[identity profile] hernes-son.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] hh_mirror
((Ok'd by Chance-mun and Lily-mun. Comes after this.))


Instead of returning to Hogwarts and the company of others, Robin and Chance had elected to spend time around the fire he’d built, not talking about anything consequential but simply enjoying each other’s company; but dusk was lowering and the fire was flickering and it was time to go in. Robin got to his feet and extinguished the fire carefully, dusting off his hands before wordlessly holding one out to Chance to help her up.

They walked in companionable silence to the walls of Hogwarts and then through an arch, a courtyard, and another arch before entering the castle proper. Robin looked around doubtfully. “I have not been this way before,” he said. “How do we go?”

For answer Chance indicated a statue of a fat, elderly man with an enormous feather headdress. “This is going to look undignified,” Chance warned, “but trust me, the statue doesn't mind,”; and, looking distinctly uncomfortable at the action herself, she twisted the statue's nose, whereupon the wall behind opened up, revealing a passageway.

Robin grinned. “Clever,” he murmured, and followed her in.

They came out between the stacks, shelves of books that climbed, it seemed to Robin, to the sky. Beyond the shelves were more shelves, all filled to overflowing with books. Robin had never been in an actual library before – the one in the convent at Ravenscar, and the one in Tuck’s old order, encompassed his experience. Here, he thought surely, was the sum total of man’s knowledge, all safely recorded in the written word. He looked at Chance in dismay. How would they find anything in this maze?

Date: 2007-03-12 06:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
Unlike Robin, Chance knows where they are, by and large. She's used to entering the library by this route, and she knows they've come in very near the Restricted Section, amidst shelves of books on Potions. What she wants is anthropology and folklore. She took a couple of anthro courses as an undergraduate, and while she hasn't had occasion to resort to this at Hogwarts yet, she wants to find the Aarne-Thompson tale type index (http://www.northern.edu/hastingw/motif.htm). Robin's given her more than one name he's been known by. She thinks there are probably linked tales.

As she leads Robin through the narrow stacks, she wonders if this world even has the Aarne-Thompson index. Maybe in this world, Stith Thompson was stillborn, or Antti Aarne decided to become a dentist.

Unfortunately, a very large folio has been stuck sideways into the shelves, precarious and just begging to be dislodged. It falls to the floor as Chance brushes by.

"Oh, shit," she curses her own clumsiness, and the sound of her cursing only compounds whatever disruption the sound of the book's fall will have caused. Mortified, she looks around to see whether anyone's been disturbed, hoping to god they haven't.

And sees a familiar red head pop up from behind a large stack of books at one of the study tables.

She lifts her hands in an apologetic what can you do? gesture, and mouths "I'm sorry!" to Lily Evans.

Date: 2007-03-12 06:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
Absorbed would have been a polite word for what Lily was. She'd finally begun to make some headway on a particularly troublesome Occlumency theory and was busily making notes, muttering to herself as she flipped pages (and totally ignoring the heart sketched in the upper margin of her parchment with the initials SB; even Lily could resort to being completely girly every once and a while). The loud clattering noise barely made her blink, but her concentration was broken enough that the curse made her look up, frowning a little as she felt her train of thought slip away.

Recognizing Chance, though, the frown eased into a smile and she shrugged, waving her over. The woman was accompanied by a man Lily didn't know, but it'd been several hours since her last break, and she figured that this was as good a time as any.

Date: 2007-03-13 01:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
(( slight edit :) ))

