Disclaimer: these characters ain't mine, griddles! They belong to the very rich, rather famous, jkr.
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Lily.
No, not Lily. She is not Lily. She does not have the gorgeous, sleek red hair or the beautiful green eyes. Nor does she have the perfect proportions and the brilliant smile. Her teeth are crooked. Lily does not have crooked teeth. No. Not at all.
But she is Lily.
No, she isn't.
But she has Lily's swagger, Lily's air of superiority, Lily's house.
No, she isn't Lily. She isn't the goddess of my pantheon, the bezoar to my poison.
But look at her, bent over the potion, her eyes screwed together like Lily's, her fingers brushing the pages of the book with the same reverence as Lily's, the tenderness with which she chops batwings the same as Lily's. How is she not Lily?
She is not Lily.
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
Watch her stand, her bag weighing her down just like Lily's always did. Watch the red-headed boar take her bag like James always used to. Watch the green-eyed Boy Who Lived watch her with brotherly love like Remus used to do. Watch them. She's Lily. My Lily.
No. She isn't. She isn't. She isn't. She isn't. She is.
She is.
She is just like her. Just like my Lily. Just like the way she used to be. Just like her uniform skirt kept riding up causing her to habitually pull it back into place. Just like her arms used to be piled with useless books. Just like her prefect badge used to be shining and pinned perfectly center underneath her house crest. Just like she used to avoid looking at James. Just like she kept close to Remus. Just like…just like Lily.
She is Lily.
I love her. I love my Lily. My Her-No.
I don't love her.
I can't love her.
I can't love the way she gets perfect marks. I can't love the way her cheeks flush when I rebuke her. I can't love the way she smells, even from across the room. I can't love the way she moves. I can't love the way she reads. I can't love the way she talks. I can't love the way she dresses. I can't love the way she holds herself. I can't love the way…
I can't love the way I feel about her.
I can't love the way how every time I see her I get a jolt of excitement surging through my aged body. I can't love the way my mind recalls the sweet, stolen moments with Lily. I can't love the way I think of her, the way I imagine how her body feels against mine, soft, lovely, just like Lily's. I can't love the way my heart breaks every time I see her with the boar. I can't love the way pride swells in me every time she rebukes him with more ferocity than I would have thought possible from the Gryffindor Lioness. I can't love the joy each potions lesson brings. I can't love the pain each potions lesson leaves.
I can't love her.
I can't.
I can.
