During her time running around - completely adverse to be a responsible, maturing adult - Lily had met a lot of people, and she had learned the multiple ways one might meet new people. She had met people in bars, in alleys, in the shrieking shack, before and after drug deals, and in other less-than-perfect, less-than-legitimate situations. In simple terms, Lily had become well accustomed to introductions and new meetings. She knew not to show all your cards, and she knew to escape if you figured out within the first few minutes that your company was either unpleasant or dangerous.
So no fear took place in her heart as she felt the approach of a stranger. Her eyes remained closed beneath her sunglasses, her head remained pointed to the sky. The only change she made was to take a final puff on her almost finished cigarette. Lily reached up and plucked it from her lips, before snubbing the end of it out on her knee, burning yet another hole in her already thrashed jeans. Most of her clothes were in horrid states now from the month she had been absent. No cleaning, no mending, and now most of her clothes were grungy, ripped, and holey. Ah well. Somehow it suited her.
She expected the person, whoever it was, to recognize her. To call her by name, ask why she wasn’t in school, ask after her family, the usual. And if they did not recognize her, she expected to be asked out for a pint – because she had learned she was a magnet for creepy older men who did not seem to mind looking desperate in chasing girls who ought not to know better. Lily did, though. Not from too much experience either. Teddy said it was because she naturally had a distrusting and cynical view of human nature. He had never said it as a compliment either.
This person, however, broke the established pattern. Still, Lily did not look at him, nor did she open her eyes. He gave her the time of day. “Is it?” she said, sounding cryptic, when really she had not realized she had been out for so long. She had come well before noon. But she had stayed a long time, soaking in sunlight, inhaling nicotine, trying to do anything but be Lily Potter. This man was a lovely reminder that it was not in the cards for her to just cease to exist, however, and she would have to live another day running away from this horrible burden of identity.
“It’s a day, certainly,” she said, trying to keep the heaviness out of the statement. “Warm. Bright. No longer singular.” There she was, pulling that whole cryptic shtick again. She tried to shake herself out of it, and reached her hand across her body and towards the man. “Lily Potter,” the surname came out, unfortunately, and she bit the last part of the word, as though hoping she could inhale it back inside of herself. Unfortunately, the damage was done. She was a Potter again.