Who: Harry and Lily What: Munching on PB&Js and talking a bit. Here's hoping they actually talk about something relevant for once XD When: Lunch time Where: The emo house of spectacular upset. Rating: Low Status: Incomplete
She raised an eyebrow. Did she love Lee? She certainly liked him an awful lot. Fancied him. Enjoyed being around him. Loved kissing him. But did she love him? "I'm not sure," Lily answered honestly. "There are very few people in this world that I can say that I definitively love. It's hard to say yet. I think that I could, though."
She thought for a moment before asking a question of her own. She didn't want it to be taken the wrong way, but...she asked regardless. "Do you love Severus?"
Do you love me? The question was still there. He knew the answer. But it was still there, lurking like an uncomfortable itch, or a parasite, he wasn't sure which could be considered worse in this scenario. Lily loved him, and he knew it 100%, but so many years...
"Yeah." It came out so easily to someone else. So why couldn't he say it to the right person. Harry thought his brain might be defective.
Harry's cheeks burned, and he busied himself with scrubbing down the counter as hard as he could.
"I know you're not all that okay with it though."
Just like he wasn't all that okay with Lee. Harry felt that his mum might have more of a reason for disapproving though. He'd love to hear her say it, just once so they could openly talk about it.
"It's not that I'm not okay with it. I just. I can't say I understand how the two of you happened to become, well, together." She pulled her hair into a ponytail, tying it tightly, shrugging.
"Has anyone ever told you about the day Snape and Remus died?" Because it was pretty important she knew a few things about it, before he up and told her that some strange bloke had told Harry Snape was gay and that he was excellent in bed. Harry couldn't dispute that fact, only ever having that type of relation with Snape, but he thought that might very well be true.
She shook her head slightly. "Not in any sort of detail at all. I heard vague recollections of it from Remus when he was here and older. Nothing concrete, though."
Harry sighed sharply and glanced toward the living room. "Come on." She'll want to be sitting for it. He hated that she couldn't remember helping him right, before he died, but maybe if he reminded her she'd recall it distantly. Remus did every so often.
He led her into the next room and curled up on one side of the couch, waiting for her to join him.
Lily followed, sitting herself on the couch next to him. She crossed her legs, looking at her son. There was something that she was missing. Something she should have known.
"Suppose you've heard of the prophecy at least, right?" If Harry knew where he'd be allowed to start this story, it'd be easier. It had to be. This was something he hadn't really ever planned on telling his mum, but she deserved to know out of everyone he knew.
Lily nodded silently. She had definitely heard of the prophecy. And more in detail since she'd gotten here. She'd been told that Severus was the one who led Voldemort to them.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment to clear his head. All he had to do was think of his life like a story, a fairytale even, so long as he could tell it all.
"Then you know I had to kill Voldemort." He shifted on the sofa so he was facing her. "I don't suppose you know what a Horcrux is?"
She was about to nod slightly before hearing the vaguely familiar word. Not one she remembered hearing, but one that she thought she should have been familiar with for some reason. "No, I'm afraid I don't."
"When you kill someone, your soul tears, there's a way you can trap you soul into an object-a Horcrux. Voldemort made seven of them. And the last one hadn't been intended." Harry let his head fall to his mother's shoulder. He hadn't told this story, ever, in its entirety. The wizarding world got the pop culture version, Snape knew without being told. Ron and Hermione had known as well, but they were no longer around him. His mum would be the first one who hadn't been there to know.
It was harder than he expected. "When I 'defeated' him that first time, the night you and dad were killed, he put a bit of his soul into me."
The scar was fading, but not for the first time, Harry felt intimately aware of it.
Lily stroked her son's hair, chewing on her bottom lip. It made perfect sense that Voldemort would tear his soul and deposit it places. The fact that he'd deposited some of it into Harry made her furious. But she was going to remain calm. "What exactly is the advantage to trapping your soul somewhere?" she asked.
"Immortality." Wasn't that what every power tripping bastard wanted? Some sort of immortality, whether by legacy or literally, Harry shuddered at the thought of eternity. He absent-mindedly rubbed his scar, the puckered flesh pulling him back to himself.
"He didn't mean to make me one." Not that it mattered. "It took me and my friends a year to find all of them. One I had accidentally destroyed when I was twelve." Another story for another time. "Another Dumbledore managed to destroy. The third Regulus Black set out to destroy but never finished." Harry worried his lower lip. "It took me until the final minute to realize I was the seventh."
She thought for a moment before asking a question of her own. She didn't want it to be taken the wrong way, but...she asked regardless. "Do you love Severus?"
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"Yeah." It came out so easily to someone else. So why couldn't he say it to the right person. Harry thought his brain might be defective.
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"I know you're not all that okay with it though."
Just like he wasn't all that okay with Lee. Harry felt that his mum might have more of a reason for disapproving though. He'd love to hear her say it, just once so they could openly talk about it.
He needed her to understand, not just know.
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He led her into the next room and curled up on one side of the couch, waiting for her to join him.
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"Then you know I had to kill Voldemort." He shifted on the sofa so he was facing her. "I don't suppose you know what a Horcrux is?"
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It was harder than he expected. "When I 'defeated' him that first time, the night you and dad were killed, he put a bit of his soul into me."
The scar was fading, but not for the first time, Harry felt intimately aware of it.
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"He didn't mean to make me one." Not that it mattered. "It took me and my friends a year to find all of them. One I had accidentally destroyed when I was twelve." Another story for another time. "Another Dumbledore managed to destroy. The third Regulus Black set out to destroy but never finished." Harry worried his lower lip. "It took me until the final minute to realize I was the seventh."
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