Chance isn't finely attuned to people's body language, has never been what you'd call socially adept. She doesn't need to be, to discern what's just overtaken poor Robin. They've only just spent an afternoon talking about the people they've lost, idle warm pleasant nostalgic talk by the fire Robin built for them, Chance able to talk to this man who understands what she means. Not that no one else at Hogwarts has ever lost anyone, and Lily's got that in common with Chance too, the two women have even talked about it (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1191964.html); but there's something about the remoteness of Robin's past that somehow makes him a blank slate for Chance, a safe blank book to write her secrets in. That long afternoon flickering away and Chance not cold for once, and she's said things she's not sure she'd even want to tell anyone else here, not just narrative like the improbable story of how she met Deacon (though she's told Robin that too, at some point, smiling into the distance and shaking her head at the stupid nobility of Deacon's actions then and the way he'd shrugged them off), but the little details she's almost afraid to lose. Things like how he almost never got angry, so laid-back as to be near impossible to rattle. Like how he still carried the Bullwinkle keychain she gave him when they'd first started dating, six years and he still carried that goofy thing. Like how his eyes looked, green like Chance's but the resemblance stops there, muddy and deep where hers are clear, and how he had to wear black sunglasses in the Birmingham sunshine because of the headaches he'd get, the bad headaches that came and wouldn't go away.

And Robin's told her about Marian, the same way, those little details, and so Chance has a vague mental image of Marian, nothing like the clear sharp image Robin must have been holding in his mind when he described his lady to her, but enough to know what's shaken him now, and oh, shit, she almost whispers again, barely manages to hold her tongue.

She puts an arm out to steady him. "This is my friend Lily Evans," she says, and actually she doesn't really feel like she knows Lily well enough to claim her as a friend, wouldn't have described her as such to anyone if asked. The term just comes out because she's trying to make it clear to Robin that Lily's someone she does know. That Lily isn't a resurrection of someone else.

"Lily, have you met Robin of Loxley? He's new here. New as they come, still getting settled."

Date: 2007-03-13 02:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
As Robin looked at her, Lily froze. She knew that look. How could she not? That was the expression she'd consumed the memory-James with, the reflection that was all she'd been allowed of her husband (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1199590.html#cutid1). It was that same desperate longing that she would surreptitiously study the not-her-James with, simply because he wore her James' face, talked in his voice. Swallowing hard, Lily rose from her seat and came around the table, watching Robin.

Of course, Lily completely considered Chance a friend, and so didn't blink at the introduction. "I haven't," she managed quietly, eyes never leaving the man's face. Who did she remind him of, then, that he was devouring her so hopelessly? Holding out one hand, she gave him a small, gentle smile. "I'm Lily. It's nice to meet you, Robin."

Date: 2007-03-13 01:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
Life after death has its occupational hazards. This must be one of them. It's not just the deja vu you get when you see a stranger in an airport you think you recognise, Chance thinks, the pull at your heart with that false recognition, the letdown when they turn and you see they're not who you thought/hoped/feared they were. It's something still more visceral. She hasn't experienced it yet herself and she hopes she never does. The pain of this disjunction is written on Robin's face so blatantly it'd almost be crass to acknowledge it aloud. And she knows there's nothing she can do to ease it. Nothing that would occur to her to offer, anyway, or to give unasked either.

She's less certain of Lily's reaction. She can't tell anything other than that Lily might be uncomfortable and that Lily might be trying to set aside that discomfort in the interest of courtesy. So Chance says, as lightly as she can, "Medieval manners," as Robin bends over Lily's hand instead of shaking it the way Chance would assume Lily intended.

Date: 2007-03-13 05:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
"Er, thank you," Lily said, glancing up at Chance with a slightly puzzled smile. Really, what was the correct response to being told she looked like a flower? "I think my mum was desperately hoping that if she gave me a ladylike name I'd turn out that way. Sadly, it didn't seem to work. Though my sister, Petunia, was always the picture of it, so perhaps it's simply a matter of degrees. Petunias are much more of a girly sort of flower, I suppose."

Right. She babbled when she got nervous. And the look Robin wore had shaken her. Shaking her head, waving one hand to dismiss all that, Lily took a breath. "Sorry, I..."

I know that you're thinking of someone else.

I know how that feels.

I wish I didn't remind you of whoever it is.


"I'm sorry," she repeated ineffectually. It was easy to see she wasn't talking any longer about the rambling. Gaze scanning Robin's face, a clear question in her eyes, Lily gave the man another smile before looking over at Chance. "What brings you both to the library?" Because small talk was the only thing she could seem to manage at the moment.

