Disclaimer: Not mine. At all.
AN: This is the rewrite to "Always", vastly improved and altered significantly. There are probably tons of typos, but my e-mail isn't working right, so I'll post a beta'd version up later. Dedicated to Sarah, for having an abnormal amount of patience with me. Anyway, please review. It means a lot.

Always

There he is. Leaning over, his dark hair falling into lust-darkened eyes, he places a small kiss on her nose. She laughs, her rosy lips parting to display perfect teeth, and kisses him straight on the lips. I'm not sure why but all I can think about is how much I hate this. Anger boils over and fills my veins, threatening to invade my common sense. But I do know I hate her. I hate the glossy dark hair that always falls straight and the bright blue eyes that never have bags underneath them.

The weird thing is that she's my best friend. Even after the long, tedious friendship we've shared for several years I cannot say truthfully that I love her. Rebecca has been there: she's listened to my every rant and wiped away every single tear, but I don't love her. I think it might be his fault. The fact that he's the most beautiful man I've ever known and the knowledge that he's hers. So, in a way, I only hate her because she owns the thing I desire.

The room is packed. It's October and it's raining like always. I've always loved the rain and the pretty patterns it made on the windowpanes. I've loved the way the sky clouds up and the sound raindrops make as they splatter against the roof. Today, however, I don't think I've hated the weather more. It took a lot of biting and scratching to get this armchair and I can't believe that practically the entire Gryffindor Tower is congregated in the Common Room. The air is thick from all the hormones that are running rampant.

If today was an idealistic day, I would've taken a stroll around the lake with some distant acquaintance and talked about classes and favourite colours and other silly, humdrum topics. Yet it didn't work out that way, did it? Instead, I'm stuck watching Rebecca snog the prettiest boy I've ever known. Who, I might add, was formerly my "worst enemy" until recently. It's almost as if I were living a soap opera. And I really want out.

You know, if someone had told me this earlier, I would've rejected my Hogwarts letter and gone to Eaton. If I had gone to Eaton, though it would've been horrendously dull and tedious, it would have allowed me to get normal crushes on pale English boys and young male teachers. Consequently, I wouldn't fall for tall, tanned James Potter who is dating my best friend.

Life sucks.

Returning to my nineteenth read of 'To Kill a Mocking Bird', I silently sneak looks at Rebecca and James Potter, who are currently eating each other's faces off. Romantically, though. He looks gorgeous in this shadowy, firelight radiance. Firelight illuminates the high cheekbones and aristocratic nose that got him on 'Teen Witch', dancing along the strong chin and lustrous hair. His spidery, long lashes that would get any woman jealous cast shadows on his skin. Damn it: he never looks bad, does he? Rebecca, who matches him in drop-dead gorgeous looks, laughs as he whispers something in her ear and hides their faces behind a curtain of hair.

Staring sullenly at the dog-eared pages of my paperback, I try to sooth my head. It hurts like hell, even though I got an aspirin less than ten minutes ago. Hiding my face in the palms of my hands, I realize that my face is wet and my palms are moist with sweat. This is impossible. Rubbing at my eyes with my fingers only succeeds with spreading mascara and black kohl all over my cheeks. I knew I should've bought waterproof.

Then it hits me. I'm fucking crying. I look and feel like a mess and all I can do is stare, stare, stare at Rebecca and James. My hair -- which always seems to look like a gigantic poof at the back of my head-- unravels from its plait and covers my face with frizzy red curls. My hands seem distanced from my mind as they grab at hair and pull it back painfully. And I all I can see is them.

No-one notices the hysterical fit that I'm pitching on the armchair, gasping and choking on tears and moans. I don't think I've ever felt so worthless and disgusting. The backing of the stupid chair is digging into the small of my back and my shoulders are tensed and I feel so gross.

Then he's looking at me and everything seems wrong. He looks confused and kind-of alarmed and there's something there, inside his eyes, that make me want to scream. His eyes looks so big and glittery -- which makes it sound girly but it isn't, not really -- and they make me dizzy with all the shades of brown and gold that are there. I think I'm in love and it honestly scares the shit out of me.

