A/N: hi! it's James Potter's birthday today, and this has been sitting on my computer for a while. so in honor of James Potter the bamf's day of birth, I wanted to post this.
Hope you enjoy!
Afraid to Fly
When I was younger, I had a purple bicycle. It was nothing special, a normal, standard bicycle painted the stereotypical girly-lilac. It wasn't enchanted to do anything, and a now-dead relative didn't give it to me. Just a pile of metal.
But I loved it. I loved that bicycle.
I used to love riding it down the paved streets, until I got to the paved hill that lead down, away from Spinner's End.
That's one of my clearest memories from life before magic. But then I met Sev and this whole other world swallowed me up, and I forgot everything from then.
I would peddle that little bike as fast as I could, past the dreary houses that all looked the same, all the way until the hill.
And then I let myself fall.
The bike would almost fly down the hill, and I thought I would pick up off the ground if I hit the hill fast enough.
And in those few moments of me flying down the hill, my hair blowing behind me, wind making my eyes water… I felt like I was flying.
Of course, I came to Hogwarts, and then found that I wasn't actually flying. That flying was hard, and required the skill and balance that I did not possess.
But in that moment, I remember feeling so incredibly, deliriously happy that I could just burst.
The fact that I could not remember the last time I genuinely smiled made me feel a strong urge to cry.
"Lily?" John's voice says, shaking me from my thoughts.
"Yes John?"
"Are you alright?" He asks, mildly concerned.
"Yes, of course, I'm fine." I say, plastering on another fake smile.
He seems content with this, and changes the subject.
"So, we're going to Hogsmeade this weekend, right?" He asks, rummaging in his bag for something.
"I wish I could fly." I whisper to myself.
"Hmm?"
I'm about to repeat it, but I don't really think he'll understand. So I just close my mouth, and say something else.
"Nothing. Never mind, it's stupid. So, Hogsmeade?" I say.
He smiles, and kisses me on the cheek.
And I smile blankly automatically.
Sitting in the nearly empty stands alone is a strange experience. During a Quidditch game, there are always hoards of people, screaming and yelling and moving about.
But during a practice on a Wednesday afternoon, there's almost no one here. And the players are so far up in the sky; you can't hear what they're saying.
And you sit, in an almost audible silence. I watch the players carefully, as they glide smoothly through the sky.
They're bunched up in a huddle in the air now, and the charcoal-color haired captain is discussing what I assume to be a new play.
The team goes through many plays, spinning and diving through the air. It's a mystery to me how they even stay upright when they're throwing and catching like that.
Time passes, and the rest of the team meanders off the pitch, dragging their brooms and laughing about something one of the Beaters, Black, said.
But he stays.
He turns and watches the rest of them leave, before mounting his broom again and flying into the sky.
He starts off just practicing throwing the Quaffle into the various hoops, with ease. But then he starts playing around, and ends up racing around in circles.
I watch him intently. He flies hard and fast, doing flips every so often. He swoops down close to the ground, and then up into the sky, until I can barely see his dark silhouette amongst the puffy white clouds. he seems to swim through the air, like he was born to do it. Born to fly.
I sit here, contemplating this, and when I look up again he's gone.
A few moments pass of me, squinting into the sky, looking for his form. And then I hear footsteps next to me.
"Evans! What are you doing here?" James says, striding up to me. His hair is still windswept, and he's still in his captain's Quidditch robes. His broom sits firmly in his grasp, and he smiles crookedly at me.
I smile back.
"Watching the team practice." I say. "I was also watching you fly around after."
"Impressed?" He says arrogantly, falling down onto the bench next to me, letting his arms spread out.
"Yeah." I say honestly.
"Wow Evans. I never thought I'd see the day. You're impressed by something I did?" He says, sitting up and staring at me with disbelief.
I giggle a little bit. I don't know why, I never giggle. But lately, around him, the light laughter just spills out of my mouth.
"I'm jealous actually." I hear myself say.
He looks at me with a puzzled look.
"I can't fly."
"What do you mean?" He asks.
I just shake my head again. "I can't fly." I say, shrugging.
"Why not?" He asks seriously. He scoots closer to me, and I can feel the hairs on my arm prickle.
I don't know why, whenever he's around, my body seems to sense it.
"I'm afraid." I say in a tiny voice. Part of me can't believe I'm telling him this, but part of me thinks that he's probably the only person that won't brush it off.
