The first time he saw her, she was sitting outside a Muggle cafe in London. Her red hair had been pulled back away from her face as she sipped on her espresso over ice, her face was impassive as she sat alone. Her pale skin skin was dusted golden with a spattering of freckles, and her bright brown eyes twinkled like diamonds in the sunlight.
She looked just like her mother.
He stared at her for a long time, caught up in a wave of nostalgia, gazing on in fascination as she remained ignorant of his staring. It wouldn't hurt anything to look, he decided. Her mother had been his first girlfriend, his first love, and speaking to the young girl sitting before him was not something he had any intention of doing. This was just him reliving a happy moment. It was like looking at a memory without the Pensieve, going backwards without a Time-Turner.
It was completely innocent.
He came back the following day and, once again, she was there, at the same table, with another shot of espresso over ice. He continued to stare at her longingly. He had begun to wonder what she was like, if she was anything like her mother had been – passionate and fiery with her heart on her sleeve.
Despite his better judgment, he approached the girl's table.
"Is this seat taken?" he asked with his most charming smile.
The young girl smiled politely and shook her head. "Please," she said as she gestured for him to sit across from her. Her hand extended to shake his politely. "I'm Lily Potter."
"Dean Thomas."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Thomas."
And they sat and chatted about nothing for hours, Lily oblivious to the fact that the man across from her had not approached her by accident, while Dean felt a tug at his heartstrings.
She was beautiful, and she was just how he had remembered her.
A month went by before Dean saw her outside of their regular meeting place. He had boldly asked her to go on a date with him one afternoon, and she had politely declined because of their age difference, but eventually she conceded. He had told her to dress casually, but hadn't given any indication as to where he was taking her – just that she'd love it.
He uncovered her eyes after he leading her to the base of a small hill. The grassy knoll climbed upwards to a wide open space – a green field littered with violets that sat beside the clearest, bluest stream she had ever laid eyes on. Without thinking, she let out a squeal and wrapped her arms around her neck. She had told him before how much she loved nature.
So they climbed to the top, and Lily wasted no time before stripping off her clothes and diving into the water, completely naked.
"So refreshing!" she proclaimed as her companion seated himself at the edge of the water, eyeing her in amusement. "Why don't you join me?" she asked with a cheeky grin.
"Forget about it," Dean said, laughter in his voice.
"Suit yourself!" Lily said before submerging herself below the surface of the water.
Dean watched her, realizing more and more that the apple really hadn't fallen too far from the tree.
It was nearly midnight when Dean had finally gotten Lily to return safely to her flat. She had been swimming for hours and her skin had pruned by the time she had finally decided she had had enough swimming and had gotten out to dry off. He had held out his jacket as a shield to protect her modesty, and then he had draped it around her shoulders once she was dressed to keep her warm.
They stood at her doorstep. She was still smiling as she continued to shiver, and she couldn't keep her eyes off him. "This was the most fun I've had for as long as I can remember," she said as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.
He accepted the kiss with a smile, but he immediately felt guilty. The air of familiarity that he felt with her had been overwhelming until that moment. It was her kiss that made her different from Ginny.
The way that she looked at him then with sparkling eyes was startling. It was glaringly obvious that she had feelings for him, but he knew things could never work out between them. Not when he had introduced himself on false pretenses, not after having pretended to himself that it was really her mother that he had been spending all his time with.
But her kiss had revealed his own lie.
She was straddling his lap as they sat on her sofa. His hands were tangled in her hair, her hands caressing his face as they kissed with a tenderness that he now found sickening.
He still thought she was beautiful – how could he not? She was everything he had wanted in terms of appearance, everything he could have hoped for in terms of personality. She was Ginny Weasley's daughter, and it showed in everything she did and everything she said.
But the painful realization that she was not her mother was something Dean could not overlook.
He wasn't sure if he could do this anymore. He didn't know if he could go on pretending that she was perfect for him when she wasn't, even though he was well aware that she should have been his dream come true.
The fact was that Dean Thomas was in love with Ginny Weasley – not Lily Potter – and no amount of affection from her could change that.
He lay beside her in her bed. She was scantily clad in her thin cotton t-shirt and knickers, her red hair pulled back so that he could see her freckle-dusted face.
The apple had not fallen far from the tree, but that didn't mean he was looking a memory without a Pensive, going backwards without a Time-Turner.
She had fallen asleep, looking so peaceful as her head rested beside his on the pillow.
He pointed the wand to her temple.
"Obliviate," he said, his voice catching in his throat.
For Lily may have loved him, but he could no longer sleep with his past.