Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter. You guys already know that, so why am I even telling?
xxx
Hey, you,
The girl sitting in the opposite boat, looking at that tower like coming home. In fifteen minutes, you will slip on the first step and I will catch you. You won't fall for me then.
You were never that easy.
...
"Hello", James smirks, lips tilted confidently. His hands are wrapped around her waist, but he is at the age where a good joke is more impressive than 24 inches.
"Do you know what rhymes with it?", Lily enquires.
He starts frowning at the non sequitur when she answers her own question.
"Hell no."
He never even stood a chance.
...
In five years, seven months and twenty two days, we'd talk. Properly, that is.
You, of galaxies, of how to stop time at 11:11 and make lies come true. And I, of anything but, of how heart runs on touching skin.
We'd drink Firewhisky that I smuggled in, in delicate china cups you stole from your mum. Our breaths would mix over immoral goods and our fate will be sealed.
...
Lily likes her hand on James's chest, her head on his shoulder and breathing in his Cigarette-Musk-Rich-Boy smell. She bites his neck as a tribute to younger days, when Vampires and Werewolves were romantic figures- inspiring millions to yearn for true love.
"We need to go, Evans", he breaths out.
"A minute more", she murmurs. Her fingers are almost touching his hips now.
He swears, his head thumping on the wall behind him
"Take it. A minute, an hour, a lifetime. Take mine."
Lily laughs. "So dramatic these days. What would Sirius do if you take his job?"
"Probably give me pointers on how to do it better", James answers truthfully.
...
In Six years, one month and 30 days, our eyes would meet across the hall. And when they do, you'd do that thing of yours and I'll do mine. Your ring finger shrugging that single strand of hair across your shoulder. And I, well, I will be making my towards exit while my thoughts stay with you.
...
Lily chases after him for the first time in her life. Almost at the end of stairs, she slips. Two steady hands support her and suddenly she is traveling back in time.
"Hello", James whispers. That stupid smirk remains unchanged.
"Are you here to whisk this damsel away on your white horse, kind Sir?'
"Damsels like you hate being manhandled", he replies, " and besides, I prefer my broomstick."
"But what about all the promises you have made? The white wedding, the novel love, exotic trips and happily ever afters!" she pouts mockingly, echoing words of a fifteen years old James.
With fake affront, he straightens his back and says, "I have matured, you see. I now know the difference between fairly tales and reality."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I will give you something better, Evans. I will give you 'until the very end'."
Lily pounces.
...
So you see? A lifetime from now- ten years, one month, thirty days- you and I will meet. And we'd kiss. And we'd say a million I-love-yous, one for every second, sometimes two.
And 11:11 would stop. It would.