Disclaimer: These characters belong to J. K. Rowling.
It had been a year and a half since James first started getting the sense that he should develop some self-control—since he first started taking seriously the idea that Evans might really hate him, permanently. It was just so bloody hard. Whenever he saw her, he felt his eyes turn into little hearts and his brain turn to mush, and whatever happened next—fighting, attempted flirting, hexing Slytherins—felt like it happened in a daze.
At least, that's how it had gone until this year. And now suddenly it felt like he could think around her. Which was bloody useful, since they were co-Heads. They had actually managed civility since the second week, after Evans had yelled herself hoarse and apparently decided that would suffice when it came to fulfilling her "insulting Potter" quota for the foreseeable future.
Still, civility was one thing and friendly conversation was quite another. So James was startled nearly out of his robes during rounds one night when Evans said, "Remember that one time you did that heart thing with your hands? When I said that you and Black were bloody children for sneaking out just to buy candy?"
"Are you talking to me?" It seemed at once like the only logical option and like the most illogical thing in the world.
"Of course I'm talking to you. There's no one else around, and you're the only logical recipient of that question."
"There is no logical recipient of that question, because the question's existence is itself illogical," James replied, bursting with pride at his ability to use multisyllabic words correctly in a coherent sentence directed at Evans. If only his desperate, hormonal 14-year-old self could see him now. "You're engaging in nonessential communication, with me, in a non-confrontational tone. It defies all logic."
Evans sighed heavily. "Oh, come on, Potter. We have to work together for the rest of the year, and you seem significantly less horrible than you have in previous years, so I thought it might be nice for us to be friends. Or at least talk occasionally."
"And you think reminding me about something embarrassing I did two years ago is a good way to get that started?"
"'Embarrassing'?"
"Yes, Evans. That was a lapse. How often do you see teenage boys going around making their hands into hearts?"
"I thought it was kind of cute, actually," Evans admitted quietly.
"You what?"
"I mean, usually, when you tried to flirt with me, you put on this fake deep voice that I know wasn't yours, but that time—I don't know, it didn't feel like a show, I guess. It felt like honesty."
What the hell, what did he have to lose—"You know I'm honestly in love with you, right?"
"Oh." Evans's voice was even quieter now, and higher.
"'Oh'?"
"Just—it was so hard to tell whether I should believe you. You lie so much—I mean, it's obvious when you tell Professor McGonagall that you didn't do something and everyone knows you did, and I also know about the real reason Remus always leaves at the full moon and the reason you and Black and Pettigrew are always so tired when that happens. So I almost never know whether to trust you. And it seemed so plausible that you picked me just to bother Severus . . ."
"'To bother'—Evans, seriously?"
"Yes, seriously." For the first time that night, her voice took on its usual exasperated tone. "You took your worst enemy's favorite girl and performed this exaggeratedly masculine, like, mating dance whenever you came across her. It felt like just another prank, and I felt like a prop."
"Except when I made my hands into a heart?"
"A little bit less then. But basically always."
"Merlin, Evans, I'm . . . sorry."
"Are you really, Potter?"
"Yes. I never wanted to make you upset. It just took until this year to figure out how to think straight around you."
"Thank goodness for small miracles, I suppose."
"What? Not, 'I'm not interested in your excuses, Potter'?"
Evans sighed. "I'm the one proposing being friends. I've been thinking about it for a while and I know what it involves giving up."
"Never thought I'd see the day, Evans."
"Never thought I'd get an apology, either." She sighed again. "I'd convinced myself I didn't need one, but I can't deny that it was nice."
"Trust me, I know I've been a bit of an idiot where you're concerned. And if that hurt you, I should apologize."
"Thanks."
"Not to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth, but why now?" James asked.
"What?"
"Why do you want to be friends all of a sudden? If I've finally done something right, I'd like to know what."
"Well, you're less disruptive in class this year, and I haven't seen you hex as many people, and you're not showing off quite as much, and you've stopped asking me out, which is lovely, and you've actually held up your end of the bargain when it comes to Head duties."
"I'm . . . glad you've noticed."
It was quiet for a moment, and then Evans said, "Do you think this can work?"
"What?"