Date: 2007-03-13 07:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
Chance doesn't think she's been party to a moment this awkward since that wine and cheese reception when the dean of admissions, fresh off a nasty divorce, made a clumsy pass at the vice president for student affairs. She fidgets. What seemed not out of place in the solemnity of their conversation outdoors -- his formality, the extravagance of his expressions -- she can see now may need some adjustment for modern social settings.

It's with relief that she hears the word book. This she can talk about. "I want to find the Aarne-Thompson tale-type index," she says. "And actually I'm pretty sure where to go about looking for it in here, just not sure it'll actually be here." She gropes for the exact title. "The Types of the Folktale," she says, a little uncertain. Generally when she thought of it, or when it was referred to in class, it was always just Aarne-Thompson. "Robin's something of a legendary figure. We want to investigate the tales that've accreted around him, so he knows what the hell people are expecting from him, and maybe how to deflect it."

Date: 2007-03-13 08:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
That made her laugh. "Willful. Yeah, that's a good word for it." Awkward was another one. Shifting slightly, she felt herself colour under Robin's gaze, at a loss for what she should say or do. It wasn't that she didn't understand what the man's expression meant; it was that she recognized it all too well. And she was never one to simply let things like this pass by. Lily would much rather have it all out in the open than dance around an obvious issue.

Well, she'd rather that when it came to other people. Her own issues she kept tightly locked away; she was quite adept at keeping the focus far away from anything she didn't wish to talk about. Whether that was a byproduct of the war or simple hypocrisy was... Well, another thing that Lily didn't allow herself to think on.

All in all, she was relieved when Chance gave her something else to focus on. "Hmm..." Lily paused, thinking, turning in a slow circle as she scanned the library. Then, snapping her fingers as something clicked, she walked down a few rows and began searching the stacks, one finger trailing along the spines of the books. As she looked, she explained, "It's not often that I'm defeated by a book, but this one made no sense at all to me. And I can read Latin and Old English." She gave Chance a brief smile before she continued to hunt.

Voice still casual and light, her eyes darted to Robin. "Who was she?" Because Lily had to know. But then, finding the requested book, she eased it from the shelf with a triumphant grin. "Ah. Here we are." She looked up at Chance and Robin. "What do you mean he's legendary?" Not like she wasn't mentioned in books, herself. But a topic change might be welcome.

Date: 2007-03-13 11:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
When Lily stops at one of the shelves, Chance's face goes blank, then lights up with a curious sort of nervous excitement, not even really happiness. She'd been following Lily through the stacks with trepidation. If the book didn't exist in this world, the same way her own seminal article on Megalopseudosuchus didn't exist -- Well, it would be destabilising, to say the least. Unlike Chance's article, new enough not to have made much of an impact for all its significance in the long run, Aarne and Thompson's work was a standard, and this book was a standard reference. As much as she sympathises with Robin's feelings concerning Marian, as much as she'd feel the same if she saw a Deacon doppelganger, she's forgotten the tension and awkwardness of Robin's reaction to Lily as soon as Lily pulls that book from the shelf.

"May I?" she says, perfunctory, not waiting for an answer before she takes the book from Lily's hands, opens it, flips not to the title page but to the page that gives its publishing history. It's what she was expecting, Thompson's 1961 translation and expansion of Aarne's work (http://catalog.loc.gov/cgi-bin/Pwebrecon.cgi?DB=local&CNT=10&CMD=10+records+per+page&CMD=lccn+%20%20%2062005252%20), and she hadn't remembered the exact year but it looks right to her. Except that her fuzzy memories of undergrad days are stirred by the familiar print, and she remembers now with chagrin that what she really ought to be using is the later work, the multivolume one (http://catalog.loc.gov/cgi-bin/Pwebrecon.cgi?v1=1&hd=1,1&CallBrowse=3&SEQ=20070313182058&PID=21851&SID=4), and she'll be damned if she can even remember the name. "Fuck," she mutters, eyes scanning the nearby shelves.

Robin may be concerned with speaking like a nobleman. Chance, not so much.

