I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can't get my mind off of you
-Joshua Radin
Sometimes Lily Evans thinks she is going crazy. With the way her breath hitches in her throat, and heat flames to her cheeks, and she can't tear her eyes away—sometimes she feels that crazy is the only explanation.
It is bad enough when she's at school and distancing herself is far from possible. He always seems to be just around the corner, ready to toss his arms casually around her shoulder, her name a lilt on the tip of his tongue. His friends have suddenly become her friends, hers rely on his. They are intermixed at meals, sprawled atop one another in the common room, trading answers in the library. When she closes her eyes at night she sees a flash of hazel, the glint off wire frames, a crooked smile. Crazy is the only explanation.
But here, just a block from Spinner's End, in the midst of Easter holidays? To see that familiar mop of unruly black hair, that lanky frame and long legs so sure in their measured steps, just across the street must be a sign of insanity. "Potter?"
The name is off her lips before she can stop herself. It isn't said with hostility or frustration, just genuine confusion—confusion that's mirrored by the widening of his eyes behind those wire frames as he glances up in surprise. His brow furrows and eyes narrow, as if trying to recall to mind something long forgotten, and then a smile breaks across his face and he's off the sidewalk and in the street, those measured steps leading him to her.
"Lily Evans." Her name is a smile and she feels herself crack a little at its sound. She wonders, momentarily, when she lost the control over her life that she fought so hard for these past few years. But then he's beside her, as strong and self-assured as always, and the thought melts in the warmth of his smile. "Fancy meeting you here."
"What are you doing here?" She blurts out the question, unconcerned with how rude it sounds, and he scratches the back of his head, regarding her curiously.
"Visiting Andromeda Tonks, Sirius' cousin. She lives a few streets that way." He jerks his head to the side, his hand still anchored behind his neck. "She just had a baby, you see, and Sirius wanted to visit. I've only just left them."
"Oh," the word hangs heavily in the air between them, and Lily is aware that she should say something more, but finds that nothing comes to mind. "I was at a dress fitting," she murmurs by way of explanation, though she's painfully aware that he hasn't asked. James cocks an eyebrow and she feels compelled to say more. "My sister's getting married this summer and I'm a bridesmaid." She shrugs uncomfortably, eyes fixed determinedly on the sidewalk.
The silence feels interminable to Lily. It always does between them. And she has to berate herself for caring, and she has to force the blush from her cheeks, and she has to tell herself that it doesn't matter what bloody Potter thinks of her. She winces slightly. She is most definitely going crazy.
"So you were at a dress fitting," he carries on the conversation as if eons haven't lapsed since she last spoke. And maybe for him, Lily considers briefly, they haven't. After all, she is the one who is losing her sanity, it makes perfect sense that she would be losing time as well. Or adding it, as the case may be. "For your sister's wedding, in which you are a bridesmaid," the word is almost caustic on his tongue, and though Lily can't fathom why, it forces her to look up. She is surprised to see concern etched across his laughing features, intermingled with something that looks oddly like anger. "And you were…alone?"
"Well, no, not exactly."
"Not exactly," he repeats her words flatly and looks at her in that way of his. She wants to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.
"I went with my mum and Petunia but I was done first and, well, I'm not exactly a fan of familial tension so I asked if could leave and told my mum I'd walk home and…" Lily trails off, aware that she's been rambling. "And then I ran into you."
She steals a glance at him just in time to see him nod slowly, his eyebrows knit in concentration. His face relaxes and he lets loose a sigh before turning towards her. "Where do you live?"
The unexpected question takes her by surprise and Lily finds herself answering before she can consider the consequences. "Two blocks over."
"Right," he turns and starts walking, stopping only once he's realized she isn't following. "C'mon, I'll walk you home."
"You don't have to."
"Evans," he breathes her name in slight exasperation. "I want to. Indulge my ego just this once and let me pretend that I'm actually a chivalrous gentleman."
Lily doesn't know whether to laugh at this or not, so she simply takes James' proffered arm in uncertainty and tries not to think too hard. James awards her with a cheek splitting grin and she feels herself begin to blush again as she decides she is undeserving of such a smile. It isn't as if she's done anything particularly remarkable, is it? She's simply done what he's asked. It doesn't occur to her that, to him, that may just be remarkable.
