A/N:The prologue is set at the end of their sixth year, when James receives a particularly nasty detention from Filch and is forced to go down to the dungeons, where he finds Lily waiting for him. Don't worry, she doesn't kill him or anything. That would mean no story! But she's not pleased. And now I won't spoil anything else; promise.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I am not rich enough to be J. K . Rowling.
Prologue
"You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul."
-Julie de Lespinasse
"I trusted you." His blood ran cold. He knew that voice like he knew the back of his hand. But why was its owner here? And why was it so icy, hard, devoid of any emotion? "I trusted you. Merlin I was so stupid." She turned towards him, the flickering candlelight distorting her features slightly in the dim room. "You lied."
"Lily," he whispered, edging closer to her shaking frame. The pain in her eyes was clearly visible, although the rest of her face was a carefully concealed mask. But she had never been able to hide her emotions from him; her eyes always gave her away. He watched her carefully as she stared off into the distance, deliberately ignoring him. Faint irritation welled up inside of him, but he knew that this was a waiting game and he wasn't going to crack.
"I honestly thought you had changed."
"I have! I promise."
She turned to stare incredulously at him. "You promise? It's a little late for promises. You used me, James Potter, and don't you dare promise me things that won't come true." Her voice had grown steadily louder, until she was screaming the words at him.
"Why do you even care?" he yelled as he gave in to temptation and the ball of anger in the pit of his stomach exploded. "It's not like we were together; not like there was anything going on between us. We were just two people trying to get along and obviously it didn't work!" Shit. He hadn't meant to say that, but Merlin, no one could rile him up like Lily Evans. The hurt look that flashed across her features was quickly transformed into a disgusted sneer.
"Lily I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"
"I wonder whose fault that was," she cut across sarcastically. "You make me sick, Potter, parading round as if you own the place, treating girls like disposable objects that can be thrown away whenever you feel like it." In her rage she had moved closer to him, until they were only inches apart. Some small, irrelevant part of his brain registered that even in anger, she was absolutely beautiful. He decided to keep that little bit of information to himself, however, in case she hexed him. His lapse in attention had gone entirely unnoticed by the witch, who had worked herself up into such a state of fury that she was barely coherent.
"I can't believe I was so naive as to actually think that the James Potter had grown up and stopped acting like a mindless idiot. And now I look like a stupid little fool because your head is stuck so far up your own backside that you think you can do whatever you want, no strings attached." She laughed mirthlessly. "Merlin forbid James Potter should actually have feelings."
Rage clouded his vision as she brushed past him, evidently assuming that because she had said her piece they were done. But he wasn't finished with her yet. Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist, whirling her round to face him.
"Don't touch me, Potter," she snarled, and he winced at the venom in her voice. He had forgotten what it was like when the full force of her fury was unleashed on him.
"Who do you think you are, Evans?" he demanded fiercely, his hazel eyes flashing. "Don't tell me you're so perfect that my actions are completely ungrateful? You act like you're some angel who can do no wrong, and the rest of us aren't good enough to kiss your bloody feet, because we've made a few mistakes. You refuse to see how selfish and cowardly you are, and to be honest, I'm finding it hard to see why you were put in Gryffindor." His last words were spoken with a deliberate slowness that pierced her like millions of deadly knives.
As much as she hated to admit it, his words had gotten to her, and self doubts that usually hid in the darkest recesses of her mind came creeping to the front. She hated him with an intensity and a passion that she had never thought herself capable of. And so she did the only thing she could think to do: she tore out his heart and shredded it into millions of tiny pieces.
"I hate you," she choked out vehemently, tears of fury and pain intermingling as they cascaded down her cheeks in gushing waterfalls and dripped off the end of her freckled nose. "I hate you so much. You made my life hell for years, James Potter, and just when you had me convinced that you were a decent person, I discovered who you really are. A part of me still refuses to believe the truth, is still determined to believe that you're not a complete bastard; and it's killing me because I know it was all a lie. So you have no right to tell me that my life is perfect when I know far too well that it's anything but." She trailed off, breathing heavily, and he took the opportunity to speak. All of his anger seemed to have disappeared, leaving him with an empty, hollow feeling inside.
"I never meant to hurt you," he whispered brokenly, as she attempted to leave for the second time that night. This time, he made no move to stop her. "I loved you, you know." She paused at that, turning away so that her face was hidden from him.
"For all I know, that could just be part of another bet."
