. Poor Tonks. But the radio report wasn't done yet.

"—Believe that Muggle—Born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both thought to have been travelling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news—,"

Dean. Dean Thomas.

If Potterwatch didn't know what became of him, then Lili might know exactly where he was.

The scalding bathwater sloshed wildly when she shoved herself out of it, and she dripped pools of water when she stalked swiftly from the bathroom into the bedroom. Soon she was swathed in robes blacker than night and ready for business.

It wasn't hard to get into rotation for guard duty. F—cking Peter Pettigrew was scared of her, after all. Why shouldn't he obey her every order and cower from her every threat? The girl prowled the familiar dungeons with ease and found Dean crouched low near the cell gate, face in his hands and forehead on his knees. Quite frankly, he looked like shite, and fair enough, really.

Very quietly, to not alert anyone, Lili murmured, "Hello Dean."

Her fellow Gryffindor jerked up in complete shock, almost tripping over his long legs in an effort to stand. His brown eyes found hers in the darkness, and his face pulled into an angry glower even as he backed quickly away from her. Dean pressed himself hard against the far wall of his prison cell, spitting violence from between his teeth.

"Get back! Get the f—ck back, you lying, scheming, betraying—!"

With a silent wave of her wand, the cell door swung open.

Struck silent, Dean's eyes fairly popped out of his skull. Lili arched a teasing brow but didn't say a word, at least not for the moment. Across the cell, she tossed a long robe stolen from her father and Dean scrambled to catch it, eyes still wide and locked on her face.

"Bundle up and follow me."

His dirty hands shakily obeyed, tugging the cloak around his shoulders and over his head. He followed her quickly through the winding dungeons and up the damp concrete steps into the Manor proper. Neither of them spoke while she guided him swiftly through the shadows towards the escape, holding her breath and her wand ready at every twist and turn. When they reached the final corridor, she glanced round the corner, checked both ways, and then stepped out into the open — just in time for another Death Eater to walk round the opposite corner. His cruel face instantly contorted into a snarl.

"Lestrange."

Lili froze. Hoping — no, praying — that Dean was still safely hidden round the corner.

"Nott."

When his upper lip curled, he revealed one crooked stained tooth, "What're you doing creeping round so late? I thought the Dark Lord's favourite pet had better things to do with her time than patrol."

"It's because I'm willing to do such things as patrol that I am his favourite, Nott."

Nott scoffed a low laugh and shook his head in mockery. "Now, I don't think that's quite true, is it? What other things are you willing to do to curry such favour, Lestrange? Do you do everything our Lord asks? Get on your knees? Polish his wand? Warm his bed?"

Bright—eyed and furious, Lili's wand jerked up and aimed straight between his eyes. "Say that again — I dare you."

"And what will you do, little Lestrange?"

"Did you forget what I did to Rodolphus?"

He laughed again, but at least he conceded. "You never did say what you were doing out so late...?"

"I heard strange noises. I'm investigating."

Lili felt Dean's eyes drilling into the back of her head.

"Well then." Nott bowed, cruel as ever. "Don't let me stop you... pet."

Lili's fingers clenched tighter round her wand and she didn't move 'til he was well out of sight. Then her hand dropped and she swayed, trying to force away the black spots swimming in her vision. Breathe — in, out, in, out, in, out.

"All clear?" came a whisper from behind.

"All clear," she confirmed.

The rest of the Manor was abandoned at this late hour, their escape made easy. As soon as they stepped out into the fresh air, Dean inhaled deeply and tilted his face towards the sky.

"Come on," she murmured after a moment, taking his arm and pulling him onward.

He nodded, cleared his throat, and then they were off again. They jogged through the elegant gardens of Malfoy Manor and then into the outcropping of trees that marked the forest surrounding the ancestral home. The moon was barely half—full, making their journey that much harder, the snap of broken twigs and their heavy breaths the only relief to the tense silence.

"Go to the Hog's Head and say you are 'a friend of The Unchosen One'—,"

"What?!"

"—Aberforth will know who that means." Lili continued like he hadn't spoken, whispering rapidly over her shoulder, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. "Tell him where you got taken, and that it's because Azkaban's nearly filled up. Too many Muggle—Borns are being hauled in for questioning and arrest, and we're running out of space to put them. There's talk of setting up camps round the coast of Scotland. None of them are in commission yet, but it might not be long, so—,"

"This is a trick, right?" Dean hissed with a low scoff, stumbling over a fallen log, "You can't be the real Unchosen One..." He appraised her for a moment before his voice softened, "Can you?"

Finally stopping, Lili eyed him for a long moment before nodding her chin over her right shoulder. "Just through those trees you'll find the edge of the wards. It'll alert the Manor as soon as you're through so you'd best Apparate fast, understand?"

"They'll know it's you who got me out then!"

Lili looked up, long hair falling into her face. She wore a lopsided smile and conflicted eyes, "That's why you're going to hex the shite out of me—,"

"Wait, wait—, I just..." Dean shook his head, eyes never leaving her with growing awe. "We were never really that close, why would you risk everything for me?"

