Disclaimer: Same as always (unfortunately) I own nothing but the plot :(
Author's Note: Okay, so guess what? I'm branching out again - this is the first thing I've ever written for a competition! It's for the As Lovers Go Contest over at HPFC, but once again (I really must give thanks to TheRavenclawNinja) my inspiration came from a quote from the Oscar Wilde Challenge. Anyways, I'm quite nervous about this, so I really would appreciate any feedback you'd be willing to give :) Thanks, and enjoy! :)
You know, the great Oscar Wilde (he's a muggle writer, by the way) once said:
"Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship."
And I, Lily Evans, think he was right.
It wasn't always that way. In my 7th year especially, I would have argued with Wilde himself that he was wrong, that friendship between a boy and a girl most certainly was possible. As long as the boy had deflated his head a bit. You know, had finally gotten down off his high-broomstick, stopped messing up his ridiculously untidy hair, cursing people just for the heck of it, and generally being a bit of a prat.
And, I suppose, if a certain hot-tempered redhead had given him a bit of a chance to prove himself (not that he'd ever given her any reason to!) and stopped jumping to conclusions about him quite so quickly. Although in my defense...
Ughh. Never mind.
So anyway, I would've argued with Wilde. If he'd been alive that is. And a wizard. And had just happened to show up at Hogwarts. Still, technicalities.
The point is, I would have happily told said Mr Wilde that I myself had a friendship with a boy, and that I liked his friendship. Just his friendship, nothing more.
I assume you all know what boy I'm talking about, but just in case you're really behind on the times, I'll spell it out for you:
J-A-M-E-S P-O-T-T-E-R.
That spells James Potter, by the way.
Don't get me wrong, there had definitely been emnity between us as well. And passion, I suppose, in the form of anger. I guess he kind of worshipped me, and I know that I loved to hate him.
But when we matured (well, when he did, mainly - I've never been that childish) all of that faded. I saw James for who he really was: a kind, caring, funny guy. Still with incredibly messy hair, but hey. You can't win them all.
And even that kind of grew on me, to be honest. Because it became part of the new him - not the Potter that I'd hated, but the James that I liked.
So we grew closer - he stopped pestering me, and I stopped insulting him. And anyone around us would have stated, on the record, that we were most definitely friends. Good friends.
But I'm not stupid. I know what you're thinking: If James and I became such good friends, why in the name of Merlin did I say that I agreed with Oscar Wilde's views on the male/female relationship?
Well, just hold your horses. I'm coming to that.
So like I said, James changed, I changed...and I thought we were friends.
Turns out, I was wrong.
Yes, I admitted it. It doesn't happen often, believe me, but on that one point...I was just so wrong.
Because the first time James Potter's lips ever touched my own, on a snowy day in a crowded pub in Hogsmeade, I knew we weren't just friends. His lips were soft and gentle against mine; his hands light as a whisper as they caressed my face and hair, and I knew then that we had never, ever, ever been just friends.
Between us, there had only been surpressed passion, feigned enmity, hidden worship (well, for my part, anyway), and, my heart had realised with a flutter...
True love.
A/N: So there you have it. Please review! :)