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A Love at Stake

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Lily was in a daze. She felt tears trickle down her front as she stared blankly outside the window of her apartment after she had come home that night, still a bit shaken from what happened earlier. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she still had her son, walking about the house, cooking in the kitchen, and now, everything was quiet, so quiet she feared she may have been losing it. There were no movements or loud hoots from Hedwig whenever Harry would pet her and send letters to his friends. It was nothing but silence.


To Lily, nothing made sense anymore; the life she led, her work, even just plain living.


Why are James and my son dead? Why am I not? Why do I keep losing the people I care about? Why do I always have to live like this? Why, why, why… Too many questions popped into her head and she didn't know how to answer any of them or what to think. Everything was just so overwhelming. It was sickening to her stomach. She couldn't handle the pain, the sorrow, the hurt of losing someone she cared for with all that she was.


She leaned back against the door of Harry's room. Emotions were eating her up inside. She took her hands to her face, sobbing harder and harder until she could no longer cry. She opened the door and stood silently, looking around.


Harry only wanted a simple room with few decorations on the walls. They showed posters of his favourite Quidditch team and a Gryffindor banner. There was a bed covered with a dark maroon blanket, a window with velvet curtains, a wooden wardrobe, a small desk with some of Harry's notebooks and quills, and a lonely snowy owl perched on top of her cage sleeping soundly with her head tucked into her wing.


Slowly, Lily walked inside and sat on the bed. Laid on top of the desk was a picture frame of Lily and James dancing and twirling in the park. Lily stared at it; memories of that day came flooding back. It was her happiest and most precious moment, the day they were married. And as though struck by guilt and conscience, she cried as she relived the few snippets of conversation she had a few hours ago when Harry asked her for a dance and she turned him down so coldly. She now knew when he'd seen her dance. It was this picture, the only picture on his table. Her tears fell. I'm so sorry, Harry…


Lily wiped her already puffy eyes as she continued to scan Harry's personal belongings. In the middle of the desk, she recognized a leather notebook that she gave Harry a couple of years back; it was really quite beautiful, with smooth velvet coverings and H.J.P embossed right in the middle. She opened it and sat on the bed.


Harry's handwriting was immediately recognizable. It was a journal full of his thoughts and feelings.


Lily flipped through dozens of pages and started reading a few at random. It was dated in the corner and was from a few years ago when he was twelve.


My mum and I rarely talk. I only just realized how much I am missing when I first met Ron's family. I have to admit that I'm a little jealous of the way they communicate; you can really feel the love and care of each one of them. I've never had that chance in my life. I've tried it multiple times before but all I got were a few nods, raised eyebrows, a yes or a no, and that was that. I know she's busy, but I miss her so much. I am still wishing for that day when we can just talk about anything. That'd be fun.


The next one was from a month ago: Harry's first day back in London for the summer.


I couldn't believe my first night back home would be so terrible. I got yelled at for not doing enough in school (which is not true, of course! I don't know why mum thinks that), so she decided that I start cleaning, do the chores, and study some more. I mean, who would want to study when you just got out from school? Anyway, enough ranting. I decided to make up for my behaviour, so I wanted to cook. I am not a good cook, I'm still learning how, but I really want to cook dinner each night if I can for mum. Maybe she would appreciate the gesture, or not.


The next one was this morning.


I know it's too early to lose hope, but I can't help it. Each day I feel like my mum and I are drifting further apart. She won't talk to me. She's always cooped up in her room when she's home. She barely ate the food that I prepared for her last night. I asked her some random things about dad to start a conversation, but she just ignored me. I don't know how else to talk to her. I'm seriously getting desperate, so Hermione suggested that I write a poem for her. I thought it was a lame attempt at first but I wrote one anyway. I want to give it to her but I'm afraid that she might not understand. But I will, someday. I am just waiting for the right moment.


Lily flipped through some more but the rest of the pages were blank. With a shaking hand, Lily took the folded paper placed in between the pages. She smoothed it out and read.




By H.J.P

All the time I've been waiting

That you will see and know what I'm longing

Want to live a life that I'm yearning

Wake my senses and my world of dreaming


Since my life is in solitary

Wondering what if this would be

I'm with you but I didn't feel any

Mum, do you hear my heart's emissary?


You are my inspiration in everything I do

Even if it's hard to bear and I can't join the flow

But I felt you ignored those things, is it true?

Or you see my hardships but you didn't view?


I open my arms, as well as my heart

To receive the love bound from the start

But when I went close, you turned your back

I tried to run to you but lost my track


Mother, could you please say to me

That you love me unconditionally

That all my deeds even bad you'll embrace

And you'll forgive me with your willful grace


Can you utter those words I've wanted to hear?

Can I have those eyes looking at mine?

May I hold those warm hands to enfold my sighs?

May I see your lips giving me a smile?


I love you even when the blue sky has gone

I need you when the darkness comes

Long for your touch, your hug so tight

That would ease my fright in the middle of the night


You grant me life, endow a chance

You give me your flesh, your own blood

That's why I've cherished you since I was in your womb

And I'll treasure you 'till I am in a tomb


But you're miles away, it made me sad

I extend my arms to grasp the times we've had

With stream in my eyes, I kneeled and look above

Asking, could I know-how and feel a mother's love?


Lily couldn't control her tears from falling after she read the poem. She pressed the notebook close to her heart, hugging it tightly. She had always known her Harry was good with words, but she didn't know that he could put this much meaning into them. This was the only way Harry felt he could communicate to Lily. The only way he could show his feelings without being shouted at. She felt horrible for treating her son in such an awful way. She would never forgive herself for not noticing, not doing anything about it, and just letting it destroy Harry little by little.


Hedwig made a soft hoot. Lily could tell that the owl could at least somewhat sense her emotions. Hedwig tilted her head to one side and eyed her sadly.


Lily curled on Harry's bed thinking of the many things she could've done differently, or what she could've done better for Harry. Thought after thought, she blinked back tears until she no longer felt as if she would burst of emotion. She closed her eyes and let the exhaustion and grief take over. She was due for some rest, anyways.