Okay, this tiny little plot sort of sprouted into my head when I was playing an intense soccer game, which we happened to win. I find that very strange because normally in a game, I fail to think about anything other than scoring and generally kicking ass, you know?
I'm thinking at least 5-7 chapters, but at this point, I'm not entirely sure how this'll turn out. Reviews are warmly welcomed and greatly advised because they make me want to write more!
Disclaimer: everything remains in the grasp of the always wonderful J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 1 – Doe, A Deer, A Female Deer
I read "sorry, try again" off the inside of a muggle bottle cap; story of my life.
Maybe next time, you did your best, at least you tried.
All these things are supposed to make me feel better, but it just reminds me that no matter how hard I try, how I gave it my all, I fail.
When I got on a broom in 1st year, I did an impressive roll that ended up resulting in a sprained wrist. Sorry, try again. I have not sat down on a broom since and nor will I, well, ever.
My first potions class ever ended up being a disaster. It's a lucky thing I survived the humiliating ten minute walk to the hospital wing to re-grow my eyebrows. Sorry, try again.
I had a boyfriend for most of the summer before 6th year and a week before I left for Hogwarts, he approached me one day and simply told me that there was somebody else and that this had been 'fun'. Sorry, try again.
It's my final year here at Hogwarts and I'm terribly afraid of stepping out into the real world and seeing it flash across everything, every situation I find myself coming upon: sorry, try again, sorry, try again, sorry, try again.
"Am I interrupting?"
I lower my wand warily, cursing the day I gave Alice the password to the Head Tower. I only did it in retaliation because I had walked in one day to find James' fellow Marauders – Sirius, Remus and pudgy Peter – sprawled out on one of our couches waiting patiently for him to get back from tutoring. James had told them the password, so why couldn't I tell Alice?
The answer to that question was simple – that would mean Alice could barge in and be pesky in my life when sometimes I really, really wanted to be alone.
"I guess not," I say leisurely, even though she is. "I'm practicing 'Expecto Patronum'. Once again, my life sucks and I can't get it right."
"Lily," Alice begins fairly, tilting her head as I swish my wand this way and that, producing sparks, "you're brilliant at Charms."
"True, but this is Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm not so into defense or the Dark Arts, so naturally, I fail."
She looks at me blankly, summing me up. "Ahhh," Alice says suddenly, holding up her index finger smartly. "You're going through another bout of self-loathing!"
That's not exactly what I would call it.
"Frustration! Self-frustration!"
Alice crosses the room and sits down primly on my bed, crossing her legs and linking her hands in front of one knee. "Alright, well, show me yours."
"What's that saying; I'll show you mine if you show me yours? I already told that fifth year Ravenclaw, I'm taken and as straight as a – "
"Lily!" Alice interjects, flapping her hands at me to stop. "Your Patronus! Show me your bloody Patronus."
"Oh." I blush, fiddling with my wand before straightening up slightly and pointing my wand directly at my dresser. What it did, I'm not sure, but it's been the subject of my wrath for nearly every spell I've needed to practice in private.
"Expecto Patronum!"
For a moment, there's a tuft of silvery smoke from the tip of my wand but it pathetically disappears not a moment later. I glare at my dresser – because it's there and I need something to direct my frustration at – as Alice remains quiet on my bed.
I suck. I suck brutally.
"What happy memory are you thinking of?"
I look down at my fingers which are loosely grasping my wand, my chipped off and angular nail polish seriously neglected which reminds me to do them later tonight. "Petunia and I used to go to this playground when we were little, and I'd start swinging and then I'd let myself leap off and I'd glide through the air. The feeling I got when doing that – I'm using that."
Alice is silent for another moment and I take that time to filter through my nail polish collection in my head to find a suitable color. I know I should care more than I'm not mastering this charm, this rather useful spell that could come in handy during these hectic times in the wizarding world. But really, if I ever come face to face with a Dementor, I'm pretty sure I'd be too busy shatting my knickers to remember my wand is within reach.
"Is this the same park that Severus snuck up on you at?"
I blink, looking up at her. She stares back.
"Well… yeah. Are you going to say something about how subconsciously the memory isn't really a good one because it has to do with Snape and I've had a rough past with him and I hate his guts now and all that?" I ask tiredly, seeing the gaping holes in my so-called 'happy memory'.
I guess I never really thought hard about the real meaning of the memory and how it relates to life now.
Snape and I haven't spoken in years and he's chillin' with the future Death Eaters and I could care less about him now and the moments we had together in the past… except I sort of miss having that best friend relationship. Alice and I are extremely good friends and I can and will tell her anything and everything, but with Sev it was different. He seemed to understand better.
Maybe because he felt like an outcast in this world too.
"I don't know whether I would have said it so... bluntly, but yes."
I try several more times, searching my mental file cabinet for memories that evoke happiness and warmth and a general feel-good sort of sensation.
Getting my acceptance letter, seeing Hogwarts approaching in the distance for the first time, getting recognition from Professor Slughorn in front of the entire class (which included those slimy Syltherins), befriending Alice, exploring Hogsmeade for the first time, learning I was going to Head Girl, falling in love, seeing James conducting a Quidditch practice with ease, kissing him in an alcove when we're really supposed to be patrolling, the feeling of his glasses against my cheek, the comfort of being wrapped in his arms… James.