Date: 2007-03-14 06:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
"Would have been?" Oh, Merlin, Evans, stop. She knew how this was going to end, knew with an absolute certainty what Robin was going to say. It shook her, made something cold clench in her stomach, and yet she couldn't seem to hold back the question, "What happened to her?"

Lily barely noticed when Chance took the book, her eyes hardly leaving Robin's face as the woman swore. Swallowing hard, Lily waited for the story: His fiancee or wife or lover dying, him left alone to move on. And Lily would understand it, far too well, and there would be sympathetic glances exchanged and she'd have to say something about James. She wished the bloke would surprise her, say that he'd caught the tart cheating and given her the boot, but somehow Lily felt she might be beyond surprises in this particular situation.

She knew the look Robin had been giving her. It made her throat ache with an unwelcome rush of familiarity. She knew how this story ended. And yet, she had to hear him say it. For all that she wished she'd never looked up from her studying, she now had to know. Perhaps it was out of respect for the dead, perhaps it was because someone had to remember those who'd left, but Lily's green eyes scanned Robin's face, jaw set, and waited to hear how the love of his life had died, too.

Date: 2007-03-14 10:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
Chance's focus has narrowed to the spines of books she's scanning. Hogwarts' system of shelving books has its own internal logic, and she's pretty sure what she wants ought not to be far from what she thought she wanted, even though she vaguely remembers having to go to different parts of the UAB library for them back in the day. "Here we go," she murmurs to herself or to the books, the Aarne-Thompson volume tucked under her arm so she has both hands free and she reaches for one of a set of six books (http://catalog.loc.gov/cgi-bin/Pwebrecon.cgi?Search_Arg=32027714&Search_Code=STNO&PID=12616&SEQ=20070314183018&CNT=25&HIST=1) nestled together, extricates it from its fellows, leafs through it a little.

She's completely oblivious to the little drama unfolding, her embarrassment for Robin and concern for Lily long since receded into the realm of the relatively unimportant. When she winces, it's not for their sake, either of them, but because the one she's chosen is volume 5, and her eyes have fixed on the heading Thompson saw fit to give Chapter N: Chance and Fate. She flips past that quickly, finds what she wants, Chapter Z. Miscellaneous Groups of Motifs.

Z200-Z299. Heroes.

Date: 2007-03-15 12:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
...

Lily stared at Robin. He wasn't the mourning husband. He was the dead spouse left behind. He wasn't Lily. He was James.

NO.

Shaking her head, Lily straightened up and backed away a step. "I don't understand." She tried to keep her voice steady, though there was a bit of a crack at the end. "I'm sorry."

She was reading too much into this. A breakup or a failed marriage or a million other scenarios would fit Robin's explanation. This was not a parallel to her situation, to the insane twists that her own life had taken. He was not James. She'd just been overly sensitive since she and Sirius had gotten together - trying to negotiate through the minefield of a new relationship with the baggage of their shared pasts - and now she was foisting her own point of view off onto this innocent bloke, who'd probably just come into the the library for a bit of quiet and to get some work done.

"I'm sorry," she said again with a laugh, waving her hand to dismiss her own discomfort. "Er, how can I help with the research?"

Date: 2007-03-15 03:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
Chance looks up from her book. She's laid down the Aarne-Thompson atop a row of shelved books, by now, and has been skimming through volume five of Thompson's Motif-Index to which her mun will stop trying to link, since the links keep expiring. "Yes and no," she says, almost abstractly. She's fully in academic mode now.

"We're looking for tales associated with Robin Hood. But, Robin, those tales aren't all about you. Some of them won't even have anything to do with you other than borrowing your name. Some of them might have originated in association with other people entirely, maybe not even real people. Maybe misrememberings or modifications of old stories remembered about gods or other heroes. That's what I'm hoping to show you here."

Date: 2007-03-15 05:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
((Rethreaded...))

Feeling like a complete heel for making Robin uncomfortable over her own personal issues, Lily returned his smile. Everything else she locked away tight, determined to not let it leak out again. Because...

