Disclaimer: I wish I was J.K. Rowling and that I owned all these wonderful characters. Sadly, I am not and do not.
Author's note: This is far different than anything I've ever written on here. It's... well, I'll just let you form your own opinions about it. Please, share those opinions in a review! I always, always, always, reply to my reviewers and I would seriously appreciate. Enjoy!
I remember, very clearly, the first moment I saw her. It was on the train our first year at Hogwarts. I was scouring the train for an empty compartment with Sirius and we passed by her, sitting by herself reading. A wisp of fiery hair fell before her eye and she pushed it away absentmindedly, concentrating hard on her textbook. I must have stood there a moment too long as Sirius joked with a childhood friend, because she glanced up, her penetrating emerald gaze locking onto my own. She cocked her head, questioning. I remember feeling as though she could see right through me. I found this slightly unsettling, but intriguing. This all lasted just several heartbeats before Sirius called me away, oblivious to whatever it was that had just occurred.
I discovered later, before the feast, that her name was Lily Evans and, luckily enough, she was sorted into Gryffindor as well. I felt a certain attraction towards her, though I didn't have the slightest clue why. I was only eleven, after all. I just had this need to be near her. Unfortunately, she did not share this need in the least during our years at Hogwarts. In fact, it was just the opposite. Her abhorrence of me was apparent in our every encounter. We quarreled constantly, never in agreement. Her hatred grew when, as I entered adolescence, I constantly asked her to join me in Hogsmead. She always shot me down, an annoyed "Absolutely not, Potter." Determined as always, I refused to give up. It became almost like a game, at least in Sirius' eyes. Would Lily Evans ever give in?
Eventually, after several years, my perseverance fizzled out. More accurately, I just grew up. It was apparent that Lily did not share my feelings and that she never would. I threw myself into Quidditch and my studies and by seventh year, I was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and Head Boy. Lily also made Head Girl and, oddly enough, we were almost friends, though my feelings for her never faded.
When Sirius told me about a month ago that Lily had started dating another boy in our year, Henry Campbell, I was furious, and heartbroken. It had been unexpected. There are still several dents in the lockers down at the Quidditch pitch. Now, however, I understand. I have no claim on her per her request and therefore no justifiable right to be angry over her newfound relationship. All I want is for her to be happy. Preferably, her happiness would have something to do with me, but it doesn't.
Despite my new maturity, I find myself involuntarily clenching my fists as I walk into our shared Common Room in the Head Dormitory and see them on the crimson sofa, lips at her neck, hand stroking her stomach beneath her white Oxford shirt. I pause for half a beat, take a deep breath. My skin is hot.
"Afternoon Lily. Campbell," I say, walking past toward my chambers.
"Oh! James. Hello." Her voice is a bit shrill. She pushes him off of her with some difficultly as he seems pretty reluctant to cease his ministrations and she's obviously embarrassed. Her cheeks flush considerably.
I don't stop to chat. I can't. Instead, I grab my broom and head to the pitch. I need to let loose a little aggression.
Several hours pass. It's late, I know, past curfew, but I couldn't care less. I'm finally calming down. I see Sirius striding towards the pitch, his walk obviously confident, even from this great height. His eyes are on me as I vigorously run different plays. My mind is focused solely on the wind whipping across my face, the familiar comfort of my broom beneath me and that catch in my hip whenever I bank a hard right. Different scenarios for our next three games and the three after those whiz though my mind as I avoid the subject of Lily and Henry completely. She doesn't know it, but she is probably the reason our team is doing so well this season. I spend an inordinate amount of time avoiding thinking of her.
Sirius stops at the edge of the pitch, head tilted towards the sky, waiting. His hands are in his pockets and I know his fingers are absently tracing patterns on his wand. I swoop down and hover before him. He just looks at me and I look right back, silent and unwavering.
"Running plays?" he finally asks.
"Yeah," I reply.
"Lily?" Sirius may act like an asshole much of the time, but in all truth, he's my best friend. He knows when something is wrong and he almost always knows the cause of it.
I do not give any sort of affirmation, but he assumes correctly anyway. He nods, claps me on the back and watches as I return to the sky.
I stay out for another hour or so and when I return to the ground, I'm sweaty and exhausted. All I want is to sleep. I walk to the dormitory and my head is finally clear. There isn't a trace of anger or jealousy or hurt tainting my thoughts. I toss my broom and gear by the arm chair near the entrance. I look up and see Lily staring into the fire, clearly deep in thought. Her eyes find mine when she hears me and I'm all muddled again. I can't think straight. She seems troubled and it takes all I have not to stride over to her and take her in my arms, to smooth the creases between her knit brows.
