Whee! wrote this one at midnight last night in a spasm of creativity whilst thinking of memories from 2/3 years ago ^^
When I think about it, I wonder...
What did make me fall in love with him in the first place? When did I finally admit it to myself that I was in love with him?
I guess the moment I saw him on the train to Hogwarts during first year. That was when my heart didn't belong to me anymore. I figured you know? When you're an 11 year old going to a special school to learn magic without ever having known that magic existed at all, you can be a bit scared, intimidated, nervous and very defensive. Then with all those emotions you suddenly feel all light and air-headed just looking at a boy you've never met, you'd of course react negatively and violently.
You can't blame me, I didn't know him then, and he wasn't really the prince charming I had imagined from the fairytales. They were always all golden, with soft illumination and gentle piano music in the background. Now him, he was golden, yes. With his adorably untameable hair and hazel eyes that gave e butterflies and made me melt. But he didn't come with the soft illumination, gentle piano music and he didn't treat me like a princess. He was loud and obnoxious and everybody loved him for it and he knew it. He was this sudden massive spotlight, right in my eyes and he was explosive. Not at all an eleven year old's fantasy prince charming.
He gave me butterflies and made me feel weak so I forced myself to focus on the area above his head and stand up to him. So he pestered me and annoyed me to get my attention. I'm sure deep down I loved it during that age but I just felt annoyance because I was resolved not to like him.
During first year, it was all teasing and practical jokes, he pulled my hair, flicked peas at me and all sorts of things, when I glared at him, he simply grinned at me, his adorable lopsided grin. He told me he was understocked that year, with first years not being allowed to Hogsmead yet, and the boys, self declared Marauders, not planning to wreak so much chaos and laughter.
In second year, they were very well supplied and they created havoc such the school had never seen, never had so many detentions been given out and so many points deducted. But somehow, they managed to regain these lost points with a great intelligence that resided dormant in their brains. How they had the knowledge was beyond me but they did, my mum always told me pranksters were people who were so smart that they got bored therefore resulting in pranks. The prime example is the Marauders, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, though Pettigrew didn't posses the same mysterious intelligence as the other three.
In third year, they didn't bring as many supplies with them, so I thought it would be less chaotic, boy was I ever wrong. The sneaky bastards, as I later learned had discovered hidden passages to Hogsmead, thus were constantly supplied by a simple perhaps hour long trip or they simply visited on Hogsmeade weekends. He upped the ante that year. He created a myriad of pranks that were played on me or in front of my very eyes, I was terrorised at every step.
During fourth year, he started the barrage of letters, trinkets and poetry. It was strange first, then he asked to out on Valentine's Day. Needless to say, I thought it was a joke and savagely declined the invitation with a furious slap. When I think back now, it feels cruel but if I hadn't declined we wouldn't have had such a nice story and such an explosive firecrackingly lively relationship now. He asked me out every month that year.
Fifth year arrived too quickly and I was frantic that year, I had Sev though, I could talk to him and rant all I wanted and he simply listened to me quietly and attentively, he was the best friend ever. Until he called me a mudblood, then I simply couldn't ignore his Slytherin buddies and cruel habits anymore, our friendship ended in that single moment. Then Potter was my release, screaming at him helped me release my stress and pent up frustration and anger. I like to think he let go of all the pressure during our fights too but I know better than that, he breezed through the OWLs.
In sixth year, he asked me out constantly, it was a daily happening and was the spectacle the school held it's breath for. It was like a live action drama for them I'm guessing. His pranks were impressive that year, and he had great spellwork and planning. All their pranks went off flawlessly with the desired effect, whether it was on the teachers, Slytherins or Severus. I hated them that year, more like jealous I guess, stupid talented pricks with everything and everyone wrapped around their pinkies. At the end of that year when I slapped him and screamed at him again he broke. I really can't believe how cruel I was to him then, I watched him break and the light simply disappear and I didn't care, I thought he deserved it. I never thought about how he actually felt.
I missed it those holidays, the daily letters and greetings, him randomly showing up on my doorstep early in the morning to my dad's alarm and anger, my mum's surprise and happiness and my sister's rage and jealousy. I actually missed it and I wondered what happened, Petunia was excessively smug those holidays. My dad whistled a merry tune around the house thinking that he wasn't about to lose his baby girl anytime soon. My mum wondered what happened to the nice boy that I was seeing and worried over me.