"Us. Being friends. If you're in love with me."
"I'll give it my best shot if you give it yours," James promised.
"Thanks," Evans whispered.
"Why are you thanking me?"
"Look, what I said about why I want to be friends—those are reasons not to be opposed to friendship, but they're not reasons to want to be friends, exactly, and they're not the whole truth." She took a deep breath and then said, "Do you want the whole truth?"
"Yes—if you're willing."
Evans took a deep breath, let it out, drew in another, and said, "So I love Mary and Alice to death and I always will, but I don't think Alice has thought about anything other than Frank in about eight months now, and Mary's pretty distracted with Edwin these days, which is fine, and they're adorable, but it's getting a bit lonely, and Remus is so focused on the NEWTs when he's not off marauding that we've barely talked this year either, and all of that is fine, and I should focus on the NEWTs too, but as long as you and I are going to be together all the time for rounds I thought it might be nice to get in a bit of human contact, you know?"
"Merlin, Evans, yeah. Are you sure everything's okay?"
Evans hesitated for a moment and then said, "Yeah. Everything's fine. Just—yeah. Fine." She paused and then said, "You can call my Lily, by the way."
"Really?"
"Yes . . . James."
His heart fluttered a bit at the sound of his name in her voice, but all he said was, "So you're serious about this whole 'friends' thing."
"Yes."
"Thank you . . . Lily."
"Thank you, James."
It was quiet for over a minute, and then James said, "So."
"So," Lily replied.
"If we're trying to turn this into human contact, rather than just doing rounds side-by-side like we always have, we need something to talk about."
Lily sighed. "I know. I'm just too tired to think of anything. And it feels a bit awkward, trying to force conversation, and I've already bungled things . . ."
James chuckled. "It's fine, Lily. So. It's funny how we've been in the same house for over six years now and we still don't really know each other very well. Let's start at the beginning. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?"
"Honestly?" said Lily. "When I was really little? A gymnast. I could always get extra bounce with round-offs and handsprings, which turned out to just be my magic but which looked like talent for a while there. And then when I was a little older I wanted to be a doctor. You know, to help people."
"Wow. I can see you as either of those things, actually."
Lily giggled. "Seriously?" Before James could respond to that, she asked, "What did you want to be?"
"An Auror. Always. Well, as soon as I found out that 'broomstick' wasn't a profession."
"You didn't go through a professional Quidditch player phase?"
"Nah. I admire my dad too much for that, honestly."
"Hmm. Not quite what I would have expected of you," said Lily.
"I'm full of surprises," James asserted. "So. Next question. Do you have any siblings?"
Lily groaned. "Yes. A sister. Unfortunately."
"Why 'unfortunately'?" James asked.
"Well, she hates me," Lily said frankly. "She has ever since Dumbledore didn't let her into Hogwarts. I mean, part of the reason is that Severus and I went through her mail—"
"'Severus'? You mean Snape? He knows your sister?"
"We were friends before Hogwarts," Lily said impatiently. "You know this. We wound up in your carriage on the train our first year."
"Oh Merlin, that's right, you did! I think I've blocked out that memory . . . and a lot of other memories involving Sni . . . Snape."
Lily exhaled sharply. "Well. Anyway. Severus persuaded me it would be a good idea to go snooping in Petunia's room, and we found a letter that Dumbledore had sent through the Muggle post very kindly explaining to her why she couldn't come to Hogwarts. And she'd already started hating me before she found out I went through her letters, but that sealed it. So basically she's hated me ever since I was accepted into Hogwarts, and that was, you know, over six years ago now. And now she's got this insufferable boyfriend who I swear is part walrus and the two of them are utterly disgusting, but if you want the truth, James, I laugh at them just because I'm tired of it hurting, but it still does hurt. We were so close before, and we probably would have grown apart just with me being here, but it was this sudden rupture and it's never really healed."
"Merlin, Lily, I'm . . . sorry."
Lily let out a shaky breath. "It is what it is. Do you have siblings?"
"Nope. Unless you count Sirius. He lived with my family, you know, this summer."
"That sounds like a nightmare for your parents."
"Nah, they love him."
