Unmasked (A Scorily/Scorlily Fanfic)[post-cursed child]

Chapter One: Nix

Ohhhhhhh, yes. I am back.

I am BACK.

Can't keep Lily off of Scorily fanfics for long, not with all these Scorose fics crowding out such an adorable ship. So buckle your seatbelts, my readers, and stay with me. This fic is the best I've written yet and you're going to want to weep when you read it.

Love you all!

Lily

P.S. The header picture is what this story's Lily looks like.

Lily Luna Potter

Miss Lily Potter

L. Luna Potter

Lily L. Potter

L.L.P.

Thirteen-year-old Lily sat on her bed, hunched over a pile of clothing, laboriously marking each item with a different variation of her name. Her mother had insisted on this, and Lily, bored out of her mind, was attempting to provide some sort of variation- any sort- to the tedious task of ensuring that someone could return her socks, should they happen to end up in some strange and unexpected place Lily could not find. Her long, pin-straight red hair hung in a red-gold curtain in front of her face, despite all her efforts to tuck it behind her ears. Her short, spindly legs kicked mutinously against her bedframe, the only sign of rebellion Lily would allow herself to show.

Lily, she though furiously to herself, scratching "L.L. Potter" hurriedly onto the inside hem of one of her jumpers. Such a stupid name. Because of this stupid, stupid name, they all expect me to be just- she blotted the ink vindictively- like- she mopped up the ink splotch with one of her black school robes- her.

Lily's earliest memory was an unhappy one. She had been three, running to open presents beneath the family Christmas tree, excited to see what treasures awaited her this year. She had torn open the first present marked with her name, alongside her cousins, to find a dress. A frilly dress, white, with a little embroidered flower on its front- a lily. She'd turned to see Rose uncovering a toy broomstick, and Domi and Roxanne finding the same.

She'd looked back at her own gift, firmly resolving to like it. She'd smiled her appreciation to Aunt Angelina, then opened another gift.

An enchanted little-girl crown.

And then a pink hair bow.

And then a plush lamb.

By the end of the morning, Lily had not received a single present like the ones her older female cousins had received, and she had wondered what exactly made her so different. The only conclusion she could come to was that she was a little girl- the little girl- and that was merely how things were, and how her family wanted them to be.

As Lily had grown older, she had hoped things would get better, but they hadn't. Not at all. Lily's given name, she'd often thought, could just as easily have been "my youngest," or "my littlest," as "Lily," merely because that was what her parents always called her. And her cousins had never, ever let her join in anything they were doing, not like with Hugo and Louis. Lily had always had to go find something to do alone, because she was what James affectionately called "the baby."

Too delicate, they said. Too annoying.

And then there had been that dreadful present from her father for the beginning of school- fairy wings.

Pink fairy wings.

I'm eleven, she'd thought bitterly when she saw just what it was her father had picked out for her. I'm not a baby. And if I'd been Rose, or Roxy, or Dominique, who are all only two years older than I am, you would never have thought of giving me something like this.

But Lily's elder brother, Albus, had been going through hard times just then, and Daddy looked so very taxed. And so Lily, who wanted her father's love, not just his patronization, had smiled her best for him and put the wings on.

"I like them," she'd said, doing her best to be enthusiastic. "They're very... fluttery."

Harry and Ginny Potter were convinced they knew their eldest child and their youngest inside and out. With James, this was very likely true, for he was much the same on the outside as he was on the inside.

But if they had known what a struggle Lily fought daily, to be what they wanted and to do as they wanted, to repress the longings for adventure that stirred inside of her constantly, they would have been forced to admit that they did not know their child at all. Just because she did not turn sullen and moody at her differentness, like Albus had, did not mean she did not chafe against the expectations everyone seemed to have for sunny, cheerful, adorable Lily Potter.

Lily longed to play Quidditch like Rose, to duel like Roxanne, to be as poised as Dominique. But she couldn't, because life- or rather, her family- had not assigned her any of those positions.

Lily began to scratch her name onto yet another sock, then paused, lost in thought.

Albus.

It wasn't fair, she reflected, squeezing the sock tight in her right fist (Lily was left-handed). Albus had been completely horrid to everyone around him for four whole years, just because he'd gone to Slytherin. But Lily had heard what her father had told Albus at the start of his school career- the Hat lets you choose. Which, she knew, meant that Albus had had something to do with his placement in Slytherin. Which meant that it wasn't anyone's fault but his.

And, Lily reasoned, that meant that he hadn't had any right to be rude and nasty to his family. He'd been taking anger out on them.

And then all he'd had to do to turn the tide of his popularity and fix his family problems had been to go off on an adventure. Well, Lily huffed silently to herself, that's not fair, either.

Albus was Hogwarts's Golden Boy now, and she, Lily, was still that-sweet-little-Potter-girl-who-prances-about-with-wings-all-the-time.

Why did she wear the wings? There was a very simple reason, and it had nothing to do with childishness.

The fairy wings, annoyingly fluttery and pink as they were, gave Lily a label. Something she could be identified with other than her father. It made her the-girl-with-the-wings, instead of that-girl-who's-Harry-Potter's-daughter. Eccentric? Yes. But Lily could pull eccentric off. All she had to do was widen her eyes and smile winningly.

If Albus can turn things around for himself, really shine the way he wants to, change people's perceptions of him, she huffed inwardly, why can't I?

Why couldn't she?

The idea made her shift slightly, and looking down, she realized she'd started writing her name with "N-I" instead of "L-I-." She was about to change it when her new thoughts began swarming into her head, somehow adding a "X" to the end of the "N-I-" to spell "Nix."

A new nickname, she thought, beginning to smile. Well, that's a start.

Albus had completely made a shift, and Mum and Dad seemed to love him more for it. So why shouldn't she, Lily, do the same?

She sat up straight and shook her hair back, her puckish hazel eyes that so resembled her grandfather's shining with mischief for the first time in her life. She'd show everyone. She'd do something notable, be something she really wanted to be.

She, Nix Potter, would make sure Hogwarts knew who she was, who she really was.

And not even Uncle George would be able to match the mischief she'd make.