Saving Myself || A Drarry Story

LVII: Never His Style

Saturday's had always been Lily Potter's favourite days; she would begin with a long, hot bath, soaking her slim and proper body in soaps and creams. Her husband would come in and give her a quick kiss on her forehead, smelling of aftershave and expensive cologne from Knockturn Alley that she didn't really care for. But there was no James Potter to come and do that anymore: he was a wanted man.

Lily was usually out of the water before it turned luke-warm, but this Saturday, she soaked until her fingers we're pruned and the water had long since lost its warmth. She drained the cold water as she turned on the faucet, thinking of when Harry, her sole son, her only child, had been younger.

When he was young, only three or four, he hardly left his mothers side. Lily would already be in her bath, soap suds piling over her naked body when Harry would toddle in, one of his beginner's books in his hands and his glasses perched on his nose.

He would move a few of his mother's lotions and sit down on the edge of the tub, his eyes in his book. "Good morning, Harry, dear, " she would always say. "What have you got there?"

"My book, " Harry would always answer. "Good morning, Mum."

She would watch curiously as her son would finish the little book in minutes, his hungry mind always wanting more. He would grab her magazines, which had various witches and wizards with fashion and beauty tips, and read them, always pausing a moment too long on pages with wizards on them.

"Anything interesting?" Lily would ask.

Harry would shake his head, flipping quickly to pages with witches in flowing dresses with too much makeup on their faces. "No, just more stuff you already have."

"How do you know I have it all?"

" 'Cuz I saw it, "

Lily would smile and nod to herself. But one day, Harry was already reading the newest magazine when James came in and went to give Lily her kiss when he saw what Harry was reading. He had been four and James had grabbed his arm, making him stand and drop the publication out of shock.

"What do you think you're doing?" James hissed to his son. "Reading women's magazines in your spare time?"

"James, he doesn't know any better---" Lily tried, but James had hit the backs of Harry's legs right above the knees. "James!"

Harry had tears in his eyes as James told him, "Get to your room and stay there until I come back from work."

Harry rushed off to his room as Lily wrapped herself in a towel, scolding her husband. "He's a child, James. He wasn't hurting anything."

"He's been sneaking them out of here and holding them in his room."

"So what?" Lily asked fiercely. James didn't respond as he left and Lily heard the parlour door open and shut.

Lily walked up to Harry's room, knocking softly on his door before asking, "May I come in, Harry, dear?"

"Okay, " his small voice answered, clogged with tears. She opened the door and sat on his bed, watching him scoot over against his pillows.

"I love you, Harry, dear."

"Okay, " Harry said, turning his face away.

Lily asked, "How about we go and bake cookies?"

"But Father said---"

"He won't know, " Lily interjected. She smiled and Harry thought over the suggestion, finally jumping off of his bed and rushing to the door. "But Nathalie is with the nanny today."

Harry scrunched up his face, saying, "So what? Let's make cookies!"

Lily hadn't realized that she was sitting in her son's room, her hands holding tightly to one of his shirts. She remembered when he had gotten it a few years ago, hiding it under his coat until he had gotten to his room, holding it up to get a good look at it. James hadn't found the shirt bought from a hidden wizarding shop, leaving Harry to hide it and pretend he didn't know where the seventy Galleons went from his money bag.

Lily ran her fingers over the supple material, her emerald eyes feeling hot and dry. How could she have not known that James was going to harm him? How did she not know of James' abuse towards her son?

She sniffed, standing and leaving the room, shutting the door silently behind her. Harry had always been a sweet child, growing up with young parents; Lily was only eighteen when Harry was born and James had been twenty.

He never came back into Lily's bathroom in the morning to read his books or her magazines. Harry stayed in his room and Lily would think about her son and if she was doing the right thing by staying with James Potter. She had always wanted a lavished lifestyle for her children, wanting to give them everything she never had growing up.

When Harry had turned six and Nathalie was four, he watched silently as James ran around the house with her on his shoulders, laughing as she did. Lily had never seen James do this with Harry and was tempted to ask why he never had, but Harry had left the room in his silent way before she could.

Lily followed him, equally silent, to his room, where he shut the door behind him. She pressed her ear against the wood, listening to her son move pillows around and saying to himself, "Don't listen to him. He doesn't understand, "

And then he laughed, seemingly at nothing. She opened the door just a bit, seeing that Harry was sitting on the ground, his pillows in front of him in a line. He looked at each one, focusing intently before saying, "Bartholomew, don't talk like that! Those swear words and Mum said . . ." he trailed off and Lily wondered what he was going to say.

When Nathalie died, Lily was struck with grief she had never known. She hadn't felt this bad since her mother had passed away shortly after she started to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry had stopped being the little boy she used to know and secluded himself to his room almost all hours of the day with only a break for lunch and supper. He no longer ate breakfast or let his mother into his room, only when his father burst in there did he let them in. He kept his head down, his voice low, and his face blank.

"How was school, Harry, dear?" she would ask during break.

"Good, " Harry would answer, walking up to his room quickly, shutting his mother out behind him.

Lily shook her head, focusing instead on the steady knocks from the front door. When she answered it, her eyes went wide.

"James!"

"Hello, Lily, " the man replied. His cheeks were hollow, but his voice was strong.

"You aren't supposed to be here."

"It's my home."

"You hurt my son, " Lily whispered, not stepping away from the door. "You gave him a Mark."

James looked at his wife for a long time, telling her finally, "I'll be in London if you need to contact me. Don't let him get to---"

"Just leave, " Lily snapped, shutting the door in his face. She leaned against the door, wanting to write to Harry, but also knowing he wouldn't read it.

She wrote to the Ministry of Magic instead, telling them where James Potter was hiding out, hoping for some sort of closure in this situation. Then she wrote to Harry; her son. Her only child.

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