Something to Take Away the Pain. (Closed RP for Lily and Thomas)
((Several hours after this.))
The first thing she'd done was take a shower. She told herself it was because she'd spent the night (again) in the library, curled over books, ink from her quill staining her fingers. Yeah, even she didn't buy that, and it was her lie. Standing under the pounding spray, Lily tried to slough away the memories of the words that had been hurled, the looks, the anger that had rocked her. As the water beat down on her shoulders, Lily felt the first hot, angry, frustrated tears start to spill down her cheeks. The tears turned to sobs that shook through her body, wracking her lungs and causing Lily to curl in on herself. Sitting on the floor of the shower, forehead pressed against the tile, Lily cried until the hot water turned cold and she was shivering so hard her teeth chattered.
She didn't love him. She couldn't. Not only because it was hopeless - Lily held out no illusions that Sirius could ever return such feelings - but because she knew that her and love just did not mix. She'd had her chance with James. That had ended, and when Lily had been brought back, perhaps the unnatural circumstances had stacked the odds against her. In any case, Perry and her relationship with him had made one thing glaringly obvious. For whatever reason, Lily simply couldn't make things work. She'd had a brilliant man, someone who'd loved her, someone she had loved back, and when she'd thought about the future she had discovered they didn't have one. In fact, thinking about where she would be in five years only brought blurry, half-formed images, the vaguest inclinations of hopes that Lily honestly wasn't sure would ever materialize. The only constants were Harry and Sirius; and now the latter was something she'd have to let go of, for his own good.
That thought made her throat ache. Finally pulling herself out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her frame, Lily stood in front of her mirror and studied the reflection she found there. Face too pale, hair hanging in wet waves to her shoulders, dark circles underscoring bloodshot eyes. Lovely. Sighing heavily, she tucked her hair behind her ears and bent over the sink to wash her face, trying to still her racing thoughts. All the thoughts of Sirius were overwhelming and completely pointless. She had literally never seen him as angry as he had been in that hallway. She would be lucky if he ever spoke to her again. But he would never love her, not like that. And it was best if she just locked whatever insane impulses were making her love him away and forgot about them completely.
Several minutes later, clothed and hair dried, Lily made her way down to the Ravenclaw bar. It was too fucking quiet in her room; nothing to distract her from her own thoughts, which seemed to be stuck in a bloody loop, chasing their tails round and round her brain. Settling into a barstool, fingers wrapped around a glass of Scotch, Lily sipped slowly and tried to disconnect herself. Maybe a distraction would happen along. She thought vaguely of owling Dean, but rejected that out of hand. He'd want to talk, to ask what was wrong, and Lily had no desire to discuss it. She just wanted something to help her forget that she'd probably just lost her best mate. Who she, conveniently, was in love with. And who would never see her the same way.
She took a long drink of the liquor. Oh, her life was just going swimmingly.
The first thing she'd done was take a shower. She told herself it was because she'd spent the night (again) in the library, curled over books, ink from her quill staining her fingers. Yeah, even she didn't buy that, and it was her lie. Standing under the pounding spray, Lily tried to slough away the memories of the words that had been hurled, the looks, the anger that had rocked her. As the water beat down on her shoulders, Lily felt the first hot, angry, frustrated tears start to spill down her cheeks. The tears turned to sobs that shook through her body, wracking her lungs and causing Lily to curl in on herself. Sitting on the floor of the shower, forehead pressed against the tile, Lily cried until the hot water turned cold and she was shivering so hard her teeth chattered.
She didn't love him. She couldn't. Not only because it was hopeless - Lily held out no illusions that Sirius could ever return such feelings - but because she knew that her and love just did not mix. She'd had her chance with James. That had ended, and when Lily had been brought back, perhaps the unnatural circumstances had stacked the odds against her. In any case, Perry and her relationship with him had made one thing glaringly obvious. For whatever reason, Lily simply couldn't make things work. She'd had a brilliant man, someone who'd loved her, someone she had loved back, and when she'd thought about the future she had discovered they didn't have one. In fact, thinking about where she would be in five years only brought blurry, half-formed images, the vaguest inclinations of hopes that Lily honestly wasn't sure would ever materialize. The only constants were Harry and Sirius; and now the latter was something she'd have to let go of, for his own good.
That thought made her throat ache. Finally pulling herself out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her frame, Lily stood in front of her mirror and studied the reflection she found there. Face too pale, hair hanging in wet waves to her shoulders, dark circles underscoring bloodshot eyes. Lovely. Sighing heavily, she tucked her hair behind her ears and bent over the sink to wash her face, trying to still her racing thoughts. All the thoughts of Sirius were overwhelming and completely pointless. She had literally never seen him as angry as he had been in that hallway. She would be lucky if he ever spoke to her again. But he would never love her, not like that. And it was best if she just locked whatever insane impulses were making her love him away and forgot about them completely.
Several minutes later, clothed and hair dried, Lily made her way down to the Ravenclaw bar. It was too fucking quiet in her room; nothing to distract her from her own thoughts, which seemed to be stuck in a bloody loop, chasing their tails round and round her brain. Settling into a barstool, fingers wrapped around a glass of Scotch, Lily sipped slowly and tried to disconnect herself. Maybe a distraction would happen along. She thought vaguely of owling Dean, but rejected that out of hand. He'd want to talk, to ask what was wrong, and Lily had no desire to discuss it. She just wanted something to help her forget that she'd probably just lost her best mate. Who she, conveniently, was in love with. And who would never see her the same way.
She took a long drink of the liquor. Oh, her life was just going swimmingly.