Disclaimer: These are pointless but they give me an excuse to write stupid things, so: Roses are red, Violets are blue, I'm not J.K. Rowling, So don't bother to sue!
He was a bastard to me. A complete and total bastard. Bastard. It's really the only way to describe him in words, him and his hands that hold the whip he brings cruelly down upon my back, him and those hands which embrace me in the public's eyes but then smites me with force nearly unbearable that brings a harsh sense of pain to my entire face.
Lily and James We are supposedly the perfect couple. James did do a good job hiding it, I've got to grant him at least that, though I grant him nothing else and even grant him that begrudgingly. Hell, he even fooled Dumbledore, who was supposed to be the one person no one could fool. He fooled Dumbledore royally. Dumbledore never knew of the scars across my back and the pain that still burns everywhere on my body. And shall never know. For James did his play acting well.
And I played my role, too.
Submissive but yet assertive, I was to them the perfect wife and perfect mother, completely in love with the bastard as far as they could tell...which clearly wasn't very far. In love, my ass. No way was I in love with him. But they all buy the act. To them I am in love, was in love and still am.
I am damn well not in love with that asshole. Yet looking back, far back, I realize there was a time when I really was in love with him, really did love him, a time when a love for James that I held with my whole heart was real, not just a facade I showed to the public.
So where and when did it all end? How did it all start? And why? Why did he ever do it? Half of me doesn't want the answer and half of me does, but the latter half wins over and I remember, slowly and painfully, the first time...
I pause at his doorway before I knock on it, unsure. Half of me thinks that this is important, a good thing, even necessary, but another part of me is just telling me to turn back, wait till later, he doesn't need to know yet. But he'll support me, I know. He will. He's James and he's my love and he's perfect. So I knock.
"Who is it?" I hear James's sweet voice wafting towards me and, noticing the absence of any other voices, I am glad to tell that he is alone. "It's me," I call back, "Lily."
I can almost here his face light up, become radiant, even from outside the door where all I can do is hear his voice. "Come on in, my Lily-billy," he says playfully, and I would have laughed and given him a slight admonition for the silly nick-name if it weren't for the gravity of the situation.
"Hi, James," I say wearily, unable to say anything else.
"Come on, what's making my love so sad," James asked, half-bantering and half-serious, but I know that he really wants to know in spite of the part of him that is so joking.
"James...you remember that night about a month and a half ago? When we...you know, did it?" Lily still felt uncomfortable; even though, as fifth years, they had gone through sex-ed and everyone seemed perfectly ready for it all by now, she was still a quiet, modest girl who was uncomfortable talking about the whole sex thing.
"Of course I do," James said, "How could I forget? That was one of the best nights in my life, Lily." Noticing her expression of concern, he added, "Come now, what's worrying you about it? Are you regretting it?"
"Well...not exactly, but kind of..." Lily's speech faltered and she didn't know what to say or how to say it or even why she should say it anymore. Finally she blurted out, unable to stop her mouth, "I'm pregnant, James!"
"You're WHAT?" James exploded, suddenly changing from a loving creature to a hateful monster, his entire demeanor and the whole aura about him changing in a way Lily could somehow tell could only mean terrible things...terrible things that would last a long time.
"I'm...I'm pregnant," Lily said, quieter this time, almost a whisper.
"You fucking whore," he yelled at her, slapping her hard against her face. "I can't believe you could do this!"
Tears were all that Lily could create right now. She couldn't say the words she wanted to say, voice the unvoiced questions and fears. All she could say was, "James...James..."
"Well, what's wrong with you, girl?" He shouted at her. "March down to Madam Sech‡nt and get an abortion right now. You can't just go and have a baby...I mean, everyone will know and we'll get expelled and look what would happen to our roles and besides, you can't just go and have a baby when you're sixteen, you know that!"
"But James...I -- I couldn't...I couldn't have an abortion," Lily's voice trembled. "I just couldn't. Who cares about our bloody reputation"
"Damn well you're getting an abortion. And our name is one of the most important things and you won't tarnish it. Unless..." He pulled out a belt.
"And I don't think poor little sensitive Lily would like this, now would she?" And as Lily's trembling voice gave her assent to everything, to the abortion and to that she didn't want that and to the unspoken agreement that James could do whatever the hell he wanted with their suddenly sick relationship, James said, "Good. Now let me screw you," and Lily could do nothing except nod in assent and let him. She could do nothing, nothing at all.
And just then, James's eyes gleamed with a terrible hatred Lily had never seen within them in her life and she was shocked at it. How could he have changed...how could he have changed?
The question still echoed in her mind now, twenty-one and living a seemingly perfect life with James and a baby and Voldemort at their doorstep now. How could he have changed? Was it really just her pregnancy? Or was it something different.
Five years...five whole years of torture and abuse and smacking and whipping and hatred from the man she supposedly loved. They "made love" but it was really just another way for James to torture her, not a way to show any love. Five years. She wept a silent tear and soon became lost in a sea of self-pity and self-loathing...pity for having to go through what she did and loathing for not being able to get out of it.
"Avada Kedavra," the words cut into her train of thought and she abruptly jerked into reality, away from the intangible world of her mind. Somewhere in her conscious she somehow realized that James was being killed. And with a sense of elation, she suddenly realized that not only did she not care, she was as glad as hell.
And then James hit the floor and Voldemort began to approach her and she suddenly realized that the same fate awaited her. But it no longer mattered. She had seen James died and witnessed it with glee and that was all she cared about anymore. All the rest...life, death, memories, everything else wasn't of any consequence anymore. It no longer mattered.