Wait. Did he say Robin Hood? Like, arrows and Friar Tuck and Merry Men and all that? Merlin. Lily's eyes went wide and she struggled to think of something to say. "I'm in books, too."

Yeah that...had not been the intelligent conversation starter she'd been hoping for. Flushing slightly, Lily went on. "I mean, there are mentions of me in some books. In the Wizarding world. Mostly it's about my son, though. In any case, most of the facts are wrong." Which was what happened when all the witnesses were dead or thought guilty. "I wouldn't be surprised if most of the things written about you are less than true."

Right. That was enough babbling, now. Turning to Chance, Lily peered over the woman's shoulder. "What sorts of things are you finding?"

Date: 2007-03-15 08:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
"It's not just that the tales aren't going to be true," Chance says. "I need you to understand that before we start looking for anything with your name on it. Anything this distant in human history's going to be subject to distortions. Though, when you think about it, human history's so short," she adds parenthetically, used to thinking in terms of millennia, the stories rocks tell, what she's called deep time. "It's just our individual lives are even shorter, and we haven't got anything like an accessible collective memory, and records can so easily get lost -- well." She shrugs. "That's beside the point. This is the thing, Robin," she says, addressing him directly because that's who needs to hear this, though her body language when she turns to face them with the book in her hands includes Lily in her address as well.

"We want to make sense out of the things that happen to us -- things that don't always make sense on their own. So we try to give them a comprehensive narrative, give them names and faces that resonate with us." She turns the book so it's upside-down from where she stands, right-side-up for Robin and Lily, and holding it open with one hand, uses the index finger of the other hand -- thin finger, nail clipped blunt -- to point out entries.

†Z254. Destined hero. (Cf. †M311, †T22.) Irish myth: *Cross; Jewish: Neuman.
†Z292. Death of hero. Irish myth: Cross; Jewish: Neuman.

Flipping back a few pages:
†Z20. Cumulative tales.†1 Tales arranged in chains. (Kettenmärchen.) **Taylor JAFL XLVI 77ff.; *Types 2000--2199; Irish myth: *Cross; Spanish American: Boas JAFL XXV 219ff., 292f., Espinosa JAFL XXVII 222ff.; Indonesia: DeVries's list No. 316; cf. Nouvelles de Sens No. 31.

"Each of these entries takes you to a different book," she says, knowing it won't forestall puzzlement. This is the kind of reference you need to be taught how to use, and she herself hasn't used it in years, her mind trying to conjure images of the notes she'd taken for those anthro courses long ago. "There's a key to which abbreviation stands for which book. And every book denoted is a collection of stories from a different place in the world, or a different time, or both. Spain, Ireland, the Middle East. And the whole point of this reference, the Motif-Index of Folk Literature, is that the stories from all these different places and times have common threads. Common themes. The names of the people in them will differ, but the stories are by and large the same, in part or in whole. For some stories, researchers have traced the spread over time, trying to find that story's genesis, or at least the locality where it started. For some of them we'll never be able to know. And when a story gets adopted, it gets changed. Familiar heroes put in place of the foreign ones, for instance. Or it's just forgotten who the story used to be about. Or a political purpose is served by making it be about someone else. Any number of reasons, or maybe no reason at all."

Date: 2007-03-15 09:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
Lily nodded, already shedding her past awkwardness for the opportunity to learn a new area of study. "I've been studying mythology and found that quite often - regional tales, local twists to the same legend. And my friend, Robin Goodfellow, is a prime example of that. His people are the Pucks of ancient stories, but so much has gotten distorted through time." A faint smile flickered across Lily's face as she leaned over the book, her hair falling in a curtain across her cheek. "The benefit for Robin is, of course, he remembers all of that. So he can tell me what's true and what's not."

Laughing a little at Robin's words, Lily straightened up. "And thank Merlin for that. I can't tell you the useful information I've managed to pry from some Wizard or another through the promise of a smile and a pint. Useful during a war, that human tendency to tell tales. You just have to learn to cut through to the heart of the matter, the common truth."

