Foolish Games by shoelacy

Lily Evans sat in the windowsill of the Head common room, knees drawn to her chest and chin resting on top of them. It was a Saturday, and her friends had invited her to spend the day with them in the Gryffindor tower, but she had declined. It was a particularly stormy Saturday—unusual for the season—and Lily had decided that she'd rather stay curled up in the silent warmth of the Head common room she shared with James Potter than spend a riotous afternoon with her friends.

James Potter. Thinking about him brought a slight smile to her face, something she would have found absolutely repulsive two years ago. She remembered when he was an arrogant fifteen-year-old trying to win her over with his enigmatic ways. His over-inflated ego seemed to work on other girls their age—and some older—but it never earned much admiration from Lily. It was last year sometime after Christmas that Lily noticed a change in his behavior. He stopped hexing people at random, although he did still play the occasional prank on the Slytherins. He stopped asking her to go out with him every chance he got, and he became much more civil. Lily remembered trying to ignore this new and confusing James. She wasn't sure how to act around him now that he was so different. She eventually accepted his change of character, and by the end of 6th year they were on a first name basis—a drastic improvement.

She supposed they couldn't have actually been called friends at that point. They were more like friendly acquaintances than anything else. James initiated a correspondence over the summer, however, and by the time they met back up in the Head compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Lily had accepted the title "friends" as an accurate description of their new relationship.

Lily remembered with a laugh the look of shock on the faces of the other students as she and James sat together at the feast and actually managed to have a normal conversation. Most figured it was because they were Head Boy and Girl, respectively, and were obligated to be civil with one another, but when James began escorting Lily to class without so much as a complaint from the latter, people began to talk.

Lily knew what people thought of her new friendship with James, but she couldn't have cared less. She was only sorry that she hadn't decided to befriend him sooner. James was quick-witted and funny, not to mention exceptionally handsome. Lily found him to be sensitive, as well, when she told him of her fears about the future and the oncoming war.

Lily turned her gaze to the grounds outside the window she was in front of. She saw a figure walking toward the lake and wondered who possibly in their right mind would be wandering about outside in this kind of weather. She squinted her vision through the rain and barely recognized the figure as James. Without a second thought, Lily shrugged on her cloak and made her way toward the grounds.

As soon as she stepped out the front doors, Lily wondered what made her decide to come out here. The storm, if possible, had gotten worse, and torrents of rain were whipping about wildly in the wind. She saw James standing by the lake and noticed for the first time that he wasn't wearing a cloak and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. Lily laughed to herself; only James would stand outside in a torrential downpour without a cloak and his sleeves rolled up. He didn't seem to notice her as she approached, and it wasn't until she was at his side with a hand on his arm that he even looked at her.

"James? What's wrong?"

He didn't respond and continued to stare at her, and Lily found herself drawn, as she always was, to his eyes. They were hazel,and Lily had often suspectedthat they held a certain magic all their own. Most of the time they held a mischievous glint that meant he was up to something, but sometimes, when no one else was looking, Lily was privileged enough to see those eyes turn soft and understanding. Now, however, they were staring at her with such intensity that Lily had to turn her gaze elsewhere. She looked at his hair, that wild, unruly, jet-black mop of hair that refused to be flattened even by the rain, and had to resist the urge to run her fingers through it. Finally, after several more moments of silence, Lily took James's hand and said, "C'mon, let's go inside. It's freezing out here."

As soon as they were back in their common room, Lily pushed James toward his room, telling him to change into some drier clothes. Instead of complying, however, he turned around and faced her. Again, that intense gaze. Lily pretended not to notice.

"James? If you don't change out of those clothes, you're sure to catch pneumonia. We can talk about whatever it is afterward."

She expected a dry laugh or a "yes, mother," in return, but James just nodded, walked into his room, and softly shut the door behind him.

Lily stared at his door for a moment in confusion, as though it would provide some answers to whatever questions were running through her head. When it failed to procure any, however, she moved toward the warmth of the fire and plopped down in her favorite armchair. For a brief moment, she wondered what the fire would feel like if it weren't so hot. She decided she would ask James when he came back.

James. He was such an enigma! Each time she thought she had him all figured out, he turned around and surprised her with another dimension of himself. First he was an arrogant schoolboy with a crush, then he was dynamic and witty and fast becoming her friend, and now…

And now…

Lily recalled a book on horses she had read, and found the method for taming wild horses oddly similar to her own situation. The book stated that when a trainer squared his shoulders and approached a horse while looking directly in its eyes, the horse flicked its tail and backed away. When the trainerturned away from the horse, however, and paid it no mind, it turned back and cautiously approached him.

Lily imagined herself as a wild horse confined to a pen, pawing furiously at the ground and snorting her frustration. She pictured James walking into the pen, squaring his shoulders, looking her directly in the eye, asking her every chance he got, "Go to Hogsmeade with me? Just one chance…!" She pictured herself, flicking her tail, backing away, refusing his every advance. And now…

And now…

Lily had always imagined that if James ever got his act together and moved on, she wouldn't miss his attentions one bit. Now that he had, however, she found that attention to be the one thing she missed the most about the old James. The moment he relaxed his shoulders and turned away from her, she found herself drawn to him, and, over the course of the year, attracted to him. The ironic tragedy of the whole situation was, of course, that James no longer seemed to reciprocate any of those feelings.

Lily was shocked to find her cheeks damp with moisture that had somehow managed to escape her eyes. Embarrassed, she frantically began wiping her face dry so James wouldn't see her crying, only to notice him leaning against his doorway, watching her. How long had he been there?

Suddenly and without warning, Lily began crying again, and in an instant James was in front of her, pulling her into his arms, asking her what was wrong, why was she crying? She let her tears soak his shoulder and told him all about how he didn't like her anymore, not like he used to, and suddenly his lips were on hers, and she clung to him like he was her life support, like she would die without him, because she would, because there was no way she could survive without him there to hold on to. And somewhere in between kisses and tears she heard him whisper, "I never stopped loving you," and Lily wondered how something could be so tragic and beautiful all at the same time.

Slowly, reluctantly, they pulled apart, though their bodies remained flush against the other's. James held Lily's face in his hands with such care and tenderness that she might have been porcelain, and her fists remained clutched in the front of his robes, as though she were afraid that if she let go, he would suddenly disappear, that all of this would suddenly disappear. A smile found its way across her face as James ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

"You never did tell me what you were doing out there." Lily said softly. She felt somehow that talking any louder would shatter the fragility of the moment.

"I don't actually know," James admitted just as softly. "I guess I knew that you were going to spend your day up here, and I couldn't bear the thought of being around you when I couldn't have you."

"James—"

"Don't apologize, Lily. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I wasn't going to."

"Yes you were."

"No—ok, yes I was. Happy?"

"Not yet."

Before Lily could question why, James had once again captured her lips in his. This time, however, there was nothing tragic about it. Each movement of his lips over hers held a question, and their uncertainty was almost tangible. One of her hands made its way up to fist in his hair as hissettled on her waist. A minute, an hour, an eternity later (Lily wasn't really sure), they pulled apart, but just enough so their noses remained touching.

"Lily?" James's voice rumbled deep in his chest.

"Hmm?"

"Does this mean you'll be my girlfriend now?"

"Well, yes, I suppose it has to, doesn't it? Unless you just fancy having a snog with me every now and then?" An impish smile made its way across her face. James tightened his hold on her.

"After all these years of chasing after you? No, you're my girlfriend now, whether you like it or not."

"If you say so." James looked her straight in the eye.

"I do."