WHITE FLAG ▹ potter

038. father, don't blame us

"It won't come off! Why won't it come off?!"

"Stop!" He flew onto his knees by her side, "Stop it, please."

Despite his wiry appearance, he was so much stronger than she was, and he ripped her hands away from harming herself any further. He imprisoned her wrists and held on until she stopped fighting, stopped screaming, until she slumped limply against the wall. Then, with a deep sigh, he tugged her forward so her forehead collided with his sternum and he buried his hand into the hair at the back of her head.

"It's over, you've done enough," he murmured into her hair, "It's all right. It's all right."

He was never one for false platitudes; she wondered why he bothered starting now.

"No, it's not," she muttered into the fabric of his shirt. "Nothing's all right."

A beat of silence.

"Is it not?"

"No. It won't come off. I've tried everything, but magic wouldn't work so... I thought the Muggle way might do."

Her father brushed his cheek against the top of her head, and for a moment, she felt him squeeze just a bit tighter. Then, he was summoning Star Glass Salve and Murtlap Essence and Wiggenweld Potion, and she watched as he treated her wounds from somewhere far away — even though she sat in the very same room.

"Do not take off the bandages until I allow it. We'll freshen them tomorrow." Setting back on his haunches, he stared at her with that frighteningly impervious expression before, "You've done severe damage, but the Dark Mark will remain no matter what you try. You've known this for years."

He was right. She had known this for years, ever since she was seven and took a knife to the Mark in hopes of removing it. She had the same result then as she did now.

"Yes."

"So." His thin lips twisted, "I must ask you: why — did — you — try?"

"I... I dunno. But I had to do something, didn't I?"

ϟ

Severus watched Lilium.

His daughter could not eat.

He watched her try, and try, and she — could — not — eat. Madam Pomfrey's dietary instructions had fallen by the wayside, and Lilium was surviving mostly on Severus' nutritional potions. He had tried nearly everything to increase his daughter's food intake. He monitored her health closely — casting daily Diagnosis Charms, plying her with the nutritional potions along with stomach—soothing, anti—nausea, and appetite—increasing potions. He experimented with various kinds of flavours from vinegar to sugar and textures from spongy to crispy.

Despite this, it all apparently tasted wrong — everything did. Textures bothered her tongue. Flavour had gone wrong. It all felt and tasted like dirt in her mouth. Over and over, he watched her pick up her fork and put it in her lips, but he knew it tasted of nothing. Nothing but sadness.

Severus watched Lilium closely at the dinner table. Her skinny and heavy—burdened figure. Her slouched shoulders (he'd raised her to sit straight, to always keep her shoulders back with pride). Her bowed head (he'd raised her to hold her head high, chin up with confidence — even false confidence was better than shame).