Into the Twilight We Go
by: Moonlily
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and settings owned by the wonderfully talented J. K. Rowling.
Summary: Lily searches for answers surrounding the origin of a mysterious letter and bizarre dreams that all revolve around a boy she has never met. Are these the remnants of a forgotten past or forecasts of an uncertain future? What does it mean that her worst enemy is sharing the same dreams?
A/N: This is a companion piece/sequel to Changing the Hands of Time. I will be writing both stories concurrently.
I'm looking for a beta for this story, any kind souls out there willing to give me a hand?
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Chapter One
Lily did not recognize the scrawling handwriting on the crumpled piece of parchment she had found stuffed in one of pockets of her robes. The handwriting was uneven and the ink smudged in places, as if the writer had been in a great hurry.
Dear Lily,
This is the most difficult letter I have ever had to write. You do not yet know m –
"Love letter from a secret admirer, Evans?"
The unwelcome interruption startled Lily into almost dropping the letter. She hastily refolded it, tucking it safely into her robes, before swiveling her head to glare at the intruder. James Potter – fondly known to his best friends as Prongs for reasons unknown to Lily – regarded her with an amused yet somewhat bored expression, elbows casually resting on the back of her chair, head cradled in his hands.
He had a peculiar penchant for popping up at the most inconvenient of times, this most recent appearance being no exception.
"None of your business," Lily snapped. Of course, she didn't yet know the answer herself, seeing as how her reading time had been so rudely cut short. That very fact caused her to be more annoyed at James than usual.
"Sure it is." James punctuated his reply with a grin that was infuriatingly charming. He purposefully scooted closer, his mouth barely brushing against her ear. "I have a right to know if someone's trying to move in on my girl."
A shiver of excitement coursed unbidden through her body. Lily leapt up from the chair, eager to distance herself from James. Tilting her head up in an act of defiance, she retorted, "Awfully presumptuous of you, calling me that." The statement didn't contain quite as much venom as Lily would have liked.
"At least tell me the name of the bloke," he said, rather disappointed by the loss of closeness, "so I can put him out of his misery." He winked at her flirtatiously, tossing in a cheeky grin for extra effect.
To most people, Lily's arched eyebrow and pursed lips would have been unmistakable signals to back off. James, however, was clearly not most people. Not only did her facial expression not discourage him, he actually found it quite endearing and told her as much.
Lily huffed indignantly. She had neither the time nor patience for Potter's antics. She shifted positions in preparation to sweep past him, the parchment making a quiet rustling sound in her robes, as if beckoning impatiently to its intended reader.
"Oh, go smother some other girl with your compliments. Surely you can find someone more appreciative." She brushed past James, lightly grazing his arm in the process, and mounted the stairs to her dormitory.
James' eyes twinkled mischievously, as if they held a secret that Lily had yet to discover. "I pride myself on only dishing out sincere compliments," he called out to her retreating back.
She pretended not to hear.
Damn that Potter! Always toying with her like a five-year-old would with his newest Christmas present, bound to discard her once she became too predictable. At least he didn't ask her out this time, she was running out of fresh, clever insults to throw back at him.
But dealing with one bloody git would have to wait. She currently had more important matters to attend to.
Only in the privacy of her own room, with the bed hangings drawn tightly closed, did Lily dare to retrieve the letter and finish perusing its contents. The words were difficult to decipher in some spots, but the underlying message was not lost. Reading the letter in its entirety, however, only served to bring more questions than answers. What did the writer mean, he had been thinking of her for his entire life?
A multitude of questions invaded Lily's mind as she fell into an uneasy sleep.
The boy hovered high above the ground on his broomstick as the cool, crisp air playfully whipped his patch of messy hair this way and that. His sharp, keen eyes searched in pursuit of their target. A flash of gold on feathery wings sent him into a triumphant nosedive, hands outstretched for the capture. He held up the prize, signifying another winning game for Gryffindor. So focused was he on the jubilant shouts of his teammates and on their splendid victory that he failed to see the danger—an indication that all on the field did not share in their joy.
Lily could not shake her sense of foreboding as she watched him from her place in the Quidditch stands. Her fears were justified as the boy plummeted to the ground, the unfortunate recipient of a well-aimed bludger sent in contempt. She could do nothing but scream his name.
She awoke with a start, the name still ringing in her ears. So her dreams had put a face to the mysterious letter writer, but the burning question remained.
Who was Harry?
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Thanks for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated!