Chapter Text
“Mankind was not absolutely alone among the conscious things of earth, for shapes came out of the dark to visit the faithful few.”
― H. P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu
Later, it would be said that they were man and woman, the perfect compliment to one another. It was said that the purpose of creating Lilith at all was to provide Adam with a counterpart. A helpmeet. It was insulting, honestly.
And it was all lies.
The only thing that Adam had over Lilith was that he’d been created a moment before, both of them formed from the clay of the earth. Besides that brief moment, they were the same, from their broad backs and small breasts to their narrow waists, the slight jut of their hips and their long, strong legs. Both of them had everything necessary to produce offspring without help. The book of Genesis says: “to the image of God he created him: male and female he created them.” It had never meant what they thought it meant.
What it really meant: both of them were male and female; both of them a world unto itself.
Adam and Lilith were names given them after the fact. Their original names were in a tongue long dead, and neither name was gendered, because gender did not exist.
They were to be companions, yes. They were to provide one another with company, with friendship, with affection, with sex. Only it didn’t turn out the way it was supposed to.
Adam was a jealous wanker, with a competitive streak a mile long. Adam became furious whenever Lilith called dibs on naming one of the animals (as if there was a shortage of new creatures to name). Adam scoffed at Lilith’s suggestion that they clothe themselves in garments made of leaves, saying Lilith was ashamed of the Maker’s good works. But Lilith was not ashamed; Lilith simply thought the leaves looked beautiful draped over their bronzed skin. Adam refused to speak to Lilith for days when Lilith came up with a design for shelter and built it without Adam’s help or input. “Build your own right next to mine,” Lilith had said. Adam only scowled.
Adam became angrier and angrier and then committed the ultimate betrayal. One day, when The Maker visited (and Lilith was off gathering food for supper), Adam whined that Lilith was not a suitable companion. Too aggressive, Adam said. Too headstrong. Too independent. Soon, Lilith will leave me and strike out alone; I’m sure of it.
When Lilith returned, it was to find Adam with a new companion, this one called Eve. Eve was smaller, more slender, with a dramatic dip at her waist and large breasts. She had no stick between her legs like Lilith and Adam did. She was a she; the first she. Lilith hated her.
Lilith hated Adam more.
Adam was also different. Adam no longer had ovaries, for one thing. Only one hole for another, and no tits. Adam was a he, now, and Lilith wanted to strangle him.
“The Maker formed me from one of Adam’s ribs,” Eve said, smirking at Lilith. “I’m his new helpmeet.”
“Ugh,” Lilith said. “You can have him. I’m leaving.”
And with that, Lilith walked out of the Garden to explore the world.
It was lonely for a long time. But then, Eve crossed The Maker in a move of pure idiocy involving fruit of all things, and Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden on their asses. By then, they had lots of little Adams and Eves running about.
Some of their spawn were interesting. Lilith would’ve thought they’d all have been jealous wankers like Adam and simpering idiots like Eve, but that wasn’t true. They were all different. Some were intolerable, but some were pleasant. Some were downright fascinating, and Lilith made sure to take those rare jewels to bed.
Soon, there were little Liliths running about, too. Lilith rejoiced at the sight of the offspring, reveling in how much stronger they were than Adam and Eve’s.
Because Eve, it seemed, had no magic. It was part of the agreement, apparently. Adam had begged The Maker for a helpmeet that would not leave him, that would be dependent on him. As a result, she had no penis and no magic. Really, it was a shitty deal; Lilith almost felt sorry for her.
So, over time, Adam and Eve’s offspring became less and less powerful, while Lilith’s were all strong. Lilith wondered if The Maker hadn’t left her (she was slowly beginning to think of herself as a her, since she often bore her own children – they turned out stronger that way) with more magic on purpose, as a sort of apology for the whole thing with Eve.
Regardless, Lilith was happy, and over time, the offspring of Adam and Eve began to entreat her for protection and for favors and for rain and for everything-under-the-sun. It was nice to be worshipped.
Adam and Eve died eventually (good riddance), and their offspring died even faster. Lilith was the only one who lasted. She lived and she lived, and she saw generations come and go.
She began to toy with Earth Magic, hoping that she might make more creatures like her. Creatures free of mortality. She succeeded, and these were called Lilu by the others. Lilu, the offspring of Lilith.
It wasn’t Lilith who first came up with the idea to enter another person’s body. It was Lagamar, one of her eternal descendants. In fairness to Lagamar, they’d done it to be closer to the girl they loved. It was romantic, really. And they loved being in her human shell together, as close as two people could be.
Only then, after Lilith and the others like her had followed suit, and inhabited the bodies of their lovers, they discovered a problem - a rather serious one: their corporeal selves had withered and died while they had been elsewhere. None of them had their own bodies anymore.
There were plenty of bodies around, but those bodies died of old age, which was a problem, and there was also the small matter of those bodies already having occupants.
Lilith was not happy with the current state of affairs, and deeply mourned the loss of her eternal body. So deeply. It had been a good one; she still thought about it all the time.
But she made do, slipping into interesting people, always ones with leftover traces of magic if she could help it. They weren’t always happy to be housing her, but they usually came around. In the end, she wasn’t doing anything they didn’t really want, deep down, although they claimed not to want it.
Things continued in this way until she slipped from Tobias Abbott (or, rather, was forced to leave thanks to a wholly unpleasant ritual situation) and into Pericles Longbottom. And then that fucking Council of Mages managed to strand her in Bardo (what Harry called the in-between).
It was the most awful thing imaginable. Time seemed to stand still all around her. There was nothing to do, nowhere to roam. Occasionally, people would wind up there, but their physical state was always so fragile that they finished dying before she could hop a ride back to the world of the living.
But then Harry came along. Beautiful Harry, with his pulsing magic and his young, strong body, and she knew he was the one for her.
And then there was Draco. Sweet Draco!
Draco, the coward; Draco who had turned on her. The thought made her clench her fists in rage.
For a while, she thought she might be truly happy in a body for the first time in forever. Harry’s power was magnificent – stronger than any she’d encountered in ages – and Draco was a perfect lover for her, pliable and moldable, soft and too broken to fight. And yet, despite his weakness, his magic was substantial. Not so powerful as Harry’s, but powerful enough.
Only Draco had proved her wrong. He’d betrayed her and had shown himself to be much more of a fighter than she’d thought (and much more loyal to Harry, for reasons she couldn’t quite comprehend – she was obviously the better catch). Draco had fought her and left her here in this fucking tunnel, to wither away until she caught another ride.
And yet, there was reason to rejoice. Because she’d planted a seed in Draco, a seed that was part Lilith, part Harry, and part Draco. It was an intriguing combination. The offspring would be the strongest thing the world had seen since the beginning, she could feel it. Perhaps it would seek her. Find her. Bring her back. Perhaps it would be her new companion and help her make new creatures that would never die.
Or not. Perhaps it would be another weakling and would forget her like all the rest had forgotten her.
Who could tell? There were so many ways it could go.
But one didn’t live as long as Lilith without learning to be patient. So, she was patient. She demanded information about Draco and Harry from the people who found their way to the in-between, and otherwise, she waited.