He's made things so much more trouble-free. Whenever I get stressed about exams or the future or our future, he leaps over any objects between us and gathers me in his arms and presses kisses to my face, telling me that everything would be fine, he'd be there, we were going to be okay.
Just being with him is easy, the way we are so used to each other now. His friends, my friends, it's all the same now. We're together and I berate myself for not searching through the thickness and mischief in our earlier years; maybe, just maybe, there had been something there that wasn't visible to me.
And then it comes to me just as easily as the whole 'being together' thing. The answer to my Patronus predicament, the answer to the question I have been asking myself at night when I can't sleep, when I can't think of anything but James and those devilishly good looks and his wild, soft hair that I love to run my fingers in and mess up even more.
"Lily?"
I see Alice start to rise off my bed, a worried expression on her round face, but I shake my head simply at her. I'm okay, better than okay. So much more than okay.
I'm in love.
Heart thumping madly in my chest and the certain sensation that I'm about to keel over in a dead faint, I raise my wand again and close my eyes tightly. Everything James is flooding my head; the way he smiles at me from across a classroom, his wink, the concern in those hazel eyes when he knows – just knows – that something's wrong, his confidence, his delightful humor and how it makes me laugh endlessly, his lips…
"Expecto Patronum!" I shout with confidence, vigor, almost excitement.
The burst of light that erupts from the tip of my wand make the sun's rays look pitiful; I hear Alice shriek a little as I laugh, just laugh, shielding my eyes slightly as they try to focus on the moving light that is forming, becoming something, my Patronus.
It's a doe, gleaming and curious right there in the middle of my bedroom. She's beautiful, the way her head turns slightly at the sound of Alice scrambling up into a seated position, those big lashes that flutter when she blinks in my direction, locking her gaze with mine. I inhale sharply, amazed and yet perplexed at the same time.
We stare at eachother for some time and it's surreal to know that in some sense, that is a part of me, a piece of my soul, my identity, my personality.
"Lily." Alice's voice is wobbly and I take my eyes momentarily off my Patronus to see her smiling widely. "Do you know what this means?"
"I think so," I answer optimistically, watching the doe for another second before I sigh. "Thinking about him caused that to happen." I gesture to the glimmering animal that seems to be evaporating before our eyes. Soon enough, the doe disappears, fades away, leaving my vision spotty.
Alice rises to her feet, walking straight up to me and grasping my upper arms tightly in her hands. "Lily Evans, do you realize – "
"Merlin's beard, Alice, I know," I say crossly, rolling my eyes. "I know."
"Well then go, you barmy woman, go!"
--
His practice has to be near finish, my mind reasons with me after producing my Patronus ten times just so that I know I can do it.
As I traipsed down the staircase and through the cozier, smaller version of the Gryffindor common room, I hurdle a stacked pile of pillows that seemed to have formed some sort of fort. Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, I am going to mutilate the both of you tomorrow.
"Lily? Where are you going?"
I blow past Remus, who looks just as bewildered as the rest of the students I've sped past.
"Can't talk, Lupin!" I call back energetically, waving at him. "I've got something I need to do!"
I jump down the remainder of the staircase – five stairs jumped, a new record for me – and bolt my way through the entrance hall until I slam shoulders into somebody by pure accident, but realizing who exactly I've run into it doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore. My apology is lost somewhere in my throat.
"Christ, Mrs. Potter, you nearly ran me straight over. I see the headline tomorrow morning, whispers traveling across the Great Hall at breakfast – Sirius Black run over my bulldozer Lily Evans, killed instantly, resembles pancake – can you imagine the mayhem?"
"The only people who would care are your little fan club, Black," I bite back, smiling in satisfaction. "Now move," I command, pushing past him roughly causing him to give an outcry in protest. "Oh shove it; I have more important things on my mind. Me trampling on your big toe comes last."
I can still hear him swearing and shouting after me, but it blends into what Joelle is saying as I run past her.
"LILY! LILY, I NEED YOU TO LOOK OVER THE GRADUATION CEREMONY SEATING PLANS… LILY!"
Can these people not bloody realize that I am in no mood, no mood AT ALL, to communicate with them? Generally when somebody rushes past you at top speed it's because they have somewhere to be and generally you understand and don't get in the way.
Holy moly, who knew the Quidditch pitch was so far away?
There are some figures zooming around in the air above the pitch, I can see them clearly through the early evening light, but some are also leaving the pitch through the opening.
I can so imagine James punishing members of his team who were lazy and didn't seem to care that the championship is in exactly a week. I am willing to bet my own wand that those are the kids doing lap after lap against the sky backdrop.
"Evans!"
I turn to see a girl – 6th year, Mary? Cassie? – exiting the pitch with another boy, Marcus, I think.
"Yes?" I call back, slowing down just slightly because she seems to look slightly exasperated.
"Please don't go in there. You distract the poor guy enough during the day; let him conduct the rest of his practice in peace."