Eyes studying Robin subtly, Lily then turned to Chance. "So these tales of Robin," she nodded toward the man, "that have been handed down are quite likely twisted to fit archetypes or local sensibilities or common threads of heroes, yeah? He was just the face put onto the legends."

Date: 2007-03-15 11:14 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
"Twisted to fit archetypes ...?" Chance repeats Lily's words with a little frown. "Twisted isn't an adequate word. What I'm trying to say is some of these stories may not even have anything to do with Robin other than that someone ... calqued his name on there. And the names of the people he knew, some of them, more than likely. The hero having a band of noteworthy companions, that's also a common motif."

She returns Robin's doubtful look with one that's not doubtful in the least, perhaps reassuring in that. If there's one thing Chance is good at, it's being professorial, even when she's not completely an expert herself. She started leading labs and field trips when she was still an undergrad herself, and never forgot what her profs told her then: Doesn't matter if you don't know everything about a given subject, you still know more than your students know, and that's what you're there for..

"That's exactly what I mean to tell you. Among other things. I need you to know that this isn't about you, Robin. It's about what the people who told these stories needed to believe. Or just what they found entertaining. And I think you're absolutely right to want to know what these stories are, given that people are going to have impressions of you based on stories they've read or heard. Because even if they know those stories can't be all true, they'll still have a mental image that's hard to shake. But I also think you'd be unwise to make anything more of these stories than that. And --" The smooth confident lecturer's voice faltering for a moment, Chance lapsing out of professor mode as she looks into his face, face she's spent hours telling her secrets to -- "I don't want these things to hurt you."

Date: 2007-03-19 05:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
It was strange how someone's world could narrow down to just one thought, one train of consciousness. How all the external noise could turn into a vague buzzing, letting that one phrase, one idea, rise in ugly block letters and dominate the mind's eye.

There was another after me.

Everything Chance said was lost. There had been another. With his face, living his life.

"This is not like James," she desperately tried to pull herself away from the image of someone else, someone not relevant to her life any longer. "This is not James, he is not James, this is not your life."

Eyes going to Robin's, searching for answers, Lily said, abruptly, "This other person, did people think he was you? Did he say he was you? And how did you know it, if you were dead? And how did you know she loved again?" All the questions spilled out of her, without provocation, without censor, and Lily visible winced when they shattered the tentitive peace they all three had created. Some part of her wished to apologize for them, to scramble to scoop them back out of sight, but she simply stood, stoically, and waited.

Date: 2007-03-19 11:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
About to voice another caveat, Chance holds her tongue. There isn't any point in warning him, not when he's determined to know, she should know that better than anyone because she's the same way, and she can see in his face that however he may be shaken by what they find, in the end he'll handle it.

He won't break, she thinks, and is reassured by that thought as much as by the brief stroke of fingers to her face, that curious intimacy that seems so natural from him she hasn't even questioned it.

Not that she hasn't been wrong about people before, and that rankles, but it's not going to stop her. And if he does break ... well, she warned him.

Lily's questions unsettle Chance as well, shattering the strange communion, and she turns to watch the woman practically come apart, and watch Robin relive again what he's relived for her already earlier that same day.

It's as painful to watch as it is to tell, and is this what it's like for people to talk to her? Raw as she is.

Fuck, Kleenex ought to hire us three as spokesmodels.

She nods to Lily, underscoring Robin's tale she's already heard. "People ... have to let go. Like you and I talked about before," she adds, mindful of that conversation she and Lily had about Sirius and James around the time Ofelia first came to Hogwarts.

Date: 2007-03-20 09:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lilypotter60.livejournal.com
It was the naked grief in Robin's eyes that did it. The raw longing and hurt that echoed something inside her own. Every wall she had, every barrier, was blown away and then hastily reconstructed in that moment.

Robin looked nothing like James. His voice wasn't similar, the cadence of his words wasn't even remotely the same. And yet, for a moment, James was all that Lily saw in front of her. Purposely closing her eyes, Lily set her jaw, forcing her face to remain impassive.

