Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, those books would not be about Harry Potter, but about the parents of Harry Potter.
Author's Note: This is just a little one-shot I thought I'd do. It's not much really and a bit different than anything I've done. I'd really appreciate if you would review. Also, A Fragment should be updating within the next few days. Thanks so much. Enjoy.
I'd never believed in true love. That's why I'd always turned him down. Love isn't real, you see. It is just this big cluster of hormones and lust that dies out after a while. After all, the couples you see in the corridors always break up. The married pairs always stop "loving" each other. People spend their lives wishing and dreaming of this silly emotion that, in all actuality, does not exist.
So when James Potter proclaimed his undying love to me in the middle of Charms in our fifth year at Hogwarts, I laughed.
"You love me, eh?" I snorted. "That's a right laugh."
"And why is that?" He queried, his eyebrows knitting together in handsome confusion.
"Because love isn't real." I stated, my tone hinting that I believed the fact to be obvious.
For once, James Potter appeared to be absolutely stunned. "You can't actually believe that."
"I can and I do." I attempted to pay attention to Professor Flitwick, but James persisted.
"But why?" His voice was incredulous and he looked upon me with complete horror glimmering behind the hazel of his eyes.
"Because no one ever stays in 'love'." I replied, complying.
"But— But that's not true!" James had an odd quality of determined perseverance when he wanted.
"It most certainly is. Now stop being such a damned prat and let me take my notes." My patience was wearing thin; I longed for him to just drop the subject in its' entirety as it was not something I particularly liked to discuss.
"I don't understand, Lily. How could you think that?"
"Because my parents haven't spoken to each other in a manner that could be remotely described as civilly since I was three. Because each person in this room has had at least one failed attempt at a relationship. Because I am a realist and not some sick romantic dreamer." I retorted, my tone becoming more and more irritated with each word escaping my lips.
James simply looked at me with an intensity that made me to yearn to look away. Pity softened his warm hazel eyes and he almost— almost reached out to touch my face. His hand halfway there, he pulled back and looked away, unknown thoughts twirling dizzily in his mind.
I turned to my notes, trying desperately to shake that feeling that his unwavering stare had left me with. I silently cursed Flitwick for placing me next to James. He should have known how utterly awkward and distracting this would be.
I could still feel James' gaze. "James, honestly. Just pay attention and sod off."
"I'll show you, Lily. I'll show you that love is real and that I really love you." He seemed so sincere that it sent shivers down my spine. I dismissed his promise though, blaming it on the over-zealous hormones of most fifth year males.
For the rest of the year he would smile at me knowingly whenever he saw me in the corridor. He would tell me he still loved me each time we were alone. Though, I never believed him.
I thought I would get a reprieve for his tenacious attempts during the summer, but every so often I would get a letter from James, asking about my summer, telling me of his. Each letter was signed with a flourish of "Love Always, James".
Sixth year followed somewhat similar to fifth. We were both made prefects and in most of the same classes together. James still gave me secret looks and whispered declarations of "I love you". Girls lined up, asking him to be their escort to Hogsmead. Each time James declined, always with a stolen glance in my direction. Each time I blushed, knowing full and well that I was the cause of his refusals. Boys lined up, asking me to accompany them to Hogsmead. Each time James jaw clenched, anticipating my daunting answer. Each time I declined and blushed at the obvious relief on James' face.
"So, Lily. William Knowles, eh?" James smirked slightly, directing us down another corridor. He hid it well, but I could see the masked jealously behind the simpering smile.
It was our night to patrol and I had become used to the light conversations that James and I shared. One could even go so far as to say that we had become friends.
"What of him?" I asked, looking about for any mischievous rule breakers, seeing none, I turned back towards him.
"He asked you to Hogsmead today." I saw him glance at me from the corner of his eye.
"He did, didn't he?" I chuckled at his not-so-subtle attempt at incorporating my suitors into the conversation.
"And you said no." He replied, unfazed. He smiled a bit and I couldn't say that it did not look good on him.
"I suppose I did." I sighed gustily; I could see where this conversation was going.
"You still don't believe in love." It wasn't a question.