It is James that breaks the silence first, his good spirits seemingly renewed by her acquiescence. He asks her about her holiday and she responds in kind, astonished to find that maybe, just maybe she has been missing James and his fellow Marauders these past few days. Not that she'd admit it, of course. She would have to be crazy to admit it. But she allows herself to fall, head first, into a companionable conversation. James is witty and interesting—he's always been witty and interesting—and Lily finds herself laughing more than she has since she boarded the Hogwarts' Express five days ago.
It is not until James guides her into a nearby park that she freezes, her voice catching harshly in her throat in the middle of a sentence about her disdain for taffeta. James takes a step forward, only to stumble as her arm slides from his, dropping limply at her side. "Lily?" He is looking at her in that questioning way of his, concern mingling with confusion in those hazel eyes. "What's wrong?"
"I—" her voice falters as a wealth of emotions swells within her. How can she possibly explain to James Potter, of all people, that she hasn't entered this park since the summer before fifth year? "I can't."
He steps forward, extends a hand, and then draws it back. "You can't…what?" He swallows thickly and Lily's eyes widen, realization dawning amid the fog of memories.
Her voice is small when she answers, but she feels it's important to answer lest he think…she shakes her head clear of the thought. "This is where I met him…for the first time."
"Where you met…? Oh," the word is deflated and Lily squeezes her eyes shut against a sudden rush of tears as James exhales slowly. She is not the type of girl to cry in front of a boy and she isn't about to start now, not in front of James Potter.
"We used to meet here in the summer," she supplies helpfully as she tries to regulate her breathing. Maybe if she speaks, she won't feel such a need to cry. "But we haven't met since, well, you know." She gives a half-hearted shrug, suddenly aware that the memory of that afternoon by the lake isn't painful just to her. "I didn't come last summer. I think I was afraid he might be here, waiting for me."
"And you didn't want to see him?" It is a simple, guiding question. It isn't hopeful or condescending. It is nothing more than concerned intrigue and encouragement to continue.
Lily blinks, shaking her head slowly. "I-I didn't know. I wasn't sure. I think I was afraid of what he might say." She lowers her head, a curtain of red obscuring her eyes. "Of what I might've said."
When she finally looks up she finds that he is staring at her again, indecisive and wondering, those hazel eyes flashing dangerously as he settles some inner qualm. And just as suddenly as it came, the storm is gone and James' confidence has returned, and he is just as self-assured as always. He slips an arm around her shoulder and squeezes it gently as she leans into him, surprised to find that she is thankful for the support. As she rests her head against his shoulder she feels him turn his head toward her, so that his face is pressed gently into her hair. "I'm sorry," he murmurs quietly, and she shivers at this unexpected sincerity.
"For what?"
"I'm sorry things had to end that way between the two of you."
Incredulous, Lily turns to face him, though she doesn't step out of his one-armed embrace. "You've always hated him." It isn't an accusation, simply an assertion that they both know to be true. James doesn't try to deny it.
"Yes, but I've always hated seeing you hurt too."
"Oh." The word is small and soft and Lily finds herself leaning back against James, at a loss for anything else to say. She has never felt quite so unsure in her life. Not when she left Petunia standing on that platform as she boarded the train, eager to embark on her new life. Not when the Sorting Hat catapulted her into Gryffindor, and then dumped Severus in Slytherin without a second's thought. Not when she stood isolated on that lawn, her best friend suspended in midair with eyes full of glaring malice, with her enemy by her side, torn between compassion for her and condescension for him.
She isn't certain how long they stand there in the entrance to the park, James' arm wrapped tightly around her, her head resting in that shallow dip between neck and shoulder. But she finds she doesn't quite care that she's losing time, as long as she can keep this moment. She shivers as a sudden breeze slips about them, teasing the hair about her shoulders, and James pulls her closer, his warmth enveloping her slim frame. Suddenly, she doesn't feel quite so afraid any more.
"It doesn't have to be this way, you know." His voice is a whisper and Lily has to strain to hear it above the gentle wind, but she's sure she's heard him all the same.
"H-how do you mean?" She chokes out the question in a voice just as quiet, as though a fracture in the silence will shatter this frozen time.
