"Always." - Severus Snape
It had to happen. It was inevitable, but she was crying. That idiot would break her heart, and everyone had known it. But she still cried. Her paper-thin, roseate lips were parted in an 'o' with those angelic eyes staring at him like he had committed the crime, that he was responsible for the tears running down her flushed cheeks. Her mates glanced accusingly at him. It was not his fault.
Girls were perplexing creatures with their fantastic expressions and movements, and James could not begin to fathom them.
Lily Evans would forgive and forget.
She always had.
"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave of heart!' Like my dad." - James Potter
Her hand tightly clung to her best friend's, and he squeezed back in assurance. Don't worry, he had said. Everything would be alright. Yet the young witch couldn't help but worry, her rapt eyes devouring the sparks of magic and the odd words from the older students already in their uniforms with the eagerness that would one day make Lily Evans one of the brightest students of her year. Now though, it was her spell to hearten the pale, distraught lad next to him.
"Oh, don't you worry." Lily Evans said. "We'll be best friends forever no matter what."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He used to love her.
But he had never liked her.
He used to say, "I love you."
But he had never once said, "I like you."
That was because he had never once liked her. The clock that timed her breaths, the beats of her heart, must have had a crooked gear. Lily Evans had always been irritating with her hearty snorts, those childish grins that set his heart beating and his pulse racing. Undeniably, she was likeable enough with lavish, pretty words and an odd warmth to the first years, but he had never liked her.
He had loved her. She glowed. She was radiant. It wasn't those little quirks that led him to shroud his enraptured grin but her presence. Lily Evans had a presence, a warm and beautiful presence, that rooted his love for her. He loved her, he wasn't in love with her, he didn't like her, but he loved her.
Lily Evans was an angel, and no one could like angels.
Love is hot, swollen with time, fragile by words, sparked up by faint touches and shared smiles. It's a flame muffled by coals, but it's a flame that led civilizations to bloodthirsty wars. But flames died quickly, and he no longer loved her. He had been a moth, drawn to her flame, but now her presence was just a warm tinge. That was all.
And dammit, it was over no matter what Moony bloody said. Moony wasn't female and therefore could not have bloody female intuition.
He liked her now. Liked her. Not loved. Liked. He liked her. He liked the little things that infuriated him a year ago, liked seeing her smile. It was not a like-like thing. Like-like things were incredibly complex and included ridiculous flowers, chocolates, and concepts like fancying. James Potter fancied girls like Delilah Isles, girls who weren't angels. He had never once like-liked or fancied Lily Evans.
The clock that ticked Lily Evans had enough of heartbeats and breathes for him. Her time for him had ran out. She would not forgive him. He asked. He pleaded. He begged. One last time. Please. Please.
"Evans?"
"I'm..."
"Please - I swear-"
"Potter, really-"
"Lily."
"I'm sorry, James."
She would apologize, but she would not forgive him.
He had stopped trying. Stopped owling her letters with his messy scrawl clumsily scattered on the parchment, stopped talking to the beautiful girl. It was difficult. It was. He did it. He was over her. He did not love Lily. He told that to Mary once. Mary was a flame crackling in the hearth. Almost unnoticed, almost invisible, but the capability to be deadly was certain with her every graceful movement, every raised eyebrows, every half-smile. She smelled like smoke.
"You messed it up, James."
"It's because of my love for you. Mixed signals, love."
Mary snorted. "If you say so."
There had been an unsettling quiet. The world had stopped steering towards the sun, towards the light, so Mary could say what she said next. Her words would set of a series of events no one could have ever predicted.
"You never loved her, James."
Then she left, and the world erupted back into noise. Mary was wrong. He had loved her. He had. What did Mary know? Nothing. She knew nothing. He loved her. He did. He did. He did.
Time went on though. Lily Evans continued life. So did James Potter. Life went on. He still laughed. He broke rules. He was chaos and no green eyes could rein him in. Weeks went on. Months went on. A summer went by. They were housemates. She would sometimes lend him notes. He would never prank her. She would sometimes nod at his general direction. He would sometimes smile. They had grown up, but she still hadn't forgiven him.
It was a cordial relationship.
And it was enough. James Potter stared up at the ceiling, thinking very hard about how much he didn't love Lily Evans.
There were two even sets of breath behind the flimsy door, something that she had never heard before. There was a soft hush of a breath followed by a sharp intake along with a gentle snore from the other occupant of the room. Her sister had boyfriends, many boyfriends, and there was one behind the door. They made her smile. Sometimes the appeal of the dull chatter about mortgage was impossible to comprehend, and sometimes she really wanted to smack their faces, but it was all worth it if Tuney smiled. And as it went, this one was dishy with the infectious grin and curls. 'Doc' as he called himself.
