Well that's quite a bit to try to wrap her head around. Horcruxes and her boy growing up terrorized by a monster. Her frown grows more and more pronounced with each sentence her son shares. Green eyes grow harder and harder, like chips of emerald, until she sharply inhales and rears back, looking at him over with a franticness layered with a terror that leaves it impossible to breathe.
"He--he killed you?" There's no stopping the waiver in her voice. Anger and raw emotion, disbelief. Her grasp on his arms tightens. This is exactly what she'd feared... except, instead of that mad man killing a baby, he'd killed her son while he'd been... presumably still a boy. Still her boy, regardless of his age. Lily's not sure what to make of him attributing his survival to a spell she hadn't knowingly casted. She's not talented like Dumbledore or other witches and wizards. Maybe she has a knack for potions, but saving lives?
If she weren't with him right this second--if they weren't stepping out of the hall...
It's not until the din of the room dies away that she breathes. That she manages to swallow enough air to keep from losing her composure again. He doesn't need to see his mother crying every two seconds like a volatile little thing. Instead, he'll have to deal with a tight grip on his arm.
"Does it? How do you know what it looked like back then?" Her gaze sweeps over the halls they wander through. "I suppose it wouldn't have changed too much, over the years, come to think of it."
Word of her sister gives Lily pause, her expression growing more troubled. Petunia is yet another worry, and one she's not entirely sure she wants to learn more about just yet. Yet if she doesn't ask now, will the possibility ever present itself?
"I'll tell you everything you wanted to know. Like all the dates your father sabotaged and how I hexed him nearly every chance I got before we got together, and how he would chase you around the house on your little broom Sirius bought you for your first birthday." Her voice cracks again, that sadness threatening to choke her. She takes a shaky breath. "Everything. I'll tell you it all," she whispers, looking at him with a shaky smile. One that withers away moments later. "Harry, did--was my sister. She--was she kind to you?"
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"He--he killed you?" There's no stopping the waiver in her voice. Anger and raw emotion, disbelief. Her grasp on his arms tightens. This is exactly what she'd feared... except, instead of that mad man killing a baby, he'd killed her son while he'd been... presumably still a boy. Still her boy, regardless of his age. Lily's not sure what to make of him attributing his survival to a spell she hadn't knowingly casted. She's not talented like Dumbledore or other witches and wizards. Maybe she has a knack for potions, but saving lives?
If she weren't with him right this second--if they weren't stepping out of the hall...
It's not until the din of the room dies away that she breathes. That she manages to swallow enough air to keep from losing her composure again. He doesn't need to see his mother crying every two seconds like a volatile little thing. Instead, he'll have to deal with a tight grip on his arm.
"Does it? How do you know what it looked like back then?" Her gaze sweeps over the halls they wander through. "I suppose it wouldn't have changed too much, over the years, come to think of it."
Word of her sister gives Lily pause, her expression growing more troubled. Petunia is yet another worry, and one she's not entirely sure she wants to learn more about just yet. Yet if she doesn't ask now, will the possibility ever present itself?
"I'll tell you everything you wanted to know. Like all the dates your father sabotaged and how I hexed him nearly every chance I got before we got together, and how he would chase you around the house on your little broom Sirius bought you for your first birthday." Her voice cracks again, that sadness threatening to choke her. She takes a shaky breath. "Everything. I'll tell you it all," she whispers, looking at him with a shaky smile. One that withers away moments later. "Harry, did--was my sister. She--was she kind to you?"