Part One: Reconciliation Their lips crash together like waves upon the rocky shore. Brutal. Painful. Honest. Their hands are roaming everywhere; lips, caressing everywhere, tears, trailing everywhere. He never did expect her to forgive him. James never did expect Lily to take him back, but now she is in his arms again, in the middle of Hogwarts' Quidditch field, in this godforsaken thunderstorm. She is his once more, regardless of his past mistakes. They are together, in the here and now, and that is all that matters. "James…" Lily whispers as she bites her lip, holding back a moan, at the touch of his lips on her neck. She grips him closer, pairing up her body to his. Face to face, chest to chest, hips to hips. They were always good together. They always had that chemistry, that particular chemistry that everyone else looks for but hardly ever finds, and that chemistry between them has lain dormant for far too long. Raindrops pound on them, like tiny, biting grenades, splashing on their skin upon contact. The rain drips down their faces and melts their tears together, creating slightly salty rivulets that mingle with their sweat and passion. It flows into the tiny crevices of their bodies, between their heat-flushed chests and arms and lips. It is beautiful. This is beautiful. And this is tragic. Who knew that they would rekindle everything here, where it started all those many years ago… He had hurt her, and she had broke. He had hurt her in the most cruel, unforgivable way, and she had died a little bit. All his years of pursuit had culminated in a wandering of interest, or so implied by his actions, and she swore she would never ever forgive him. She never did take herself seriously. Was it all for giggles, she wondered? Did he chase her because he wanted her? Or did he chase her just to prove he could have her? She felt like she was a prize, a token of the chase, the chase of the decade; she was the treasure chest on the ship. The ship he sank. Their first few months together were beautiful, so passionate and so unrestrained. They wanted each other, and neither would settle for anything less. It was all or nothing, and they both wanted it all. But then, something gave, she was not sure what, but something certainly gave, and led to that fateful night. That fateful night in the broom closet, with James and the school harlot, shagging like bunnies. Forget that there was a party that night, forget that he had consumed a bottle of firewhiskey, forget that they had their biggest argument earlier that afternoon—he was caught, caught like none other, by his own pretty princess. A scream. A cry. A thrown bottle of solvent, and a shuffle and crash of broomsticks. It was over in less than a minute, and two hearts were broken. How could he? And with another redhead. How could he replace her when she wasn't even gone? Arguments were arguments, but she was sure that what they had transcended petty yelling and slammed doors. It was nothing that good make-up sex could not solve. She was looking for him to apologize anyway; he should have known that. He should have known that she did not mean all those harsh words she threw, and he should have known that she had so much more to offer to him than her, that other girl. So why did he look for it elsewhere? She felt like a lie. She felt like everything they shared was a lie. Those nights in the Astronomy Tower, where he told her stories of his childhood in Wales. Lies. Those midnight swims in the Great Lake. Lies. Those tender kisses at sunrise, that morning he dragged her out of her bed, and they smuggled themselves out under the invisibility cloak to the nearby cliff. Lies. Lies, lies, lies. She did not believe anymore, and so it ended. As tumultuous as it began, it ended. She left Hogwarts broken and worn, pulled down by love, or whatever it was. Lily was not one to compromise herself or her happiness. So now she is not willing to compromise again. After all these years, she still knows that James is the best she has ever had, and she knows that being with James is right, even though it feels so wrong. She had other lovers since James, but they have only been sub par. No one lived up to the precedents set by James-bloody-Potter, no matter how badly he had broken her heart. No, she is not willing to compromise her happiness again. She has to be with James, even if it means looking past his mistakes and swallowing her own pride. She is convinced that she must be with James, that being with James feels so wrong because it is so right, and that sometimes, wrong is the best way to live. They submerge themselves in the moment, savoring the taste of each other's skin, lips, neck, shoulders. It is passion. It is love. It is something indescribable, but so glorious at the same time. It glows. It makes them glow, with such energy that their bodies hummed together, in synchronization. They fit so well together—like two pieces of a goddamn puzzle, like a lock and key. She can taste his apology; those words unsaid after all those years. She can feel that he had broke too, after that night, and she can feel that he would die to have her back. She can feel everything he is thinking, and she knows that this is the epitome of synergy. She throws herself back at him, her emotions, and it feels so good. No holding back now, no restrictions—this is their last apology. This is their redemption. She wants him so bad. So fucking bad that it hurts. It hurts so much more than he had ever hurt her, and she does not care anymore. She needs him to breathe, to live, to see, to feel. She wants it. She wants him, because life without him is meaningless. Without James, life would be a monotony of Order assignments and reheated restaurant meals, nights in front of the T.V. and phone arguments with Petunia. Life before pales in comparison with what she could have now. Lily is addicted, and there is no twelve-step program to help her. She needs him now. Lily pulls away from his embrace, ignoring his groans of protest and her body aches for relief from the temporary loss. "Not here, not here. I promise, but not here. We can't," she whispers, not trusting her voice to make any vocally stable sounds. "C'mon, just…come with me. Please." There is an urgency in their pace as she leads him through the forest, rain still pelting her soaked crimson head. Their hands grasp each other in a tight embrace, afraid of letting go and getting lost. They had just found each other. No more risks, no more stupid moves. The game is finally over, and it is time to enjoy the victory. Lily steps over fallen logs and breaks into a run, whipping water droplets back at him and searching wildly for her old secret spot. Her old clearing of clearings, a soft bed of grass. After all these years, she still feels a connection to it, a nostalgic tie to the curtains of willow. She used to go there to think, about the confusions of magic when she was younger and about James during the last few years at Hogwarts. She had never shown anyone her secret hideout, not even her best friend, not even James at the zenith of their first relationship. She does not know why she is leading him here, but just that she must, just that this is the only place where she can truly have him and know for certain that he has her. This is their consummation. The forest is silent with anticipation. The rain is still falling, and branches whip across each other, but silence is deafening beyond all this movement. The world is waiting, because everything is off-course when James and Lily are apart. They belong to an exclusive club of Romeo and Juliet, Scarlett and Rhett, Catherine and Heathcliff, of love-born pairs unbound by the etches of time. Lily and James. Forever. The world is waiting to start again, to continue its course with Lily and James onboard as one, and it is worth the wait. James and Lily are worth waiting for. Lily pulls James to an abrupt stop before a curtain of branches and pushes through the low dangling willow whips. She reveals a small, secluded clearing under a dense circle of trees that stretch upward and tangle their branches together. It is dome of some sort, created by anything but man or wizard. It must be protected by magic because it is lined with soft, thick grass, grass of a completely different shade of green, and despite the storm, everything is dry, dry and inviting, like natural bedroom awaiting their arrival. James takes this opportunity to speak, breathless from running, and dizzy from love. He reaches forth and pulls Lily's arm, turning her around to face him. "Lily, please, I'm so sor—" "Not now, James." No. No apologies. Too late for apologies. She stares him down with an extreme intensity, an emerald fire pulsing from her eyes that tells him that she knows and that she wants more than words. Lily pulls him inside her circle, dismissing the closure of the branches with a wave of her hand, and presses her lips to his. Yes, all is right again.