He stares and stares and stares before pushing Rebecca off him and stumbling to a stand. Rebecca, who loves attention that is centered around her, pouts in an annoying way -- because it looks very sexy on her -- and stares at her feet. He manages to stand and his tall, gangly frame draws attention from every female in the room and some males. Even though -- I hope -- he is panicking internally; his slouched, casual walk seems calm and steady.

Remus Lupin, meanwhile, is trying to make Rebecca laugh with one of his funny stories. Remus always tells funny stories. I used to be under the impression that he fancied Rebecca, but after a bit of time passed, I realized he just was fond of her. Remus' girlfriend -- a sweet but absent-minded girl in Sixth year -- is curled up next to him, running slim fingers through her blonde hair.

And then there's him. He's always there, present in the forefront of my mind. Dark locks of hair fall into his eyes and all I can see and breathe and need is him. The longer I stare into his eyes the dizzier I become... Suddenly I can't see straight and I feel as if I am about to faint... Am I asleep? Do I want to wake?

His large hand engulfs mine, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps freckling my arms. He says something soft and assuring, but my mind is abuzz and all I can do is stare, stare, stare at him. My head feels light and unsubstantial as the smell of his shampoo and cologne (cinnamon and cloves and ginger) winds itself around my senses. He's looking into my eyes and he looks so, so worried... Don't worry, James, I'll be all right. But the world's spinning and I'm drowning in the colour of his eyes and there's nothing to hold onto...

Help me, James. I'm dying.

Am I falling? Do I want to be caught? My world has been knocked off its axis and everything's swirling and changing…I think I'm losing my mind. Everything's become dizzy and blurred and it's so fucking beautiful... Warm…he is so warm, radiating his golden aura that is so alike to his golden eyes… My world is spinning and now it's crumbling and I'm so warm, I'm burning…

Help me, James. I'm on fire.

I can't breathe and I'm going to suffocate on my last breath... will he ever kiss me? I just want to die, I think. I sound like some overemotional sod that can't stop flailing around, even when they're about to fade away... Have I finally lost my edge? Have I fallen so far that there's no-one left to care?

Help me, James. I'm falling.

Then the darkness comes. The blessed and cold darkness has finally won.

Did you know it's all for you, James?

x

Hello, world.

"--She's running a high fever and it appears that she'll need to stay in bed for at least a week."

I wonder who they're talking about.

"Have you found out why she collapsed like that?"

"Stress, Mr. Potter. She collapsed because of the excessive amount of stress she's under." A haughty sniff. "I didn't doubt it would happen to her, you know."

My head fucking hurts.

And why is it so dark? Shit. Opening your eyes really, really hurts. The world is very bright and white. Apparently, I'm in some narrow cot surrounded by blue-green curtains. At least I can identify colours. I can't be that sick if I can tell the difference between blue and blue-green. Damn it, my whole body hurts. Out of pure instinct, I ignore the throbs and aches that are coming from various points in my body and try to listen to the conversation going on outside my sectioned-off area.

"Stress?" The voice is thick with sleep and very masculine. "What'd you mean by that?"

"Mr. Potter, I must ask you to calm yourself." The woman's voice is soft and slightly nervous. "If it weren't for the Headmaster's insistence, I would've thrown you out long ago. You know the rules; you've been in here with injuries more than most students."

The voices stop speaking, and then there's nothing more save for light breathing and the sound of footsteps.

Wait, what'd happen? All I remember is James' warm hands and his stunning eyes and…oh. Did I faint on him? What will he think? I have to tell him I'm sorry, and that I… How can you apologize to someone for fainting on them? I wonder if they have cards for those kinds of occasions. I can't really remember anything…

What time is it?
What day is it?

It's gone from black to white. Is there anything to help indicate the time in here? The date would be lovely, as well. I miss him. I do know that. I miss his eyes and his smile and his stupid, stupid jokes. I wonder if he misses me. God, my head hurts. Then ... then there's the rustling of the curtain as one familiar eye peers in.

Hello, James. Did you miss me?

"Lily, you're awake."

No shit. How long did it take you to figure that one out?

"How do you feel? Are you OK?" He looks nervous as he gazes down at me. "Would you want Rebecca to come down? She's eating, but I can fetch her if you like."

