Sirius didn't know why their eyes met at that moment. Of course, he had been watching her the whole time. Everyone had been, for the record. She was stunning. So that meant that she was the offender—that those brilliant green eyes of hers had faltered and made contact with his. Purposefully? It seemed that way, as she subtly chewed the inside of her cheek and struggled to look away.
The pause wasn't long enough to stir any suspicions, but Sirius's tie suddenly felt very tight around his neck…
Sirius was friendly with Lily before she could even stand to be in the same room as James. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, but she never seemed to mind Sirius all that much. During sixth year, when Sirius played James's ambassador to Lily, they formed a sort of friendship. Even after she got together with James, even after the engagement, they would still meet up, just the two of them. They had great conversations over a few butterbeers, and he found himself telling her things he never meant to tell anyone, not even his best friend—her boyfriend. He, James, never suspected a thing. Of course there was nothing to be wary of—at least that's what Sirius told himself.
Sometimes he felt guilty. James would gush about how awesome it was that his girlfriend (soon to be fiancée) got along so well with his best friend. Sirius would smile nervously and stress the word 'friend' when discussing Lily. He didn't know why. They were just friends. Nothing had happened at all outside of the 'friend' box. It could only mean that he wanted something to happen. Even that he intended something to happen.
And that's what made him nervous.
Because when he wanted something, he usually got it. And if he had anything to do with it, he almost always got it.
And, apparently, he wanted Lily Evans.
Little changed after the engagement in neither his relationship with her nor his feelings for her. If anything, his feelings deepened and intensified. He pinned this on the availability factor. With each day the wedding grew closer. Although he knew the engagement alone should have discouraged him, he focused on the wedding as an expiration date—a deadline for whatever might happen.
His guilt was a constant companion. He was only alleviated of it when he was alone with Lily—the source of his guilt—lending itself to a vicious cycle he wasn't sure he wanted to escape.
One particular night, after a few too many drinks, she cocked her head and furrowed her brow and told him slowly that she still preferred him to James in some ways. He thought there might have been something inherently troubling about this admission, but then again—what did he know?
He wasn't sure how she found time apart from James to come to Sirius's flat, but he never asked. He turned a blind eye to a lot of her behaviors, because, if he was to be honest, as long as she kept coming back he had no complaints.
No matter how late she stayed, she always left. There was never an arrival without a departure only hours later. After she shut the door he felt hollow for a couple minutes—until the guilt crashed into him, pulling him under. He fell into a restless, exhausted sleep in tangled sheets, knowing that he had to see her again. It was the only antidote.
First it was a stolen kiss—a heated kiss—followed by about twenty minutes of her vigorously denying that it meant anything. She was 'stressed out' and she was 'a mess' and she 'didn't know what had gotten into her.' Sirius was frustrated with her excuses—no one kisses like that when they don't mean it—but agreed with everything she said as he quietly dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. She ended her rant sobbing, crumpled against the wall, shoving him away, rejecting any comfort. Once she calmed she allowed him to put his arms around her. Their lips met, slowly this time. Her eyes were open just a sliver as she gently lifted his chin with her fingers. She left without saying a word. He was too stunned to say what should have been said.
The next time it was not merely a chaste kiss in a time of weakness. She came to his door late one night when he had been almost asleep. He barely had time to say her name before she had leapt on him, arms flung around his shoulders, legs wrapped around his waist. Believing himself helpless, he carried her to his bedroom.
There were no excuses the next morning.
The first word she said when they woke up was "James."
James and I are fighting.
He took in the knowledge, feeling no comfort—like an embrace at a funeral from someone who didn't know the person who died. Well-meaning, but offering no solace.
He didn't say much the first morning; looked on as she gathered her things and quickly cleaned up. She left as if leaving a hotel room. She left as if she were leaving no one behind.
There was an Order party. It was a weird occasion, illogical. Somber, naturally. More a collection of soft conversations over drinks than a party. James seemed to be the only one who didn't see it that way. He was joking around like usual; a spectacle, a convenient excuse to not make small talk but just to look on, entertained. Lily appeared embarrassed by and for her fiancé, and was at Sirius's side shortly into the evening.
They watched him together… his untidy hair and rumpled shirt… thumbing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose every so often, when they slipped down… Sirius knew he would always be James's best friend. He felt obliged to. It was almost a familial relation after so many years.
"I'm thinking of cutting it off. With James," Lily said darkly into her firewhiskey, swirling the glass around so that the dark liquid formed a frothy whirlpool.
The notion sounded absurd to him.
"I think we should stop seeing each other." He let out a heavy breath. The words were out there. They had been said. They hung between them.
"And by seeing each other do you mean sleeping together?" She said it bluntly, harshly.
He was too tired to care if anyone heard her. He nodded.
"It was only a matter of time," she muttered. She stood up and left. He wondered where else she would go. Probably to the same place she always went when she left.
Later on, the night became a more subdued event. James had evidently worn himself out and was sitting, practically unresponsive, next to Lily. They were holding hands though, and she was rubbing his with her thumb gently, methodically. It struck Sirius that he and Lily had never done that—held hands. It was such a simple thing. At the same time it was remarkable.
It was only three days before she turned up on his doorstep again. He said her name, a warning. She laughed, a trembling hysteria, and shook her head. One word had him raising the white flag: please.
He would lie in bed, beside her sleeping form, and feel that he was spinning down, down into an abyss every time he closed his eyes. He would absolve that he would confront her in the morning - in the morning - and it would all be over. But he could never get past the first few words - Look, Lily, we can't… - before her quivering lower lip rendered him helpless and evaporated all his good intentions.
He knew she had to be the one to end the vicious cycle. And ultimately she was. One morning he awoke to her gathering up her things. He wasn't sure what had changed, but when she left his flat, without a word, without even turning around, there was a sense of finality. He realized he didn't want her to turn around. He didn't want to remember that he was getting hurt, that he was being left. Walked out on. No one walks out on Sirius Black.
All that he thought of was that she was returning to James, where she belonged. It was for the greater good. Sirius reveled in her triumph, reveled in his own broken heart.
She opened her mouth slightly and it stayed that way for a moment. Her eyes darted back to where she was supposed to be looking and her face softened instantly.
Sirius realized that it was over. Everything was over.
Lily smiled and squeezed James's hand. "I do."
A/N: Thanks for reading, please leave a review! Sort of based on Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses by U2 by the lyrics weren't really working as a part of this fic so I just left them out.