Prologue:
The fire crackled loudly, its dancing form reflected in emerald eyes. Lily Evans sat, curled up tightly, in an armchair, watching the fire but not quite seeing it. There was one person in her mind, one person in particular. A man, a man with messy hair and glasses and a lopsided but ever so charming smile. There were soft voices coming from across the hall, talking of dark things, things Lily had heard enough of over the last few months. The man who occupied her thoughts was in there, arranging a funeral, choosing whether red flowers were better than white flowers for the top of the casket. He probably had red eyes, and a sniffle. He was probably scratching the side of his nose, like he usually did when he was fighting the urge to succumb to pain.
His name was James Potter.
And Lily Evans loved him, despite her constant denies in doing so, her constant inner battles, the tears, the arguments and the pain. And he loved her too, like he claimed to have done so for many years. And Lily believed him.
But there were problems, one of which was a pale white body lying under a sheet in someone's old childhood bedroom. Another was a hovering, bright green, image floating over the house they occupied, no one quite having the strength to vanquish it. Another was a pretty blonde woman with blue eyes by the name of Ivy. She would have her head resting on James' shoulder, her sleek tanned fingers entwined with his rough, equally tanned ones. Then there were the little problems, scattered here and there. Such as prejudice, jealously, blood differences, heart aches… timing.
The dark weather outside, the clouds inked with black, the sky such a dark blue that not even Marlene, who thought everything was beautiful – right down to Sirius Black's handwriting, could find beauty in it, and the scatter of angry raindrops on the window, was such a good representation of how life was now.
Dark, ominous, with not even a slight wisp of hope for brighter days.
There was a war outside, and perhaps inside every wizard and witch inside the small cottage, that loomed over them all, like death itself…
Lily had a guilty pleasure: romance novels – more so than the movies. Ever since Lily was twelve and began to adore the magic that was love, she had read millions of pages, one after the other, of other people's love stories. The brief flings she had encountered along the path of life could not match up to the beauty found in the old, dog eared pages of her romance novels. She was patient though, expecting a beautiful love story of her own one day, one that would rival the ones in her books, even in the ones she wrote herself.
But she had never expected her love story to come at such a dark time, to a man who was so wrong for her. Her love story wasn't filled the way she had expected it to be, the way all those romance novels that promised her it'd be. It wasn't full of sharing ice creams, dozens of red roses nor sex on the beach. It was arguments and guilt and pain. It was standing side by side during funerals, yelling until their voices were hoarse and declaring to never, ever, love each other, ever again – that they had learnt this time.
That was the love story between James Potter and Lily Evans.
Then there were their own respected relationships, with another person. Which were full of all the things Lily had expected. They were the perfect love stories. The ones Lily had dreamt of but when it was presented to her on a silver platter, she could not accept with a whole heart. No, she wanted the horror story that was her love story with James.
Why?
Because love doesn't know of perfection, or happy endings. It just knows of the feelings of happiness – even in such dark times – when their hand is in yours, or the feelings of emptiness in your heart when their hand is not in yours. That's all love knows. Love doesn't care for the time, the place or the problems involved. Love is naïve and stupid, and oh so unpredictable.
Looking back, that's what Lily knew intrigued her, what Lily fell in love with. But despite the way she believed love to be more magical than anything she had ever encountered in the wizarding world, she knew no good would come of her love story. So she ripped out the pages before it was finished and now where was she? Regretful, watching him hold the hands of another woman and mourning the things left unsaid.
Someone's heavy footsteps entered the room, and she knew them to be James'. Only he could walk so loudly without knowing so. Her silence shattered.
But when he spoke his voice was as soft as if he had not spoken at all, "Lily…"
Lily looked over at James crouched beside her armchair.
"It's time."
It was in moments like these that Lily remembered why she adored love.
"I'm scared, James." Her voice was not her own.
"I know." His eyes were red, like Lily had assumed them to be, and there was a slight red rash on the side of his nose. "So am I."
"Will you still protect me?" A childish question, one Lily regretted as soon as it left her lips, but one she needed the answer to nonetheless.
"I never stopped, Lily."