"James," she begins. Her voice is soft, tentative. "I've been waiting for you."
"Oh?"
"I would like to apologize to you… for earlier. I hadn't realized you had returned and you… well, I'm just sorry that you had to see that." She averts her gaze, eyes riveted on the ornate carpet.
"It's fine, Lily. Really." It's not, but I can't bear to see her upset.
"Still. I'm really sorry, James." She's looking at me again. I feel frozen. "If you'd like, I won't bring him here anymore. If it makes you uncomfortable."
"No, no. It's fine. This is your dormitory too. You have every right to bring your friends here."
It's fine. It's fine. It's fine. These words run through my mind again and again, like a broken record player, a mantra. It's fine. It's fine. It's fine.
"Are you sure?" She's standing now, wringing her hands in distress. My heart swells for her. I can't help but ask myself why the fuck she has this effect on me.
"Yeah Lily. Of course." And for the moment, what I'm saying is true. I would say anything, do anything, if I could make her happy.
"Thank you," she says. Unexpectedly, uncharacteristically, she rushes to me and embraces me. I'm surprised, but pleasantly so. My skin is humming. I hug her back tightly. "Goodnight James."
"Goodnight Lily," I murmur as she walks to her room.
I go to my own room, both completely wired and even more exhausted than before. I lay in bed for what seems like forever before I can finally go to sleep. I can still feel the ghost of her embrace.
I'm tired and sore when I rise for classes just a few hours later. My eyes are bleary and my inky hair is a complete mess. I hop in the shower and let the scalding water hammer against my aching muscles. I stand under the water longer than I probably should. I get out and wrap a towel loosely around my waist, all of a sudden aware of how little time I have to get down to breakfast. I run smack into Lily on my way to my room. My hands instinctively grab her shoulders to steady her and in the process, I almost lose my towel. The moment I grasp her, she goes stiff as a board, eyes wide, almost panicked. I let go, take a step back.
"Sorry," I mutter.
"It's ok. My fault actually. I'm running late and I wasn't looking where I was going." Her gaze is steady on the cold hardwood floor. She seems slightly embarrassed. This feels out of place, until I realize that I'm practically naked.
"Sorry," I say again, my eyes fixed on the wall behind her. I swiftly return to my room. When the fuck did we revert back to this awkwardness, this inability to even make eye contact?
She and I end up leaving for breakfast at the same time. I stand back to allow her to exit before me. The moment she's out of the portrait hole, Henry is by her side. I see her take a deep breath, as though this has startled her. He takes her hand and leads her to the Great Hall. I'm getting angry again. I decide to take an alternative route.
Henry and Lily eat at the Gryffindor table at a section away from everyone else. This is substantially annoying. Henry isn't even in our house; he's a Hufflepuff. Remus and Sirius try to distract me. I play along, pretending like watching her from the corner of my eye isn't tearing me in two. They don't exactly buy it, I can tell, but they pretend as though they do, because they can tell that I am really, really not in the mood to discuss this, to work through it.
The rest of my day is a blur. I go to class. I try to distract myself. It doesn't exactly work, but I have to give myself credit for trying. When Anthea, a witch in our year, approaches me, shamelessly flirting, I even try to flirt back. Really, all I do is flash a few dazzling grins, but she runs with it. I do, however, extract myself from the conversation before it goes beyond flirting, before she asks for an innocent stroll around the lake (as though any stroll by the lake is this atrociously frigid weather would be done with pure innocent intent) or to accompany her to Hogsmead this weekend.
I arrive to the Heads' common room just a half hour before curfew. I see that Lily and (thankfully) Henry are not there. The door to her chambers is open and I see that it is vacant. I let myself fall onto the plush crimson sofa, the warmth of the fire seeping into my bones, making every ache disappear, if only for a moment.
I hear Lily enter the room not five minutes later. I can hear her breathing hard, quickly. I look over and see that she is shaking or maybe she's shivering. Her cheeks are red red red.
"Lily!" I realize that my voice is a bit loud, my enunciation rushed. There's this feeling in the pit of my stomach, this worry, and I don't know why. I stand, beginning to walk towards her and take a deep breath, lower my voice. "What's wrong?"
She shakes her head. "It's nothing. Just chilly is all." Her voice is wavering. She can tell. She plasters on a smile that doesn't reach her eyes and says, "You'd think in a castle full of magic, someone would be able to heat the corridors." She's still shivering.
"You'd think," I mutter. I wrap my arm around her should. She stiffens at first, as if startled by the sudden contact, but relaxes after a moment. I lead her toward the sofa. "Come on. Let's get you warmed up."
