How to Handle a Woman
Chapter 1:
A/N: Since I was first introduced to fanfiction, I have wanted to write a good, thorough Lily/James fic. Unfortunately, that never happened. Instead there is this fic, which is a basic, barebones love story. It incorporates my basic plot plan from the overly planned early versions, but without the lame, melodramatic extra plot devices that revolved around the other characters. Those plots might come out someday in good form by way of other fics, but not here. I will try to explain my homemade characters as I go if need be, but they play a VERY small part in this story. All you need to know for chapter 1 is that "Liv" is Lily's closest female friend. Also, if you read the really long A/N that opened "The Long and Winding Road" (my earlier oneshot), know that I have probably changed those characters slightly since that publication to fit with Deathly Hallows and this new version of the Lily/James romance. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potters, or anything else from the brain of J.K. Rowling. The lyrics below are the lovely creation of Learner and Lowe, and appear in their musical, Camelot.
How to handle a woman?
"There's a way," said the wise old man,
"a way known by every woman
since the whole rigmarole began."
"Do I flatter her?" I begged of him, "Answer.
Do I threaten, or cajole, or plead?"
Said he smiling, "No indeed.
How to handle a woman?
Mark me well, I will tell you sir.
The way to handle a woman is to love her;
Simply love her,
Merely love her,
Love her,
Love her.
She was appalled with herself. She had spent so much of her time trying to stamp out stereotypes, and had spectacularly failed to see the one she had formed in her own heart. She knew that people could change, and that it was common for teens to put on behavioral masks in order to hide their true hearts, but had she ever given him a chance? She was no better than the rest when it came to him, and she had needed a broken friendship to see this fault in herself.
To say Snape had created the problem would be naïve. From the moment James Potter had opened his mouth in her presence and let slimy, underhanded condescension ooze out all over the train compartment, Lily had categorized him. For years, she had written him off as a trouble-maker and a lost cause, never once thinking that he could look on her with real longing of any kind, wholesome or otherwise. She had always been so focused on his boasting and academic laziness, that she had failed to leave room in her mind for James Potter to have a heart, a soul, or any feelings to be hurt.
But after the O.W.L.s, things had changed. As she pushed Severus away, she found that James Potter began to look less horrible, even human.
It began with confusion. After the incident by the lake, Lily had expected every aspect of her life over which James had control to stay largely the same. She had expected him, in truth, to be insensitive and oblivious, and to never consider what might have happened between Severus and herself. But for the portion of the school year which remained after the quarrel, James saw fit to steer clear of the brooding redhead. When she realized this, she assumed he was simply afraid that she might explode at him again or assert her prefect powers upon him in a negative light. However, the events of the train ride home made her think otherwise.
The compartment, but much to her surprise it was not Liv.
"Oh, sorry, I thought Peter was in here." James Potter turned to go, looking extremely guilty and apologetic, but he stopped almost immediately, and slid the compartment door shut. Turning slowly back around, he took a deep, anxious breath, and began to speak. "Look, Lily," he began, with a expression of pure and honest shame, "I need to apologized for the other day by the lake…"
That familiar feeling
of appreciative annoyance rose in her throat; she really didn't
like to talk about the episode after the Defense Against the Dark
Arts O.W.L., and whenever anyone felt the need to bring it up in her
presence, she made it her habit to jump right in with a subject
change or snappy comment. "You don't need to apologize," she
replied, letting her irritation shine through as boldly as she dared.
"You're not the one who called me that ghastly name."
"I
know, but it's really my fault that he did…I'm sorry." And he
was out the door before she was even fully struck by the sincere
regret painted across his face.
