'And right now, everything you want is wrong
And right now, all your dreams are waking up
And right now, I wish I could follow you...
To the shores of freedom, where no-one lives..'
Lily thundered and jostled her way through the thronging crowds, searching for any outlet, an escape, a runaway. Blinking back tears of confusion she found herself quite suddenly in a secluded bank of the lake, hidden, thankfully, by a large (and highly suitable, Lily thought dryly) weeping willow
Confusion. Bemusement. Bewilderment. For it was not out of sadness that she was, for one of the first times in her seventeen years, choked with emotion. It was the dart of realisation one gets when something we have been striving to ignore or disregard for...well, forever, blindsides us, piercing us with the truth. Over-reacting, silly! Lily chided herself. (a habit she had acquired through many long hours spent in the company of no-one but herself). She threw her broom to the ground, dropped onto the bank and let her rattled breathing, all too loud in this new silence, still and steady in time to the wavelets lapping the shore.
Memories flashed through her mind, faded insults were drawn up from the past... 'Potter, the problem with you is not that you love me, but merely that you want what you can't have!' 'Spoilt brat!' She had so persuaded herself that he, Prom King Potter, did not like her, that it was almost like a safety net for her, she liked the security of such an unchanging and unfaltering truth. But now, now... actions do speak louder than words, she told herself. And such an action! The event, which had happened roughly five minutes prior to her storming of this quiet lakeside grove, was what had placed her in such a quandary.
The event being that he, James Potter, had forsaken the Quidditch Cup for her safety. The Quidditch Cup which was so within Gryffindor's reach for the first time in a century. The match which was being covered by The Daily Prophet, Quidditch Illustrated, Witch Weekly, even The Quibbler for the love of Merlin. The very match which James himself had probably been anticipating his entire life. The match...well, you get the jist. Half an inch!.That's how far his fingers were away from the Snitch, how far away they were from victory and most of all, how far away they were from shattering a hundred Slytherin's smug dreams. That must have been it. The pressure. The pressure on her, as chaser, had caused her to become faint. Her frantic cry of 'James! Help!'. Why? What on earth possessed her call for him when there were a dozen other people around her? The last thing she could hear beforehand was the collective gasp of the crowd, both for James' proximity to the elusive golden sphere, and for their star chaser swaying dangerously one hundred feet up, with a nasty bludger hurtling towards her. How, why or what possessed him to turn at that last crucial second and fly to grab her, clutching her so tightly to him she felt he would never let go? Only affection...maybe more.
Lily was startled out of her musings by movement to her right. She didn't need to look up to know who it was that trudged so apprehensively towards her. She simply continued staring into the murky depths, her chin resting on her knees which were drawn to her chest. He tentatively sat himself perhaps a foot away from her, the unease at being in her presence and not being screamed at evidently a new experience for James. She realised that she was painfully aware of every tiny detail of him, from his fresh, grassy scent to the way his fringe would twitch with each blink of his long eyelashes. They sat there in silence for around five minutes which stretched into forever- both aware that, however trivial the circumstances leading up to this were, something huge had shifted in their universe, somehow nothing and everything would ever be the same again. Lily was peaceful. She tried to distract herself from the inevitable by trying to pace her breathing so that it was in sync with his- she found she couldn't, he inhaled frighteningly slowly, she foolishly noted.
It was he who broke the silence eventually. 'Are- are you alright?' His voice was initially a whisper, he had to clear his throat to make his words audible. 'Don't'! she inwardly intoned desperately. 'Please dont be nice, not now, not here...' .There it was again, the uncustomary lump in her throat, the hot burning behind her eyes. She frantically fixed her eyes on the grey sky overhead, how this would prevent the tears she did not know. His question went unanswered, but he didn't appear to mind. 'Why'd you do that?' she asked after some seconds, in a strained whisper, back to gazing into the lake now, still not bringing herself to look at him, because if she does, she'll be a lost cause. Another pause. It is strange, both of them so carefully weighing their words now, this new civility they both have after years of heated arguments.
And then he said it. The stupid, small sentence that finally, finally, causes her head to snap round and look at him, plunge into everything. Funny, it is usually said that when people fall in love, it is a beautiful intricate process, slow, mesmerising, alluring. Or else, it is love at first sight, seeing a stranger and finding a soulmate within minutes.. For Lily, it is neither. James Potter is no stranger; but in that tiny, sharp millisecond after he utters that sentence, she's there. There has been no falling. She is simply a lost cause, gone, hook line and sinker, deeper in love with the boy beside her than perhaps anyone has ever been with anyone before. Strange to think it's because of a few short words.
'Because you asked me to.'