I sputter for a moment, "That's – I – what are you… I'm not going to distract him!"
They both roll their eyes – shove it, 6th years, or I'll hex you – and carry on their own business, walking off into the darkness towards the lit castle.
How dare they think I'm a distraction to their captain!
Alright, I'll come clean – last time I watched a practice from the stands with Alice and the other Marauders, James seemed a little flustered (which I found endearing as hell) and occasionally did end up landing in the stands to give me a quick kiss every now and then.
Twenty three times. Peter counted.
I tiptoe through the overhang of the entrance to the pitch, moving towards the opening that leads out to the vast plane of grass. I can hear James yelling – "GIVE ME MORE ATTITUDE AND ANOTHER TWENTY LAPS, ARMSTRONG" – and the occasional whoosh of somebody flying directly overhead.
I find myself a comfortable, seated position against the wall next to what I know is the boy's locker room. The only time I recall being in there, much fondling and giggling and activities other than Quidditch preparations were going on. Minutes wear on and ludicrously enough, I'm beginning to think it's been an hour before I hear James' voice clear and loud through the night.
"Alright, you gits, pack it in."
There's a universal hullabaloo of happiness as I hear the sounds of several feet landing on the grass just off to my right, out of sight. I come to the humorous conclusion that I must look ridiculous, sitting there half slouched towards the ground, so I rise gingerly to my feet and linger near the door.
Boys and girls alike come trooping in, swearing at James under their breath. The two girls (4th and 7th years, Sarah and Amy, respectively) don't notice me and bang their way through to the girl's locker room, while four boys walk by within inches of me. All four notice me but only one hangs around in the doorway for a moment.
"He's real grouchy," he tells me, casting a glance at the opening out onto the pitch.
Suddenly this doesn't seem like it's going to turn out like the spectacle I've been trying to make it out to be. Maybe I should just wait until he goes back up into the tower himself; maybe he'll be a little more relaxed.
"Grouchy enough to bite everybody and everything's head off no matter who or what they are?" I ask in a hushed tone, sharing the same apprehensive look as the boy standing near me.
"Probably." He shrugs and follows his friends into the locker room, the door swinging closed behind him and I hear the sounds of metal doors being slammed and showers being started.
Sorry, try again. Sorry, try again. Sorry, try again.
They're flashing through my head like those electronic neon signs on the sides of roads where they tell you to slow down because construction is going on ahead of you.
What if – what if – what if… oh god. Preposterously enough, I can't help but begin to think that my declaration won't be warmly accepted. And that would seriously crush me.
I wait a moment to see if James comes in after his team, but I hear whooshing sounds and frown. He's flying out there by himself, which means only one thing: James William Potter is in no mood to hear anything significant.
His best mates could be bleeding half to death in the hospital wing, but if James Potter is flying around the pitch by himself, you do not disturb him.
My ego and confidence completely deflated, I creep along the wall until I'm outside the stadium, walking up the path back to the school, reasoning with myself that he's just got a lot on his plate and having a pesky girlfriend wanting to tell him something important – which he would probably think can't be more significant than the Quidditch championship game – would just add more to the aforementioned plate.
And I don't want to be pesky.
No longer sprinting across the grounds at the speed of light, I find myself leisurely approaching the stairs to see Sirius and Remus sitting on them, chatting away merrily until their eyes fall upon me. I probably look down-trodden and have the expression appropriate of having a close relative die unexpectedly.
"I thought you had something to do!"
I sigh and join them on the steps, leaning back on one higher and resting my elbows there. "I did, but I think it can wait a while."
Sirius leans over a little, eyebrows doing a little dance on his forehead. I know its coming and I'm not terribly surprised when he whispers, "Alice told us!"
"That woman can't keep a thing to herself, honestly," I complain.
"You mastered the Patronus charm, it's hardly scandalous or anything," Remus tells me, looking at me weirdly as I blink back slowly.
Thank you, Alice, thank you. Apparently she's simply told them that I have mastered it and kept secret that my Patronus happened to be a doe, which coincides nicely with not only James' Animagus form, but his Patronus as well.
We sit there, shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, in silence, admiring the calm of the night and the stars and everything, simply everything. The way the grass slopes down towards the shores of the lake, and the way you can just see an outline on the surface, the outline of the squid, lazily tossing and flapping his or hers or its tentacles. The way the moon peeks out from the trees of the forbidden forest and the way the light from the entrance hall floods the stairs and a short distance onto the grass.
I come to the definite conclusion that I don't want to be here when James storms back up the path from the pitch. I don't want to witness that.
"Well, ladies," I begin, lifting my elbows off the steps and clambering to my feet. "It's nearly ten o'clock and I'm bushed and tomorrow's Hogsmeade."
"Ah yes, James mentioned taking you to Hogsmeade tomorrow instead of letting Alice whisk you away."
I smile briefly, glancing off towards the pitch which is barely distinguishable now in the dark.
"Whisk me away, huh?" I repeat, but in my head, I can't help but add, 'James has already done that'.
So? So? So? What do you think? Constructive criticism, if anything, please. Update should come soon!