"No. I don't." I responded with complete honesty.
"That's a shame." He ran a hand through his unruly onyx hair and I sighed again.
"Really? And why is that?" I blinked up at his six foot two figure. In the past year, it seemed as though he a grown a foot and he probably had.
"Because I still love you." He ducked his head closer to mine and smiled.
I raised one eyebrow questionably and smirked. "Oh, come off it, James." Ambling on, I turned to him. "We both know it's not real."
"Speak for yourself, Lily." He grinned and bent down once again, whispering in my ear. "Though we both know that you believe me."
He continued to tell me he loved me for the remainder of the year. He winked at me when he saw me in the corridors. He smiled at me when he passed me the honey at breakfast. He talked with me on our weekly patrols. He broke the rules with me every Thursday night when we would sneak away to the kitchens for a midnight treat. We both refused each proposal that was offered to us. We became quite close friends, though the atmosphere became slightly awkward each time he professed his 'love'.
We wrote letters back and forth all summer. He kept on trying to make me believe that I loved him and telling me of every aspect of his summer. He invited me to visit, but as Sirius was staying at James' manor, I declined, believing that both of them would be a bit too much to handle on my own. When our Hogwarts letters came, I rushed up to my room to send a letter with Arabella, my owl, of the news of my making Head Girl to James. Just as soon as she was sent off, James' owl flew into my window. James spoke of how he had made Head Boy and I smiled, knowing of how much time we would be able to spend with each other.
When I glided through the barrier to get onto Platform 9¾, James rushed up to me, gathering me into a bone-crushing embrace before I had even moved away from the familiar brick wall.
"James!" I squealed. "Hello to you too." I beamed up at him when he released me, my eyes showcasing my joy of seeing him once again.
He grinned cheekily at me. "What have you been up to, since the last time we spoke?"
"Oh, you mean since yesterday?" I joked as the whistle signaling that it would be only a mere five minutes before the train departed sounded. I beckoned him with a simple wave of my hand. "Come on. We have a prefects meeting to conduct."
"Whatever you say, my love." He answered, smiling serenely at me. I just rolled my eyes.
The meeting ran quite smoothly and I sat next to James during the feast. I chatted with the Marauders as my friends flirted shamelessly with Sirius. The Heads dormitory, where James and I would spend our last year at Hogwarts, was brilliant. It was done up in the Gryffindor colors of crimson and gold and complete with two bed chambers, a pair of bathrooms and a common room.
"Home sweet home." James murmured as we entered, though through his sarcastic demeanor I could see that he was truly please at our improved living conditions.
"It's lovely." I sighed. "It's a terrific reward for all our hard work. Well, for the hard work some of us put in." I noticed an ornate mahogany door on the left side of the room and pointed to it. It had 'JAMES POTTER' engraved in a sparkling gold on it. "Just taking a shot in the dark here, but I think that room is yours."
"Oh, damn. I thought we'd be sharing a room." He shot back, smirking.
"Oh, ha ha." I said dryly, rolling my eyes yet again.
We settled into out luxurious room separately, taking the time to unpack out belongings and fold them into the gilded armoires we were given. Once we had taken an albeit short, tour, we curled up, wrapped in the softest cashmere blankets, in front of the roaring fire, its' warming flames licking at the charred firewood. As entrancing as it was, James still managed to find something to talk about.
"So, Lily." James began, staring into the fire for a moment.
"So, James." I said, smiling at him.
"I've missed you." He said, all traces of humor abandoning his voice.
"I've missed you too." I replied, feigning confusion. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew what and how he had been implying.
"Have you really?" His face displayed his eagerness for the truth thoroughly. It hurt my heart.
I thought about it for a moment, wanting to give him the honesty that he so obviously desired. "Yes." I said simply and it was true. I had missed our long conversations and our late night adventures. I had missed those secret looks and charming smiles, though I knew the feelings behind them were not actually genuine.
He smiled. "Good." He got up then and bent down, leaving a gossamer kiss on my forehead. "I love you, you know."
"So you've said." I murmured.
He sighed. "Goodnight, Lily."