His sigh is gentle, yet slightly exasperated. She is already beginning to recognize the sound as a sign of inner struggle. "You don't have to remember him this way. Don't let what Snape said taint your memories of…Sev." The name is bitter on his tongue, but he manages to spit it out without causticity all the same.
Lily inhales sharply, but doesn't pull away. James' free hand jumps to the back of his neck and he scratches it nervously, the strength of his confidence fading quickly in the wake of her silence. But before he can say anything else, Lily feels the world right itself, the blurred colors of the park straightening back into defined lines as time once again lurches forward. She takes a small step forward and James' arm falls to his side as she turns to face him, a small, uncertain smile quivering on her bowed lips.
"You're right," she murmurs, her green eyes focusing anywhere but on his hazel ones. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet, but I do think you're right." She hesitantly stretches out a hand, brushing his fingers with her own. "For now can we just…take the long way home?"
The hand that clasps hers is strong and sure, and she feels her body relax as relief floods through her. "Of course."
As James gently guides her around the park, Lily is certain the companionable conversation of before has forever dissipated in the wake of her glaring insecurity. Yet to her surprise, the silence that falls between them is just as comforting—the silence of two friends with no frenzied need to fill the abyssal gap between their unhurried thoughts. A convivial silence with James Potter is just another sign that she is going crazy.
With her hand in his, Lily contentedly follows James, paying no mind to his apparently innate ability to discern the correct directions to her home. Instead she closes her eyes and, for the first time since September, allows memories to come as they will. But instead of tarnished remembrances of those early days with Sev, or even the tormented recollections of the downward spiral of fifth year, Lily is surprised to see that face that has become all too familiar in her dreams of late. Each time she tries to recall Sev, all she sees are James Potter's laughing eyes, his lips crooked in that strange half-smile of his—the one that seems to break down all her defenses. The one that's slowly driving her crazy.
All too soon James gives a gentle tug on her hand and Lily realizes they have already turned onto her street. He turns to her, an unspoken question in his eyes, and she nods her head to the right, gesturing with her chin. "It's that one there, with the blue shutters." James nods silently, and Lily gets the distinct impression that she has answered the wrong question. But he continues walking anyway, until he's led her straight to that front step, and stops just before her door.
She turns towards him, unsure of the proper protocol in such a situation. She fiddles anxiously with the hem of her shirt, her eyes focused firmly on the folds in his navy sweater. "James, I—" she flounders, all too aware that she's called him by his given name, possibly for the first time. She idly wonders when he stopped being 'Potter,' but ultimately decides 'James' simply fit the situation. After all, she reasons, you can't address someone by their surname after they've gone out of their way to help you. It just wouldn't be fitting.
"James," she begins again, cringing at how nice that simple syllable sounds. "Thank you, for…everything."
If he's noticed her mortification at her poor attempt at gratitude he says nothing, merely rewards her with a puzzled smile. "Anytime, Lily."
She blushes at her name and nods, mentally berating herself for her lack of composure. James lets loose a barely audible sigh and rakes his fingers through his untamable hair. "Well, I'll see you at school." He turns to leave, bounding boyishly off the front step and onto the concrete pathway.
He's halfway to the sidewalk when she finally summons the courage to call after him. "James! Wait!" He slows and turns, the questioning smile quirking the corners of his lips again, and Lily nervously approaches him. "Do you think…what I mean to say is," she glances shyly up at him through pale lashes, "would it be crazy if I asked you to write to me? For the rest of hols?" She twists her hands anxiously, no longer willing to meet his eyes. "I know it's not very long but…it would be nice to have someone to talk to."
James chuckles and Lily glances up, horrified. Is he laughing at her? Before she can hastily rescind her offer, James is brushing the back of her hand gently with his own, a glowing smile stretching across his face. "Yeah, I think I could manage that." He turns again, but not before squeezing her shoulder gently and letting loose another chuckle. As he finally reaches the sidewalk, James Potter tosses another grin over his shoulder. "I look forward to hearing from you, Lily Evans."
As he turns the corner and disappears from view, Lily shakes her head, slowly making her way up the walk to her house, a small smile playing on her lips. She is most definitely going crazy.
A/N: I've been messing around with this for a while and definitely feel as though I lost steam there at the end, but I figured I'd post it anyway. I'd love to hear your thoughts, whether you liked it or hated it.