I rub my hand up and down her arm quickly, trying to use friction, while I point my wand at the fire and make it blaze just a bit brighter. She's still shaking, but not quite as much. My hand slows but doesn't stop. She rests her head on my shoulder, eyes fluttering as though she can't keep them closed, but doesn't want to keep them open either.
I want her to tell me what's wrong, what's bothering her, but I know she won't. It's this knowledge that deflates my heart even as it soars at her proximity.
Her breathing becomes deep and even and I realize that she has fallen asleep. I don't want to wake her, so I take her in my arms, one beneath her knees and the other around her back. She shifts slightly, her head coming to rest more comfortably on my chest. I sigh. There's just something about her, this pull almost, and I can't helping feeling as though this is right. This is how it should be. I lay her in her bed and while I bring the covers up around her, she murmurs something unintelligible. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful. I briefly wonder how anyone could blame me for loving her so completely, how anyone could keep themselves from loving her as well. Almost without thinking, as though I'm lost in some daydream, I brush my lips to her forehead, reveling in the feel of her smooth, flawless skin. I have to stop myself from whispering, "I love you."
The next couple weeks pass without incident. Henry walks Lily down to breakfast every morning, as well as to lunch, dinner and each of her classes. They eat every meal together, secluded from the rest of the house at the Gryffindor table. More often than not, he escorts her back to the Heads' Tower after curfew. I try not to let this bother me, but it does. It sets a fire in veins, an icy steel in my gaze. I can't help it, though I wish more than anything that it—she—didn't have this effect on me.
I'm patrolling tonight. I'm alone, per Lily's request to have the night off to spend with Henry. I was tempted to say no, but her happiness is more important to me. I meander through the corridors, no real direction in mind. I come around a corner and see Lily and Henry in an alcove. His thumb and first finger hold her chin and as she tries to look away, he forces her to look back at him.
"I love you," he says, voice hard, almost stern.
"I know." Her own voice in barely above a whisper. She looks down at the ground.
"Look at me."
She does.
He waits.
"I love you too," she says. Though it's soft, I can tell she really does mean it.
My nostrils flare unintentionally. My hands clench into fists. My fingernails dig into my palm. I'm angry. Angry at Henry, for being with her. Angry at Lily, for loving him. Angry at myself, for standing here, out of sight, and watching it all. Most of all, I'm upset. It's official to me now. She's in love, and it's not with me.
I go back to the common room, decide to patrol via the Marauder's Map. I don't have it in me to wander about the castle anymore.
She comes back to the tower just a half hour later. When she enters, I look at her, really look at her. Honestly, it's the first chance I've had that I've been willing to utilize in weeks.
Her hair seems limp, no longer holding any of the body it had before. Her eyes are dull, no longer gleaming with wit and that mischievous streak I know she is capable of. There are dark circles beneath her eyes and her skin is pale pale pale. I'm confused. Where is the soft glow of first love? Where is the twinkle of happiness in her emerald gaze? This isn't what she's supposed to look like. Not at all.
I'm about to say something, but she downcasts her eyes, mumbles a "goodnight James" and shuffles to her room.
I try and brush it off, but for the next several days, it's all I can think about. I want to know what happened to Lily, my Lily. Where is the happy, vivacious, animated girl I fell for and who the fuck has replaced her?
When I speak with the boys about it, Sirius says that I'm reading too much into it, that she's probably just stressed out juggling her classes and being Head Girl and spending the sufficient amount of time with Henry. Remus agrees, though he seems contemplative. He suggests that I give it some time, let her work through it a bit before I try and intervene. Peter, well, Peter never has been that helpful in the female department.
That night, when Lily comes back to the tower, I turn to look at her again. I want to know if I'm imagining everything. All thoughts of appearance, of her essence, dissipate instantly when my eyes land on her. I take a sharp breath and I'm beside her in a heartbeat.
"Lily." I'm only whispering, but my words are intense, heavy with emotion. "What the fuck happened to you?"
She has a fairly deep slice through her right eyebrow and her eye is swollen almost completely shut. It's in the process of turning a dark black and blue. There's another cut on the back of her thigh, blood streaming from it relatively steadily and I see that her palms are all scraped up. There are streaks of wet down her cheeks and I see that her eyes and brimming with tears.
She's staring at the fire. She doesn't answer me. I don't think my words even made it into her consciousness.
I take her chin in my hand, similar to how I saw Henry do it the other night. I realize, without knowing how, that my touch is infinitely more gentle than his had been that night. Her eyes flutter closed and with the action, several tears spill onto her cheeks.