I can't help but stare at him. He might be frightfully good-looking, but damn, when he opens his mouth it all seems to go downhill. "Shut up, Potter."

He manages a smile, coming over and sitting next to me. His big, big hazel eyes are bright behind his dorky glasses and I want so desperately to smile with him. I can't really move though, because the thin sheets are heavy and my eyes are half-blinded in the obnoxious sunlight.

"Lily, are you sure that you'll be fine?"

Is he really thinking about me? Or is his mind on something else, something prettier and wittier and much more destined for greatness? I want to love him so much that it really, honestly hurts. I've known him for so long, and if he never wanted to know me... I'd be broken.

Hello, James. Are you really all that sincere?

"Yeah, I'll be fine." I whisper, trying to manage a smile. "James?"

Everything I ever wanted is weighted on the words that'll come next. I wonder if I could tell him how I feel, for just a brief moment in time to freeze and let him see. I mean: I've wished for world peace and all that stuff, but I want something for myself. I want something that could be exclusively mine.

Hello, James. Would you give up the world for me?

"Yes?"

Then, my courage fails me: I can't tell him. I can't risk all this for a leap in which the plummet is too far. Maybe I'm a coward. Maybe I don't deserve this life or the next: maybe I'm not worthy of anything that I possess. But I love him. And I always will love him. And that's a risk that I can't take.

"Never mind, I forgot what I wanted to say."

I'll give you the stars and the moon, James. Will you take them?

x

It's been three weeks since I left the Hospital Wing. I can walk and talk at the same time, which is very good news. The bad news is: I bloody miss that room. I miss my narrow cot, and the white-painted walls, and the stern nurse who chased James out come midnight. As I walk the cluttered corridors, constantly having my toes trodden on and my fingers smashed in doors, I go unnoticed. Even though the Head Girl badge on my rumpled school shirt calls for attention, no-one bothers to look and stare.

It took me all these years to figure it out. I'm completely ordinary. I've always believed that every eye was on me and that my every step had to be dainty and graceful. I thought that a photographer lurked in every corner, waiting for me. I was a bit delusional and a tad narcissistic, I think. Now, I've noticed that I'm not the only redhead with green eyes. I'm not the only muggle-born girl who gets good grades in their classes. Really, I'm quite plain overall.

Then, I started walking about with a new bunch of mates. If I must admit it, I'd say there were two things that kept me surfaced through the final months of school. There was Elladora Guffy: someone that I knew for years and years, but never really spoke with much. She was a tall girl, brushing past 6'2", and had the strangest appearance that I had ever seen. Then there was James Potter: James, who was everything while I was nothing. James always claimed that he didn't care about what others thought. I doubted this, but kept quiet.

James' friends -- Sirius, Peter and Remus -- joined us on occasion. They were nice fellows, but I knew they didn't approve of the fact that James was sacrificing his life to hang around with me and Elladora. Sirius especially wasn't fond of me: maybe he thought I was taking over his role in James' life. I don't think I'll ever know the answer to that question.

So, three weeks after my collapse, I was working the library with James and Elladora. The subject of my collapse had not been broached, for the topic still unsettled me greatly. I -- as I always did -- was doing my Defence Against the Dark Arts homework, a three foot essay on Phoenixes. Elladora was attempting -- and failing miserably-- to write her Potions essay, while James was busy doodling on his Charms work. It was just like every other day.

"Lily?"

I glanced up at Elladora, who was fiddling with her electric-blue quill. "What, Ellie?"

I admit it was a bit mean to call her that, but I enjoyed it immensely in my usual bitter way. Elladora hated nicknames with a burning passion, even though she assigned them to others with glee. I think she hated them because her stepmother's name was Elladora as well, and so she was often called 'Ellie' or 'Dora'.

Elladora glowered at me. "Look, you know quite well that I detest nicknames."

"Sorry, Elladora, I promise not to be such a nasty and spiteful friend again." I rolled my eyes, hiding a smirk behind my hand.

"Oh, come off it." She replied, snatching away my quill. "Sarcasm isn't your best asset, dahling."

"Shut up."