"Afraid? Of what?" He asks.
I tilt my head up, and stare at the beautiful blue sky above me.
"To fall. I know I would fall." I say airily.
"You wouldn't fall." He scoffs.
I look back down at him. "See, that's just it." I say. "I wouldn't actually fall. I mean, maybe I would, but that's not the point. The point is… I'm afraid. Because I can't think of a single soul that would care enough to catch me."
And it feels really good to say out loud. Yes, it sounds cliché and stupid. But it's the truth, and as soon as I say it, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
He turns his face directly toward me, and I see his eyes lock with mine.
"I would catch you." He says. I feel like the statement should sound like a joke, should sound like something off a greeting card. But when he says it, when he's looking at me that way… I feel like I believe him.
He holds up his broom and smiles that beautiful crooked smile again. "Want a ride?"
My eyes flick down to the piece of wood his hand is wrapped around.
Do I trust him?
And I know almost immediately.
Yeah. I do.
I nod my head slowly, and he grabs my hand and starts walking down onto the pitch.
His hand feels rough in mine, and I feel electric sparks run up my body. I don't understand it, but I don't want it to stop.
We get down to the grass, and he looks back at me.
"Ready, Evans?"
The familiarity of my last name in his voice and the laughing smile that's paired with it makes my pounding heart swell.
Gingerly, I straddle the broom, and he gets on behind me. His body slides up close to mine, and I can feel his chest on my back. His arms snake from under my arms, and his large hands grip the broom in front of me, holding us both on steadily.
"Hold on." He whispers from behind me, and chills shoot up my back.
The broom picks up into the air.
Wind rushes through my hair, my trembling hands grip the end of the broom in front of me. My heart is pounding.
And I'm terrified and excited and giddy all at the same time…
And I feel it. I'm smiling. I'm smiling and laughing and I'm nine years old again. James is behind me, his warm body close up next to mine, and laughing too.
I look back.
He's sitting, holding the broom firmly and staring at me, face molded into a genuine smile. His glasses are slightly askew, falling off his face in a wonderfully relaxed manner. His untamable hair blows around haphazardly in the wind.
My hands brush his in a subconscious quest to grip the broom before I fall off. I feel electric tingles climb up my spine again.
He flies us around the pitch a couple times, around the goal posts, and then up in the sky. My eyes water at the rushing air, but I keep them open. I feel the air mold around us, and we're gliding between the clouds, in the beautiful light of the day.
When we get back on the ground, I'm still laughing. I stumble off the broom, clutching my chest.
"God, that was amazing." I blurt out. James dismounts and comes walking over to where I've stumbled to.
He chuckles. "Glad you enjoyed it."
I'm still a little unsteady, and I feel myself fall backwards. A strong hand shoots out and grips my forearm, pulling me back up to a standing position.
James is smiling a smile I can't quite read. "Told you I'd catch you."
The smile he's giving me has me gulping for air as he gets closer to me. No one else has ever made me feel like this.
And to be totally and completely honest, it terrifies me.
"Thanks for teaching me how to fly." I croak with an unsteady voice. He steps closer to me.
"You're welcome." He says in a rough tone of voice. His hand comes up and touches my arm, making me shiver.
He steps once more, closing the gap between us.
My heart feels like it's pounding out of my chest, and I gulp. His hands ghost up my arms, and I feel his body press against mine.
I'm scared. I'm scared of how he makes me feel this way. He has my heart in his hands.
His face inches closer to mine, and I study him closely. His eyes, his beautiful hazel eyes that I could stare into for hours. His hair, his wonderfully messy hair that I'd give anything to run my fingers through. His lips… his nose… his voice, his chest, his hands…
Just… him.
His face is right up next to mine now, and his eyes are staring into mine. I feel myself losing my resolve, losing grip…
"Come on Lily." His lips murmur next to mine. "Fall."
And I do.
My lips touch his, and my heart combusts into a million pieces. His lips, those soft, pink lips glide against mine, in a rhythm that I seem to know by heart. His hands thread through mine, and I know they'll never look the same again without his in them. And I press my body up against him, because we seem to fit together like puzzle pieces.
And for the first time since I gave up my little purple bicycle, I'm flying.
And I'm not afraid to fall anymore.
Because… I know.
He'll be there to catch me when I do.