"Lily, what happened?" I'm staring down at her and I know how intense my gaze is, but I don't care. I want an answer, 'cause I don't like the place my mind is going. "What happened?"
"What?" she starts. "Oh! This?"
I nod, impatient.
She gives a little laugh. There is not emotion behind it. It only lasts for a moment.
"I tripped going down the stairs a few minutes ago." She shrugs and I see her wince at the movement. "Fell down the whole flight and knocked my eye on the rail."
I stroke her cheek and her eyes close once more.
"Right," I say, calming down. I have this horrible feeling deep down, but I can't place it. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"
She nods.
I lead her into the bathroom. I tackle the injury on her leg. I mend it quickly, but I know it must still be tender. I take a wet washcloth and wipe up the blood staining her skin. She stiffens each time I get close to the healed gash and my heart constricts every time. I take her hands in mine next, one at a time, and wash away the dirt and blood on her palms.
"Sorry Lily," I whisper. "There's nothing I can do about the black eye. Madame Pomfrey can't even heal one."
"It's fine," she replies, just as softly. She looks exhausted.
I heal the cut on her brow and hold a cool cloth to her eye until the swelling goes down a bit.
"I'm sorry I'm such a dozy cow," she murmurs.
"You're not a dozy cow, Lily," I laugh.
I help her to stand and we begin walking to her room.
"You're a bit clumsy, apparently, but you are not a dozy cow." I offer her a slow smile and she gives me one in return.
"Thank you for helping me, James." She's staring up at me and I'm drowning in the abyss of all that emerald. My heart swells painfully. She's so fucking beautiful, inside and out, even with a swollen eye. Again, I think that I can't help but love her.
She wraps her arms around my middle and rests her head on my chest. I hug her back and I never want to let go, but I do. I tuck her into bed and she looks up at me. For a moment, I see this infinite amount of sadness, but the second I recognize it, it's gone.
"You scared me tonight, Lily." My voice is barely a whisper, but I know she can hear me. "Please be more careful."
She nods slowly.
And this time, before I leave her room, I place a chaste kiss on her forehead, wholly intentionally.
I wake to a guttural scream at three in the morning. In an instant, I am out of bed and by Lily's. She's thrashing about her in sleep, groaning, as though trying to scream again. I take her shoulder in my hand and shake her gently.
"Lily. Lily! Wake up!"
Suddenly, her eyes are open and she looks absolutely terrified.
"Oh! James. What are you—what are you doing in here?" She's trying to calm her breathing, but it's not working very well. She sits up.
"You were screaming. I thought something was wrong. Were you dreaming?"
"Um, yeah," she breathes. "Nightmare."
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.
She shakes her head and a few tears slide down her visage.
I wipe away her tears with my thumb.
"Go back to sleep, Lily. I'm—"
"James! Wait," she cuts me off. "Can you… can you stay in here, please?"
I know how much she hates to ask for help, how she loathes sounding weak. I realize just how frightened she must be.
"Of course," I answer.
She scoots over to make room on her bed. I'm surprised. I thought that I'd be spending the night cramped on one of the chairs brought in from the common room. I crawl into bed with her and she immediately rests her head on my chest, by my shoulder. I slide my arm around her, smoothing comforting circles into her back. She relaxes almost instantly, but soon, soft sobs rack her frame.
I close my eyes, my heart tearing for the pain she's in.
"Shh, shh. It's ok. Shh. Everything's going to be fine. I'm here." I murmur into her hair until her sobbing subsides and she falls asleep. I drift into a light sleep, waking every so often to make sure she's ok.
In the morning, I wake and she's curled against me. For a moment, I cannot recall why exactly she's next to me, and I wonder what blessed miracle has brought her to me. But then I remember.
When she rises, she merely looks at me for a moment, long and deep, and says a heartfelt, "Thank you, James."
I just shake my head. I look at her eye. The swelling has gone down some, but it's as black and blue as ever.
She hurries to the bathroom and we both start our daily routines to get ready for the day. When we exit our dormitory, Henry is waiting for her. He takes her face in his hands and traces her black eye with his thumb. She winces and, ever so slightly, turns her head to pull away, but he keeps it in place, studying the black and blue. I'm glaring at him, though I'm not exactly sure why. I walk past them and head to the Great Hall, unable to deal with watching Campbell touch her.
At breakfast, I watch Lily. She looks so sad, so lonely. I just want her to be happy, but I don't know how to help her. I'm not even completely sure of what's wrong with her. Merlin, I just wish she would fucking talk to me. I wish she would just trust me.