His wife had forced him to let her go so that she might be happy with someone else. A blind man could see the parallels to Lily's own situation. And while Lily held a firm belief that James would want her to move on, would tell her to move on, it didn't change the impact of being faced with a living, breathing example of the other side of the coin.

I'm so sorry. That echoed around her brain, and whether it was to Chance or Robin or James or even Sirius, she didn't know. But then it made it past her lips, a barely breathed, "I'm sorry," before Lily blinked, and focused on the two people standing in front of her.

Carefully schooling her features into something smooth and emotionless - though her eyes betrayed her, some deep guilt and grief in them - Lily swallowed hard, trying to get more words past the dryness in her mouth, the lump in her throat. "I just realized I have to be at work," she managed with a smile that barely curved her lips. "Please, excuse me. Robin, it was lovely to meet you. Chance, I'll chat with you later."

Turning, Lily all but fled the library, a quick summoning charm thrown over her shoulder sending her bag after her. She needed to go, to think, to clear her mind. Without conscious decision, her feet took her out towards the stables. A long ride, perhaps, in the cold wind would wipe away the sick knot of guilt and confusion in her stomach. At the least, she knew she wouldn't run into Sirius out on the moors. And for once, he was the last person Lily wanted to encounter.

Date: 2007-03-21 01:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
Chance remembers the things she's discussed with Lily. She doesn't know that Lily and Sirius are a couple now, but that's immaterial -- it's the way Lily feels about the man that matters, not whether it's reciprocated, Chance expects.

"You compared her to Marian. I think," Chance says slowly, "now she's probably comparing herself to Marian too."

She shrugs, and shelves vol. 5. She's shown him what she needed to show him in it. It's not the most logical place to start actual research on a specific single legend; it's geared toward comparative folklore work. "She'll get over it," she says, ever pragmatic. "And if she doesn't ... well, she can join the club." Not a little self-mockery in that.

A pause, as she tries to figure out how best to tell Robin You may want to work on being a little less ... intense ... in public. It's overwhelming to be the focus of that kind of attention, for a stranger, and for someone unused to it. Somehow the liminal space in which Chance met Robin made her open to that sort of interaction. The grounds are forested, they're more his element, and that probably helped too. She thinks if she'd met him in the library, or the common room, some commonplace indoors setting, it might have gone differently. She might have reacted more like Lily, instead of unfolding her mind to him.

She can't think of the words. She'll keep trying, but for now, she simply leads him into the stacks. Research now. Etiquette later.

Date: 2007-03-21 01:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
Chance gives it her best shot. "It's not that she wouldn't have been flattered at a surface comparison to someone you'd thought beautiful. It's that it's not the kind of comparison people these days would usually voice. For one thing. And us dead people -- well, we can be touchy, you know." She turns her head briefly to flash him an apologetic half-smile over her shoulder. "I probably should've made it clearer to her you're pretty much fresh from the Sorting Room. I was a mess for weeks after I got Sorted, and I needed ... a lot of help ... to put myself back together into some semblance of working order. Lily's had time here too, longer than I have, much longer I think."

She's lowered her voice to proper library volume as they walk -- well, maybe a wee bit louder than proper, since if she whispers, he won't be able to hear her. They have to walk single file through the stacks.

Date: 2007-03-21 01:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
Chance stops and turns to face Robin. "It's not that you did something wrong," she says. "Don't think that." The dissonances of his Sorting, and now this -- he must be feeling very much out of place indeed. She lays a light hand on his arm, trying to reassure. "There are lots of people here from different time periods, and they've all got different standards. You've already met Professor Maturin, I expect -- he's a piece of work, from the 19th century. And then there's people from the far future, one of whom is now Professor Maturin's wife. We're from all over the map, chronologically, in terms of human history." And she has to remind herself that that's far-flung from a human perspective, even if in evolutionary terms it's nothing.

"There's nothing for me to forgive," she says firmly. "There's just different ways of doing things. I'll help you figure it out as best I can." It's the least she can do for him, given what he's done for her. "Look, maybe this isn't the best time for research. You look like you could use a drink. I could introduce you to the little blue men who live in the bar. Now there's culture shock for you."

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