AN - Note, there is no Peter in this story.
Let Me Set Things Straight
Dear Journal,
First of all, let me set this straight right away…I'm not one for writing in diaries. I don't even really know why I'm writing in this one now, except for the fact that I literally have no other idea about how to get all of this out of my system. When your best friend refuses to listen to you because she thinks that it's your own bloody fault, and you feel like this is one of the worst things that has ever happened to you, you get just a wee but desperate for a way to sort things out – I've never tried the diary approach, but I guess there's a first time for everything.
I guess it all started on platform 9 ¾, on September first, my first year at Hogwarts. I was sitting alone in a compartment at the very back of the train. It was quite nice actually, because there were windows along the back wall of the compartment as well as the side. I glanced out the window and saw a boy with messy black hair laughing hysterically. I wondered what his name was, and if I'd ever get to know him – little did I know of what was to come.
In second year he asked me out. I was so shocked, I automatically said "no" without giving it a moment's thought. In third year he started asking me out every day. This behavior went on for two more tantalizing years. In Sixth year he didn't talk to me except when absolutely necessary…I suppose being turned down by whom you profess to be the "love of your life" every day for three years can do that to a person. In seventh year we became friends, I'd been close with Remus since 1st year, and I'd gotten along with Sirius after the middle of fourth year. (He even taught me how to play Quidditch properly, and I mad the house team fifth year – chaser.) I became one of the gang. It was fun, we were fun, I was and honorary Marauder…at least as far as they were concerned.
One day in 7th year practice ended early, but I kept flying because it felt so good to soar around without a care in the world. Suddenly James appears out of nowhere and says, "Lily, I know you don't want to hear it, but you're the love of my life. I know you are, and I can't just let you go without knowing."
"Knowing what?" I ask.
"That maybe, just maybe, there's a hope for me."
"What do you mean a 'hope'?" I asked him, knowing full well what he was getting at.
He sighed, then said "I've asked you a thousand times, but I'm asking you one last time…Will you, Lily Evans, go out with me?"
"No," I said, without even thinking. The moment I said it, I regretted it. I knew he was the one, the one people wait their whole lives to meet, but I couldn't admit to myself that I was meant for him… I was such an idiot.
The look in his eyes could have melted the heart of a dementor. He flew off, and I never saw him again. To this day, I hope he'll come back to me. But he won't, and I know it. Two years later, there was an article in the Prophet saying that he was engaged to Emily Clearwater – I'd known her in school, she was nice enough.. There was a picture of the couple, and in his eyes – I still saw that melancholy sorrow that had been in his eyes the evening I'd broken his heart.