Several nights later, I'm patrolling—alone again; Lily barely patrols with me at all anymore. I turn a different corner, come across a different alcove, but I see Lily and Henry once again. It's far more intimate this time, obviously not something they would particularly want another person walking in on. I'm about to avert my gaze, horrified and slightly embarrassed, though I've done nothing wrong, when I see, I mean really see, what's happening.
Henry's got her pressed up against the wall, her hands locked in his above her head. She only has one sleeve of her white Oxford shirt on. Her skirt is pushed up crudely and her simple, white panties are puddles around her ankles. He's gyrating against her, hard, fast. This would be relatively fine, normally. But my eyes rake over her bare skin and see bruises, too many bruises, covering her arms, her stomach, her chest, her thighs. Some are purple, others a deep navy blue, a few the sickening yellow of a healing contusion. My eyes fly to her face and I see that her own eyes are screwed shut. A grimace contorts her features. Tears pour from her closed eyes.
Rage ignites within me. In the split second I realize what's going on, I also realize that I have never been this angry before. My skin is on fire. My stomach clenches in on itself. My eyes narrow to slits. I'm by his side quickly, but he doesn't notice me. My hand clasps his shoulder in a death grip. I wrench him off her, throwing him to the other side of the corridor.
"Oi! What the hell do you think you're doing Potter?" He shouts, obviously miffed.
Lily's eyes are open now; she stares at me, then Henry, then me again. She's horrified. I pull her away and begin down the corridor towards the Heads' tower.
"Fuck off, Campbell." My voice is not loud, but it's lethal. Venom drips off every word. "This is not the end of this."
"Damn right it's not!" He bellows after me.
I ignore him. Lily is sobbing. I'm afraid she's not able to breathe. We stop. I wrap my arms around her small, shaking body.
"Lily, shh, Lily. It's ok now. Everything's ok. It's all over. Shh," I whisper. Inside, I'm cursing him. I allow a small part of my mind to contemplate how, exactly, to punish him. The rest of my mind is delegated to getting Lily to safety, to calming her, to fixing her.
I gather her in my arms, carrying her back to the tower as I had that night, all those weeks ago, when she came home shaking. I bring her to my room and sit her on the bed. I pull out a pair of my sweatpants and a ratty old shirt. She's completely hysterical. Her wails echo off the stone walls. I continue to whisper to her, but it has no effect.
Her shirt is still half off. I pull off her other sleeve, careful to hide my horror when I see her skin up close. It's a mosaic of contusions. It makes me sick. I pull my shirt over her head, minding her bruises. I remove her skirt and quickly help her put on my pants. She's still sobbing. She collapses into me, face in my chest, arms around my neck.
"Oh, James. I'm so sorry," she weeps. "It's all my fault. I'm so, so sorry."
I'm incredulous. "Sorry? For what? Nothing that has happened has been you're fault. Nothing. That fucking ass hole will rot in Hell for what he's done to you, Lily. I swear to you."
She cries harder.
"I'm going to fucking kill him," I mutter, anger still hot in my veins.
"Just stay with me. Please?" She blubbers. "Please?"
"Of course, Lily. I'll stay with you."
I lay with her until her tears subside and she finally falls into a deep sleep. Once I'm sure she won't wake again, I leave the tower and head straight for the Gryffindor dormitories. When I enter the boys' dormitory, I see that Sirius, Remus and Peter are fast asleep. I go to Sirius.
"Sirius. Sirius! Wake the fuck up!" I shake him and I'm not exactly gentle.
"What the—Prongs? Is that you? What the fuck are you doing here?" His eyes are bleary and annoyed. When he sees my expression, though, he's concerned. "What's happened?"
I fill him in, telling him what I saw tonight, what I saw Campbell do, what I saw on Lily's skin. Once I've finished, he looks almost as angry as I am.
"I need—I just… I just need you to do something to him. I can't… I'll fucking kill him if I try. I need to stay with Lily anyhow."
"Of course, Prongs." Sirius nods solemnly.
"Thanks Padfoot," I say sincerely, before exiting Gryffindor and returning to Lily.
She's still sound asleep in my bed and I crawl in beside her. Almost instantly, she's nestled next to me.
"Thank you, James," I hear her murmur almost inaudibly. "So much."
"Always Lily, always," I breathe. I kiss her hair and I look down at her. She's so fucking beautiful, bruised and broken, she is still so beautiful. I may imagine it, but I can see her glow, the essence of Lily that used to fill up an entire room with her presence. It's dim, but it's there. There's nothing I want more than to help build her back up, help fix her, help her shine brighter than ever before. Part of me knows it's going to be hard, so hard. But another part of me, a stronger, bigger part, knows that it's for her and that makes everything worth it. Because, honestly, I can't help but love her.