"Well, isn't that nice," Lily said acidly. She paused and then said, "Sorry. I just . . . wish I had a functional household."
"Makes sense."
"Sorry," Lily said again.
"It's fine. Believe me, I'm used to your temper."
"Ugh, I'm so sorry." She took a deep breath and then said, "I really can't imagine why you're in love with me. Given how horrible I've been to you."
For a few seconds, the two walked in silence, but then James stopped at a window. Thin moonlight fought its way through the thick windowpanes and illuminated little more than his outline as he turned toward Lily. Lily stopped, too, and turned toward him, out of the moonlight except for her feet. "Lily," James said. "I needed you to take me down a peg or four. I've recognized that for a long time. I didn't love being chewed out by you, in the moment, but I don't resent it now."
"Really?"
"Yes. And I don't want to take this too far in case it makes things awkward, but please know that there is an abundance of reasons for me to love you."
Lily let out a noise that sounded like a sob.
James took two steps toward her, each step taking more of him out of the moonlight, and he reached toward Lily and then remembered to ask: "Would you like a hug?"
Lily closed the gap between them and stepped into James's arms, clinging to him and sobbing into his chest. He thought about asking whether he did anything wrong, but he figured that she wouldn't be allowing him to comfort her if this whole thing was his fault, so he just rubbed her back and waited for her to stop crying, not sure what reassurance it would make sense to offer.
After a couple of minutes, Lily's sobs subsided into shuddering breaths, and she stepped back out of James's embrace and said, "Sorry."
"I'm not entirely clear on what just happened here, Lily, but I'm under the impression that you don't have anything to apologize for," James replied.
"I think I got snot on your robes," Lily said, her voice shaking.
"Eh, they'll wash. I play Quidditch, Lily. I'm used to my robes needing washing. The important question is, are you okay?"
"You don't need to worry about me." Lily started walking again, so James did too. They were on rounds, after all.
"That's not an answer," James replied.
"I just . . . you . . . look. This is the longest conversation I've had in literally weeks. Maybe since the train ride home last June, actually. And I've been horrible to you for years and somehow you don't hate me and you're willing to hold me when I cry and I don't have anyone left in my life and you—you're here. So thank you."
"You're welcome. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that." He ached to hold her, to brush her hair away from her face, to rub her back again. But he'd seen enough tonight to know that his pleasure was not of utmost importance. "Do you mind if I tell Remus you're lonely?"
"Am I that pathetic?"
"You just seem like you could use some more human contact."
Lily laughed shakily. "You could say that."
"And Remus has been one of your closest friends. And he's also one of my closest friends, so it wouldn't be weird for me to tell him something. But I won't if you don't want me to. I do intend to treat whatever you tell me on rounds as privileged information."
"Merlin. Thank you, James. And yes, I suppose you can tell Remus."
James bowed, because it seemed like the thing to do, and Lily giggled, just a bit. "Consider it done, Lily." Then, as they were passing another window, he checked his watch. "Rounds are just about over. We can head back to Gryffindor tower now, if you like."
"Sleep would be nice, yeah."
For the tiniest second, before James could stop his brain from going there, he envisioned himself sleeping with her—not that way, mind, just sharing a bed, just being allowed to hold her through the night. But then he shut down his fantasy and told himself that the most important thing, now, was to be the best friend he could be, because clearly that was what she needed.
Back at Gryffindor tower, James held out his hand to help Lily through the portrait hole, and Lily took it, to his great surprise, despite the fact that she was fully capable of clambering in and out without any help whatsoever. When he climbed in after her, she met his eyes in the light of the dying fire, her green looking just like his hazel in the dusty orange glow, and she said, "Thank you. Really."
James bowed again, unable to make up his mind about whether he was being ironic or not, and said, "You're welcome. Same time tomorrow night?"
She smiled at that. "Of course," she said, and then she crossed the common room and was up the girls' staircase before he could bid her a proper good night.
So this was love, up close. Not the heart-fluttering, stomach-dropping, dazed feeling he used to get just from seeing her, but the keeping her company and being her friend and not asking for more than she was ready to give.
James Potter was determined to love Lily Evans as well as he could, whatever that meant.
A/N: Reviews and favourites are lovely!