That Smile
You see your life as two, distinct eras. The first you have fondly named The Lost Years. The second, though you would never say it aloud, has a completely different sort of name. You call them The Potter Years. The James Years would be too personal, and even to this day, you are all about impersonal.
Those Lost Years didn't seem so bad, at the time. Your family still approved of you back then, and your little brother looked up to you. Narcissa was your best friend, and you were proud to be a Black. Thinking back now, you get lost in your memories. You remember listening through keyholes to discussions the adults would have, feeling so dangerous because you knew you were breaking a handful of family rules that could have your back stinging for a week with the marks of a belt.
But then again, wasn't it those same discussions that ultimately changed your life forever? Even at that young age, you were different from what you were supposed to be. There was a mold each family member fit, and no matter how hard you parents tried, they just couldn't get you to conform. You were rebellious, you were cheeky, and you were impossible. You figured what your aunts and uncles, what your parents were saying, couldn't be the truth. You couldn't understand how someone could be inferior just because of their parentage, but you didn't dare breathe a word of your thoughts. You were still your parent's Golden Child, and you weren't quite ready to give that up.
You went to school that year, and that's when everything changed. You still can't put an exact date to when the Lost Years become the Potter Years—it was a slow transition, as one set of beliefs faded and transformed into another. But you do know that by Christmas of that year, you were already gone, and everyone knew it.
In so many ways, James saved your life. You don't know how, really, but one memory always seems to come to mind when you think of it. It was Second Year, and you'd just got a raging Howler from your mother, demanding you stop associating with the likes of a werewolf, and That Potter Boy. You were furiously blinking back a stinging in your eyes that couldn't possibly have been tears, and you refused to make eye contact with anything other than your red duvet. But then James said your name, so quietly, and you just had to look up to face him; you couldn't help it. And he was just smiling at you, with a smile that made you positive that no matter what, everything would be okay.
That smile of his got you through the next three years of your life, until you woke up one morning and discovered you didn't give a damn about those Blacks anymore; you were 100 percent Potter.
It scares you, but a part of you can see yourself living a different life; one of darkness and horror that you wish you could block from your mind. It also gives you a morbid satisfaction, to know you beat your own destiny. It wouldn't have happened without James, and you're both aware of that; it's never needed to be said.
He came over to your place the other day, asking for a favor. When he first started, you figured it would be something simple—borrowing your bike for the afternoon, babysitting little Harry. You were absolutely floored when you found out the truth—his family needed protection, and you were the only one they believed they could trust.
You're sitting in the chair by the fire now, trying to decide what course of action next to take. You know you'd never willingly betray James, you'd rather die than let any harm come to him. But what if you couldn't help it? You are the obvious choice as Secret Keeper; one would have to have been living under a rock for the past decade not to know of your strong friendship with James. So, naturally, the Death Eaters would come after you first.
You would hate yourself for the rest of the life if you were betray James, and you know you couldn't live with that. But what to do? And then it comes to you—Peter. It's a gloriously simple plan that would be so unexpected it's perfect. You know Peter will agree right away, so it's just James you'll have to convince. He'd rather have you and you both know it, but you just don't see how that could work. You'd hate yourself if James was hurt because of you, and you just can't trust yourself to not let that happen.
James is coming over in five minutes, and you're going to present your plan to him then. Peter's scheduled to come over half an hour later, to give James time to adjust. You'd invite Remus, but he's been so…distant lately. You've heard there's a mole in the Order; there's a stinging in your chest as the idea flashes through your mind that Remus is the traitor.
There's a crash in the kitchen, and James is early. It's a first, but then again, there's a first for everything. You brace yourself as you stand up out of the chair, and walk the ten steps separating you from your best friend.
You don't know it, but this is the last time you'll ever see him outside of his house, alive.
You don't know it, but your perfect plan will lead to his death.
You don't know it, but you're about to make the one mistake you will never forgive yourself for.
And there was that smile.
A/N: This is reposted, so if you recognize it, that's why.
Anyway. You've taken the time to read this, I would greatly appreciate it if you would leave a review letting me know your thoughts/reactions. Gracias!