Tightrope
James asks a tough question, and Lily needs to figure out just what she is feeling. Oneshot.
The thoughts in my head chased each other around like a dog chases its own tail. Unsure of what to do, or say, or even think, I simply sat still, gazing at the fire flickering in the grate.
How was I supposed to answer his question? What was I supposed to say? I knew he was different, anyone could see that. My first impulse was to fight it, to accuse him of play acting. My second, more intelligent, impulse was to accept it and go with it.
I didn't want to push him away; that was never my intention. I just wanted to be sure. I needed to do it to protect myself, to protect my heart.
It wasn't always like this. I didn't always sit staring into the fire contemplating my next move as though my life was a giant game of chess. I used to give in to my first impulse and yell and scream and throw things. I like to think that as much as James Potter has changed and grown, I have too.
We aren't the same people we were then. And we aren't the same people we will be tomorrow. Whatever I said would determine who we both would be when we woke up the next morning.
I learned an important lesson in my fifth year at Hogwarts, and they didn't teach it in the classroom. I learned that life was always messy and never black and white. You could not categorize people based on what they did yesterday because you don't know what they'll do tomorrow. I can thank Severus Snape for that life lesson.
I learned from the experience, though. I learned that the closer you hold a person to your heart, the deeper they can cut into it.
Would he cut me, though? Would he ever turn his back on me the way that Severus had in the past? I doubted it.
He was loyal, and kind, and gentle.
But so was Severus.
They aren't the same, I reminded myself. And James…James wasn't even the same as James of years past.
My eyes began burning from staring, unblinking, into the fire. I wanted to shut them and sleep and dream the answer. I knew it wouldn't happen, though. I could feel his eyes watching me as I watched the fire.
Faster and faster the thoughts swirled in my head, making it impossible to grasp onto any one of them. I was disoriented, certainly, but also somehow grounded by the simple knowledge that I had to answer his pleading question.
I had been distant, but not cold, for days before he asked the question. I didn't go out of my way to find him at meal times, or in the common room. I knew he would be there waiting for me, wondering where I was. I also knew that he would never ask me why I didn't show.
He gave me the space I wanted, and when I wanted to be close, sitting on the couch watching the fire burn low and talking about silly things into the morning hours, he was there. He was considerate of my feelings, definitely, but was it all an act?
Surely, he couldn't keep acting this long. Surely the look in his eyes couldn't be faked.
I had an image in my head of me walking a tightrope that was strung between two turrets of the castle. Looking down, I could see people waving to me, giving me direction, but they were just far enough away that what they were saying wasn't making any sense. Ahead of me was James Potter and behind me was nothing.
I wasn't pushing him away on purpose. I had to assure myself that I would be ok. I had to be sure that I would make it across that tight rope in one piece, if, that is, I walked it at all.
I stood in the middle of the two turrets, teetering on the edge of commitment, unsure of what my next move should be. Should I go forward? Should I risk falling and hurting myself going forward? It was a long way from where I stood to the castle turret, but I wouldn't be alone. Should I go backward? Should I turn my back on him and run the other way?
I had to make a choice. His eyes were burning into my conscious. I knew he was waiting, and I knew that the wait was excruciating. I had to get my head on straight. How do you walk a tightrope when everything around you is blurry and confused?
An answer popped into my head, then. With help.
The people below were too far away to help me, but when I looked forward again on the tightrope in my mind, I saw him smile. And I knew.
Peeling my eyes away from the fire, I ignored the blurred edges of the room. I ignored the faint echoes of past hurts in my heart.
I focused on his face, and in my mind, I took that first, wobbly step on the tightrope.
Life might not be black and white, and it might be messy and uncontrollable, but it was much more bearable when you walked with someone you love.
"Yes," I said, smiling faintly. "Yes, James. I do love you."
A/N: I know it's short, and a little bit vague, but I had this image in my head of the moment when James finally confronts Lily, after they have been dating for a while, asking her if she loves him. At first I had a tunnel, but I changed it to the tight rope because the sense of danger is much more acute. You can close your eyes and run through a tunnel, but you have to keep your eyes open to walk a tight rope.
I think I wrote this about two and a half years ago because I found it in a folder full of stuff from the first half of my first senior year in college. Weird.