"Because you're a person, and I am too. That should be enough for anyone."

A beat of silence.

Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted.

A swarm of bats flew overhead.

"Thank you." Dean rubbed hard at his running nose, clutching the cloak closer as he took a few steps towards the wards and his escape. "I'll tell them you're good, Lili, I'll convince them, I swear—,"

"Don't."

"What? Why not?"

"I need them all to distrust me. It's the only reason I'm still alive." Then she shifted into a duelling stance, rolling her shoulders back and nodding sternly. "Make it look real."

His twelfth hex knocked her out.

When she finally awoke, hours upon hours later, Lili found herself facedown at a long ebony table. Immediately, every fine hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She was not alone. Very slowly, very gingerly, she pushed herself up. The table was lined with the most prestigious of the Dark Lord's inner circle — every single eye on her.

Lili kept her face blank, controlled, indifferent. The truest test of a truly accomplished Occlumens was not only shielding dangerous memories but also forging entirely new ones, meant to redirect and trick and manipulate. Thankfully, Lili was just so accomplished. For now, the Dark Lord did not look at her, merely stroking long white fingers atop Nagini's smooth head.

Finally, she dared to speak, "My Lord?"

"Did you help that Mudblood escape his cell, pet?"

"No."

Severus stared at her. Lili refused to look at anyone but the Dark Lord.

"Did you tell that Mudblood how to bypass the wards, pet?"

"No."

Still, the Dark Lord did not look at her.

"Did you provide that Mudblood with any pertinent information, pet?"

"No."

Bellatrix hissed and cocked her wild head, "But how can we be sure?"

Now, Lili looked away, glaring hard into her mother's glinting eyes. "Look at my face. Look at my bruises, at my wounds. You think this is the face of someone who would willingly betray our Lord?"

Finally, the Dark Lord's red eyes met hers, and she barely stifled a pained gasp at the painful intrusion his mind had on hers. She made a show of lowering fake stone shields for him, never revealing that diamonds truly protected her. She conjured up a completely different scenario for the Dark Lord's perusal, an investigation into strange sounds — a chase through the woods — a brief duel between herself and that Mudblood she once knew at school. Finally, she revealed her steadfast disgust for Mudbloods, her utmost loyalty to the Dark Lord, her great affection for the man himself.

The girl had to grit her teeth to hold back her gasp this time, when his mind painfully left hers.

So, just like in her vision all those years ago, Lili sat at a long ebony table.

She was much older, much wiser. Her pale hands were folded tightly in her lap while her yew wand shook within her grasp. The lights were low, casting long shadows across her pale features. She was two seats down from a pale Lord, the one from her dreams, years and years older. Voldemort. His voice was familiar, like a half—forgotten memory; cold and high—pitched, something that sent a chill up her spine.

"My most precious pet..."

Her fingers trembled when they pressed to her upper lip, blood dripping from her nose over her fingertips.

"You will be loyal to me, and to me, alone."

"Yes," she whispered, "My Lord."

His cold clammy hand stroked down each side of her face before roughly gripping her chin, jerking her to look at the table round them. She didn't manage to bite back her faint gasp in time, her fear seeping through no matter how much she wanted to hide it.

Lili knew exactly where this was going, black eyes darting between the Dark Lord and Severus. In a moment, any second now, their master would charge her father with punishing her — just as her vision had shown her in Second Year, all those years ago. Lili knew Severus would have to use the Cruciatus on her, and she knew this just as well: her father would never recover.

In a split second, she thought of the Muggle Prime Minister and Emmeline Vance and Dumbledore when he said, 'Seeing into the future can be incredibly difficult due to the complexity of every single action and their consequences — always moving and changing'.

And then she thought of her words, in Third Year, to Trelawney herself:

'I make my own destiny.'

Yes. She certainly did.

So there, in front of her father and mother and the entire court of Death Eaters, she kissed him.

In an instant, the Dark Lord returned it. He fisted a handful of her hair and crushed her fully against him, lips and saliva and sharp teeth. It hurt. Lili didn't know kisses could hurt. Sweetness and tenderness and love was all she felt when she kissed Harry— Merlin, no, she couldn't think of him now. No, no, no, no.

The Dark Lord released a low groan that carried across the dining room, forcing the girl's head in closer, his nails digging into her scalp. The Dark Lord's forked tongue sliced through Lili's lips and plunged into her mouth. The taste of him was heady, stronger than any liquor or Firewhiskey. He tasted of blood and burnt tar and the darkest tang of magic that existed in the whole world. Lili had no choice but to submit to it — to him.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

He kissed her a long time.

Aggressively. Bitingly.

After such a rough, possessive display, the Dark Lord finally drew away with a string of saliva still connecting them. He bore that same self—satisfied smile of fanged teeth as he leant back into his throne. Numb and silent, Lili sank back into her chair, head bowed low, lips stinging as if she'd kissed ice itself.