"Goodnight, James." With that, he strode into in chamber, his graceful gait carrying him with ease. I was left to contemplate the odd feeling that had my stomach in clenching knots all alone.
The months passed by relatively slowly. Our final year at Hogwarts going by at a pace that was as slow as molasses and faster than a Muggle plane all at the same time. Before I knew it, the winter holidays had arrived and I had decided to stay at the castle. There was no way I was going to travel back home just to watch my horse-faced sister fawn over her whale of a fiancé. Personally, I was set, but my parents just adored how infatuated Vernon was with Petunia. It made me sick, though I wasn't sure if it was the idea of love or the utter repulsive appearance and personality of my sisters' lover.
James was staying at the castle for Christmas as well. He mentioned something about his family going to visit his great aunt Timandra in the South of France. However much he enjoyed France, he, like me, decided it would be more beneficial to his mental health if he skipped out on that one family reunion.
On Christmas morning I stumbled out of my chamber bleary eyed and still half-asleep only to be woken to a great fright moments later.
"Happy Christmas, Lily." I almost jumped a mile. I hadn't seen him sitting on the sofa staring into the endless flames of the fire.
"Happy Christmas, James." I replied, now fully awake and trying to catch my breath. "You gave me a damn right scare there. Did you sleep well?"
"Not really." He was still staring into the fire, a look of untold sadness etched into his features.
"Why not?" I asked, truly concerned. He did not look all right at all.
"I couldn't stop thinking." Though he looked a bit like he was still thinking. I wanted to do something, anything, to get him out of this robotic stupor.
"About what?" I gave him a politely questioning look, though my concern for him distorted it a bit.
"You know, I started to fancy you in third year. You performed some silly hex to keep me from pulling some stupid prank. Your eyes held this flaming little spark. It sucked me in." He closed his eyes as if reliving the memory. "At the start of fourth year I began asking you to Hogsmeade, but you always said no. By the end of first term, I realised that I was in love with you. The color of your hair shining in the sun and the way you just knew the answer to everything, whether it be a hurt first year or the answer to number twenty-seven on Professor Binns final exam, captivated me. I worked up the courage to tell you in fifth year. But you just laughed and told me love wasn't real. It wasn't exactly the welcoming snog I had been expecting. I swore to you that I would prove you wrong. I swore that you would see that my feelings were as real as this very world.
Ever since then I've been trying to prove it to you, worming my way into your life, trying to get as close to you as possible. But you never believe me. Each time I tell you, you never believe me. I have been going over it again and again in my mind, but I can't figure it out. It just doesn't make sense. I do not understand how one person can be so shut out to love.
It isn't just with me, either. I suppose I would be able to see if you just weren't interested in me, but you're not interested in anyone, whether it be male or female. So, why? Tell me why you won't believe in love." He turned to look at me; his eyes burned with such vehemence and overall passion that it left me speechless.
"I…I don't know what to say, James. I've seen 'love' fail so many times. It's impossible to see the existence in something that has never truly been there."
"Lily, for the love of Merlin. Love is real! Love is right here. It has been waiting for you for three years." He grasped my face between his large callused hands. "Tell me love isn't real when my feelings for you have been just as potent as that first day I realised I loved you. Tell me love isn't real when my feelings for you have never so much as wavered, regardless of the lack of reciprocation. Tell me that and I'll leave you alone."
"I can't." I whispered, my emerald eyes wide with heavy emotion.
"What?" He asked, obviously surprised at my reply.
"I can't tell you that love isn't real. Not anymore." I thought for a moment. Closing my eyes, I let a deep flush colour my face as I admitted rather quietly, "I can't tell you that when I've been denying it all along."
His gaze softened and he released my face as all the pent up emotion left his in a rush. "I love you, Lily." Despite it being some version of a test, I could see the true meaning behind the proclamation.
And for the first time in my life I said, "I love you too."
Taking that as the only invitation he needed, he pressed his lips against mine. Sighing, I returned the kiss with a greater fervor, twisting my hands into his unkempt hair, making up for as much of the lost time I could.
I'm pretty sure you know what happened after that. After all, we became a legend.