Lily smiled at the man dreaming behind the door, and she dreamed that he smiled back.
Hesitantly, she slipped past the doorway, her heart aching as she went by her parent's room. There was only one set of breath there. Her dad wasn't breathing. He never would again. It hurt every time.
The night air was hot, swallowing every breath of cool hair. It was as dry as her throat. It had been months since it rained last. She had woken up to a rush of loud motion, a yell, a crash. Once upon a time, long, long ago, she would have carelessly dismissed it as the neighbor's cat knocking down one of the dull, green trash cans teetering in the trimmed lawns.
It was war now. Everything was different. There was a low flicker of light and a hushed swear word. Hugging her drssing gown closer to her, she silently crept by, edging nearer to the two men talking amongst themselves. One was an upright bear, fierce and ready to take down anything in his way. The teenager clenched her fists fearfully, earnestly wishing she had taken her wand with her. The other man was curled up on the ground. There was a curious, tangy scent. Blood.
It only took a drowsy glance at the face of the man on the ground for her to recognize him, for her to cry out. Even with the low muttering of the men, her voice was sharp. "Ohmygod. Oh. My. God."
He whirled around, moving to the side so his cloak shielded his fallen comrade. His face was brutally sharp even under the dim glow of the streetlights. "Miss, this is strictly government-"
But almost as if she didn't hear his low growl, she frantically moved past him, falling to her knees to the wizard on the ground. There was blood. A metallic taste in the air and his leg drenched in an angry red. The world was spinning too fast, and she couldn't keep up. Something in her was reciting facts, telling the girl that the leg needed pressure on the wound and that these men were magic and that she looked like a muggle.
The other man swore again, louder. "I bloody insist, ma'am -"
"Is Benjy alright? What the - what's he doing here? Anyone could see you lot, running about wearing robes." Her words came out in a rush, a babble difficult for anyone to properly hear. There was just too much to say. She had to tell him how to help her former classmate, that they looked ridiculous in ther robes, and that she had a spare broomstick if they needed one.
The words wouldn't come out.
The other man's protest finally fell silent, looking at her inquiringly. "Magic, aye?" He said, half to himself and half to the wizard and witch near him. "Auror business."
"Oh."
"S' Evans, s'in't it?" Benjy said with a wildly brilliant grin on his face, seeming delighted by her company despite her gash running down his leg. "Haven't seen you in ages, my God, how are you lot? Still up to no good, Miss Lily Evans, aye? Gorgeous hair like I told you, honestly. Oi, Moody, s'this Lily's hair? It's damned gorgeous hair."
"Keep your bloody socializing for later, will you, Fenwick?" The apparent Moody said, glancing with exasperation at his companion. "You sound hysterical. Yes, it is her hair."
While the usual Benjy Fenwick was nothing short of a gentleman, a fatally wounded one didn't fit the same standard. If Lily had to guess, she would have to say he was drunk. As tactfully as she could, she tried to slip it in her cautious reply. "Lovely to see you, Benjy. Alright there? Road looks a tad uncomfortable. Er... did you have a firewhisky or something?"
Moody responded before Benjy could. "He's an idiot, not drunk. You live here. Have something you could lend?'
Making a vague, wand-like motion with her hands, Lily said, "Can't you just... heal it up?"
"He bloody broke my wand."
"...what?"
"Hard of hearing? Well, he fu-"
Lily hastened to cut him off. "Gotcha."
"Please, just, God, please don't."
It was a plea, but it was alien. That voice was too proud, to stiff, to ask him of something so gently. Those eyes never cried. Black eyes never did.
"Get the he-"
He was cut off.
"You can't leave me alone here. S-"
"I had enough."
Door slammed. There was no rain, but it was raining enough inside. He would run away. He had enough. He had bloody enough. And for a second, he felt free. Like he escaped. But then the door opened behind him.
I've always wanted a shot at trying to fill those blanks of James and Lily's sixth and seventh year and here I go. While this is mainly their story, it's also the story of the year in general. It'll be narrated between differing perspectives, mainly James and Lily, but others s'well. I'm wondering if the characters are characterized well, since it was somewhat difficult to try to write them, and any feedback on that or in general would be brilliant.
Reviews are as cute as kittens.
The first quote, "Always," is said in page 687 of Chapter thirty three of The Deathly Hallows of the USA paperback edition, and the second quote, "Gryffindor, where dwell the brave of heart! Like my dad," is credited to page 671 of chapter thirty three of The Deathly Hallows of the USA paperback edition - written by JK Rowling.