Lili's ears were ringing. People were speaking again. Everyone had moved on. Lili was, apparently, forgiven. Forgiven and forgotten. A kiss with a monster in exchange for her father's sanity; not a terrible price to pay. But... still.

Perhaps everyone was right.

LIli's eyes darted to her hand where the words were still carved: I must not be a slut.

Something was dripping down her chin. At first, she thought it might be tears — the words 'don't cry, don't cry, don't cry' still ringing in her head. But when she reached to wipe her face, her hand came back red.

Blood.

The Dark Lord had bitten her.

She didn't look at anyone else, not until the meeting was over and everyone was dismissed, not until the Dark Lord looked at her and smiled, his red—slit eyes still on her swollen, bloodied mouth. Her nails dug into her palms 'til the skin broke. Very slowly, without speaking, she fled. There were eyes on her, appraising, leering. She could do nothing to refute their mockery now.

Severus caught up with her, for the most part, trailing her through the dark corridors of the Manor, a silent shadow. She didn't need to hear his footsteps to know her father was following her to her assigned room.

The sun was rising outside her window. A new day, full of hope and endless possibilities. What a f—cking joke. When the door closed heavily behind them, neither father nor daughter spoke. The silence echoed around them, heavy and endless, and then— Lili's shoulders gave a wild jerk outside her control, and Lili hurriedly covered her mouth, afraid she might be sick, afraid she might sob too loud.

Severus edged closer, still silent. In the pale morning light, his skin was the colour of sour milk. He looked terrible, truly wretched, eyes red—rimmed and bloodshot, hair lank and greasy. When he finally did speak, his voice was brittle, and cold.

"Why the f—?"

"He was going to make you use the Cruciatus, on me. I had a vision of it years ago."

Her head was the only part of her body that turned to look at him. His breathing had skipped and his chest had shuddered. His black eyes had gone glassy — unfocused, almost.

"I thought I could... spare you."

Severus' hands clenched into fists and he squeezed his eyes tight, "Lilium..."

"What?!"

She whirled to completely face him, head—on. Perhaps she was spoiling for a fight. Perhaps she wanted to scream at him. Perhaps she wanted him to scream at her. Her anger, her pain, was so intense, she felt actual magic crackle in the air like electricity.

"Go on! Tell me I did the wrong thing! Tell me Harry would hate me! Tell me that I'm sick, I'm twisted, I'm a stupid little sl—,"

He seemed to do the only thing he thought he could do. He hugged her. Suddenly he was there, yanking her to his chest, one of his arms wrapping tightly round her slim shoulders while his other hand cradled her cheek. Her knees felt weak and she was grateful for his strength to keep her standing. She wrapped her arms tight round his chest and refused to let go, burying her face in his shoulder while she wept.

"Did I—?" She managed through the flood. "Did I do the wrong thing?"

"There was no right thing," he whispered into her hair, voice nearly shaking with his rage.

His dark eyes, burning like hot coals, glittered with unshed tears. He'd a look on his face that she'd never seen. His Occlumency shields — usually layered meters deep, usually impossible to break through — lifted just for an instant, the barest second, in the single space between an inhale and exhale, and he allowed her this thought: I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry.

For months, ever since Dumbledore fell off that tower, there had remained a great divide between them, a massive wall neither could hope to scale, but it came tumbling down as he cradled her against him. She leant further into his chest, relying on his strength, as she counted his breaths — inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

"My brilliant little irritant, my poor clever girl..." Her father's hand moved from her cheek to the top of her head, gently stroking her hair as he whispered this confession: "I ruined your f—cking life."

ANNIE SPEAKS

ϟ

heeeey how y'all doing? this one was very gross and very grim, and i'm really sorry. i was worried to post this one, and i warned y'all is was gonna get worse before it got better, but we have a bit further to go. voldy is disgusting and horrible, and he needs to die. which will happen. eventually. still. sorry. are u guys doing okay??

side note: the vision that lili refers to i believe is in chapter 18(?) during the chamber of secrets scene

anyway, a lot happened this chapter. lili is making a name for herself as a spy. she's also in her super dark era now - goodbye rodolphus, not nice knowing ya. lili and harry finally got to talk. the golden trio are doing their usual dh duties. severus is constantly on the verge of having a mental breakdown. lili helped dean escape, oh, and trauma keeps getting worse. yay. 

CHAPTER SIXTY—FOUR :

Lili needed to find Severus. Now.

She was very nearly running through the winding halls of Malfoy Manor, heart up in her throat, very nearly choking her with every ragged breath. The vision was still playing out before her white eye, a flash of violent movement, the strike of a snake, the horrible squelch of fangs piercing flesh. It was making her sick. Severus. Her father. Oh Merlin. She had to find him, she had to make sure he was okay, she had to make sure he was safe—

my meme for this chapter:

lili is stressed out, tbh