a fools lament

t had been a long day, as it so often was. Lily had been accustomed to patrolling the corridors late at night since fifth year, when she had first been made a Prefect, and balancing that with her homework had never presented her with a problem since she was by nature an organised girl, but this year, things were rather different. As Head Girl, she had to patrol not just one or two nights a week but every night, and this, in addition to her vastly increased workload as NEWTs approached with terrifying speed, was beginning to get on top of her ever so slightly. On this particular day it had been five minutes after midnight before she had even so much as thought about getting into bed and by the time that she had completed all the preparations which were by custom and practice necessary before the actual act of going to sleep it was nearly half past. Finally, however, she had drawn the covers over herself, turned onto one side, closed her eyes and slipped away into the warm darkness of sleep where there were no exams to worry about.

What she did have to worry about, however, was strange dreams, and she had no shortage of those on this particular night. Firstly, she found herself standing in a chamber of stone, which she vaguely recognised as being a part of Hogwarts, while a ring of figures dressed in black stood silently around her... and then just as the redhead opened her mouth to speak, they shifted and changed and became trees, and she was standing in a dark forest while the moon flashed red, green, blue, yellow... and then changed again to be a disco ball, revolving slowly in the black sky as an unseen bird sang in the bushes... and then Lily woke up.

The Gryffindor blinked slowly for a moment or two as the inky blackness of the real world crept into her consciousness, driving away the surreal atmosphere which her perverse dreams had introduced into her psyche, and then she smiled slowly. Well, that had been an interesting experience. What it had not been, however, was even slightly conducive to restful sleep, which the redhead felt was what she really needed if she was to have any chance of making it through the next day and, of course, the rest of the week afterwards. Accordingly, she rubbed her eyes, turned over and would in all probability have returned swiftly to the embrace of sleep had it not been for the fact that the portrait which hung in the centre of the wall over her bed repeated the action which had dragged her out of that situation in the first place; namely, the stout witch who was its sole occupant coughed. The Muggleborn witch sighed- softly, so as not to wake up any of her roommates. Clearly, things did not intend to incline in her direction tonight. Brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, she swung herself out of bed and turned to face the frame in question. "Can I help you?" she enquired courteously, if somewhat groggily. It paid to stay on the right side of the portraits; Lily sometimes felt that they had a better knowledge of what was going on around the castle than even the Headmaster did at times, and though it was the middle of the night and this woman had just awakened her from what had been a functional if not especially enjoyable sleep, the redhead assumed that since it had never occurred before, there must be some reason behind it. She was proved to be entirely correct.

"Oh, dear!" the woman exclaimed in a breathy voice. "There's a boy waiting outside the Tower for you! Isn't that romantic?!"

Lily groaned inwardly. Who on earth could that be? The only person who she could think of that might try such a thing would be Potter, but he was most definitely in Gryffindor House, and so he would have no reason to wait outside... OK, she had to admit it. Her curiosity had been somewhat aroused. "What does he look like?"

The woman shrugged, clearly amazed that Lily was not immediately throwing on her dressing gown and leaping down the stairs at her news. "Tall. Longish hair. Could do with a bit more to eat, if you ask me, dear- you cook, don't you?"

Giving the portrait's subject a hard stare from emerald eyes- and Lily's stare was a force to be reckoned with, as a number of misbehaving first years had speedily learned- the redhead recognised Severus immediately from the description, and was on the point of dispatching a message to the effect that he could go to hell (although it might have been expressed in terms even stronger than that) when her unlikely messenger, possibly divining her intent since the redhead had never mastered the skill of maintaining an expressionless face, added the postscript "He's been crying, dear. Desperate, if you ask me."

Lily sighed. However much he might have hurt her, he was still Severus, and even if he had not been, Lily was about as able to resist a person in trouble as she was to fly without a broom, and so she did indeed pull on her dressing gown, giving the portrait a warning look which implied very clearly that this was not what she thought it was, whatever she thought it was, and make her way downstairs.

She paused for a moment before the portrait, then took a decisive step forwards and pushed through the gap. There, as she had been told, was Severus. "It's the middle of the night." the redhead stated blandly. "You had better have a very good explanation for this."


Words: 968 || Outfit