Seventh year, it was the best and the worst time for me. In the first week I loved it. It was quiet, peaceful, just the way I liked it. Then in the second week, I realised something was wrong, really wrong. I knew something was wrong with potter before, but I chalked it up to something petty, like being dumped or something. Then I found out, in sixth year, two days before he said he gave up on me, his parents had died. Not died normally as in car crash died. Died as in horrible and twisted captured by Voldemort and tortured for information until they simply went unconscious from pain, suffering, abuse and simply never woke up. I felt terrible. I had noticed the lack of pranks and laughter but this.
So I started talking to him, I laughed for him, I made him come Hogsmeade with me to draw him out of his numb shell. He rejected me first, he gave me this look so deadly and cold, I simply froze and felt as though my world had shattered. But me being a stubborn spoilt princess had to make him do something. Eventually he opened up, and I stayed by his side as he slowly came back to life. I started becoming really happy whenever a prank occurred cause it meant he was coming back from his dead grey world. Actually I was delirious with joy to put it mildly.
I didn't notice it but, I had grown so close to him, to the Marauders, the girls in all the other years and houses gave me looks of pure evil. But I was too wrapped up in my own little bubble to care. I was happy, he was happy so all was right in the beautiful world of Lily Evans. One day, they cornered me and confronted me. It was horrible, it was terrifying, I think I would've died with all their screaming and yelling at me and pushing and slapping. I never delved into that world I didn't know it could be so cruel, before I was wrapped up in studies and James Potter, now I was wrapped up in James Potter and his Marauders. They were terrible, like vultures preying on wounded rabbits. They pushed me to the floor and lashed out at me, kicking and screaming.
Then James came along, that was the first time I saw him as my prince charming, my knight in shining armour, I truly saw him for what he was to me for the first time. Sure, he wasn't perfect like in the fairytales, but he was perfect to me, and he fit perfectly into my pretty little world, and the pretty little space left in my future wedding album. He stopped them, I don't know how but he did. He was this large block between me and the vulture girls, he threatened them quietly with this deadly look in his eyes and they simply fell apart and ran. I don't know how some people do that, they just somehow can make people abide to their wishes simply by wishing it, but yes. That was the moment I realised how in love I was with James Potter.
Ever since day one, I have loved him, and the little things he did for me. The little things that he knew and remembered about me just made me love him all the more. I'm pretty sure my heart is simply bursting at the moment with my love for the messy black haired hazel eyed boy with his arms wrapped around me in a way that feels like I've died and gone to heaven or Elysium.
No! His arms are gone, damn I hate that weird cold shivery feeling I get everytime this happens. He has those nice eyes, and he's looking at me again, they're such a nice melty golden hazel, I'm daydreaming again. Damnit!
Oh, he's gone down on one knee.
Oh dear.
Oh my.
Dear lord.
He's proposing, I'm going to say yes.
I'm definitely going to say yes.
.
I can't breathe, I'm floating.
He's looking at me with his gorgeous eyes, dancing with hope.
His hair is falling into his eyes, his ever so unmanageable hair I want to kiss him, I should reply. It's rude to make him wait, but I'm having a heart attack from happiness here.
...
The wind feels really nice in my hair, and I'm looking into those melty eyes and he's spinning me, and I can't feel the ground below my feet 'cause he's picked me up and is spinning me in dizzying circles. Everything's blurred, like there's nothing but me and him in this beautiful colourful blurred world. He's smiling his crooked grin, the world is suddenly blindingly bright and colourful. If I thought the moment I realised I loved the boy was a massive major explosion of colour then this would be a colossal event of gigantic proportions 'cause the world is literally raining colour and fireworks and everything else. The amassed amount of happiness I'm feeling right now would dwarf the universe, making it look like an ant, more like a grain of sand.
James Potter may be an arrogant egotistical idiotic immature prick, but he's my arrogant egotistical idiotic immature prick and I'm never letting him go till the day I die. I'd hold on to him even after I died if I could, depending on what happens after death.