James decided to interrupt us. "Okay, we get it. Now, Lily, why did you--"

Now I saw where it was going. Gritting my teeth and tightening my hands into fists, I stared sullenly at the both of them, grinning like fools. They knew that I became testy whenever the topic of my "collapse" was brought up, but both of them were curious as hell. I couldn't tell them. And I knew, inside me, that perhaps I never would.

"James, Ellie: I don't want to talk about it."

Elladora instantly blanched. "Oh for fuck's sake, Lily, will you tell us already? We're your friends, we deserve to know."

"We want to help, but you're not letting us." James continued, his eyes burning brightly.

I wonder if I told him, would he would fret or just leave? Every single day, he spends with me yet I still want more. It's like some insatiable hunger for his touch, feel, and love. I need him now, more than anything, but he doesn't see that. He doesn't see me.

Please, James. I need you to see me.

"I don't want your help." I said slowly, fingers dancing a nervous foxtrot on the table. "I just need you two to be there. That's all I'm asking from you."

Elladora's freckled face fell dramatically. When she looked upset, it seemed as if the world was crying with her. She was not beautiful --not by a long-shot-- but she had this breathtaking, optimistic glow around her. Her gangly, boyish frame slouched further into the chair. She was upset.

"Ellie, it's complicated to explain." I pleaded, not knowing why the need to tell her had grown so desperate.

"Life's always complicated." She mumbled, her badly bleached hair falling into her eyes. "And don't call me 'Ellie'."

James just stared and stared and stared in that way of his. It only took a single glance in his direction to see why people loved him. All it took was a single glance, and then you were obsessed. So this was it. This was the light at the end of the tunnel. This was love and all that. It sucked, let me tell you.

Please, James. I need you to want me.

"Listen--"

She interrupted me, her mismatched eyes narrowed. "No, Lily, you listen. I've lived in the same dorm with you for several years. We've been friends for a single month. Really, I shouldn't care about what's happening to you, but I do. Call me a fool. But don't you dare act as if you're the only one who fell in love. Grow up, Princess; the world's a pretty big place."

I stopped breathing. Everything just froze as I stared at Elladora, with her weird looks and her optimistic views on life. James, meanwhile, was watching her with an alarmed look on his face. Did he know something that I didn't?

"Elladora, look, I'm really--" James started to say, catching her left hand in his.

"Sod off, Potter."

Standing up and wrenching her arm away from his, she stuffed all her books into her bag. As she was leaving the room, her eyes found mine across the room and just looked. It was... scary. I was used to Elladora Guffy, who laughed the loudest and would die the youngest. She was supposed to support me. I turned to James and smiled weakly.

"What the hell was that all about?" I asked him, glancing down at my hands.

"Nothing," was his reply, though I knew there was more to it.

Please, James. I need you to tell me.

I returned to my essay, rereading the last things I had written. The ink was smudged in some places and I could already spot some spelling errors, but it was mostly legible. I reached out for my quill, but it was gone.

"James, did you take my quill?"

He shook his head as he skimmed the Charms questions and found none that were challenging. I really loathed his utter brilliance some times. It took me a minute to realize that Elladora had my quill. Shit.

"Listen, I'm going to go retrieve my quill from Ellie. I'll see you in a bit." I said, grabbing my books and packing them neatly into my rucksack.

And that, as they say it, was that.

How does it feel to watch me walk away, James? Does it hurt?

x

It took me an hour to search the Gryffindor Tower for Elladora. Sadly, I couldn't find her and so I came down to the Common Room and just sat there. It had been three whole weeks since the last time I had done that. I had almost forgotten how much I loved this room and these people. Through everything, I had stayed all tense and anxious. It was almost as if I were waiting for the apocalypse to come and swallow me whole.

Two Second Years were playing a rather spirited game of Gobstones, and I secretly watched them. Each time one of the players squirted the other in ink, the winner would leap about the room, laughing madly and thrusting clean hands at the ink-covered student. I couldn't help but try to remember vainly when I was that young, to be excited by a mere win of Gobstones. Now, I had to think of destiny, a life beyond these castle walls. I had to think of love and life and that silly, stupid thing called the future.

"Lily?"

I fell out of the squashy chair I had been situated in. Instantly, my shoulder began to hurt. I glared up at James. James, with his bright eyes that looked right into yours as if he didn't want to miss a single thing about you. I tried to remind myself to stop gaping at him, but it was hard.

"Oh. Hello, James." I grinned shakily as I stood up and fell promptly back into the armchair.

"What're you doing?"

"Being pitiful and watching little kids play Gobstones. Damn it, I feel old."

He smiled warmly. "So you're okay, Lily?"

You used to call me yours, James. Now I'm "Just Lily".

"As fine as I'll be any day, Potter."

"Fabulous." He whispers, and watches as some ginger-haired little girl races around the room, squealing.

Her round cheeks are flushed from excitement and the heat. I wish I could give her a hug, but I think she'd find it creepy as hell. Her friends -- a gang of cute-looking girls with pigtails -- begin pelting her with chocolate truffles and assorted muggle candies.

"James?" I ask, as I grab a chocolate from the pillow next to my elbow.

God, I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him how wrong it was that he loved Rebecca. I wanted him to know how much I loved him. I wanted him to know anything and everything about me, and not to care one whit. But I know that I'm not strong enough to do that, not yet, and instead I'll settle on half the thought.

"Yes, Lily?" He snatches a silver-wrapped candy from the air and grins.

"She doesn't love you."

Not like I do. Don't you see it, James?

Like a door being slammed before my face, his jolly expression darkens and closes. His eyes betray frustration and exhaustion, his brows furrowing.

"Look, you've told me what you think," He tries to explain. "And we've been through this before. Love isn't something you'd really understand, not until it happens to you."

Yes, actually, I would. I've been in love with you for several years -- even though I've only known it for one -- and it hurts so badly. I loved you when you pulled my pigtails and when you spilled ink on my essays (accidentally, of course). I've loved you for so long, that my heart aches with every hit you've taken in Quidditch (43, not including the time you flew into a pole) and every single time one of my ex-boyfriends have punched in the face (7 times, but some of them hit you twice).

"You have no idea, James. And she doesn't really love you. But let's not argue; I'm sick of these fights."

"I agree."

Silence coats us as we watch the Second Years laugh and play, his cinnamon-scented cologne wafting up my nose and making my eyes involuntarily flutter shut. I love him. And I always have. I need to tell him, before it's too late. I glance at him, watching the hazel eyes that make me so dizzy and the soft smile that always makes me feel real.

Make me real, James. Why won't you just try?

"James?"

"...Mmm?"

Could I risk it all? Could I risk losing all the late-night study sessions, the silly yet hilarious jokes and the one-word conversations? Could I lose all the things friendship offers for another chance at a fool's game? I remember when he used to chase me, used to love the chase of that fool's game, his eyes always glittering with the challenge, his laugh always loud and bright. I wonder if I could recreate that passion with him. Can I make him live and love like he used to, or is that boy gone and replaced?

I've realized that I can't. I can't risk this. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do it. And, God, it hurts.

"Never mind, I forgot what I wanted to say. Just thanksfor being such a spiffy friend. It really means a lot, Potter."

In his eyes -- those fucking beautiful eyes that tell so much -- I see love and pride and friendship. I hope it'll always be like that. That's all I'm asking for, God, I just want another chance.

"Thanks, Evans. You're really great too."

And that's all we ever were: Potter and Evans. We were great and lovely, but not brilliant and bright. Maybe… Just maybe, one day we'll be Potter and Potter. One day I'll walk down the aisle to see him smiling at me, his hands jammed in his pockets, his hair freshly ruffled. One day he'll love me like I do. One day, for always.

"James?"

"What now, Lily?" His voice is light and teasing.

"Let's start over, Potter, pretend that history never got in the way."

"It sounds interesting."

He winks at me, something he hasn't done for the longest time. Straightening his posture and extending an arm, he said classily, "I'm James Potter. I'm a seventh year Gryffindor, Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. I like Irish girls in short tops and firewhiskey."

I laugh.

"Lily Evans, a pleasure to meet you. And, by the way, I like your eyes, they're very pretty."

... And, by the way, I'm deeply in love with you. Just thought I'd let you know.

Look over here, James.
What ever made you smile so?
Was it me?
I hope so.

-fin