Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Today, He Told Me
Today, he told me she was interesting.
He was captivated by her green eyes and spellbound by her flowing red hair. Most importantly, he seemed amazed by her vibrant personality- she was quiet but independent, smart yet humble, both bold and compassionate. How he determined all this on our first trip on the Hogwarts Express, I will never know. When her name was called during the Sorting, I watched him closely from my seat at the Gryffindor table. His cool bravado was momentarily shaken as he watched her intently. After Evans, Lily had been declared a Gryffindor, I observed a slight grin brighten his face. Then he seemed to remember himself, and once again assumed his nonchalant demeanor. When he too had been sorted, he swaggered over and sat down across from me, flashing a smirk. Before he directed his attention back to the Sorting, I noticed that he shot a quick glance down the table at the redhead. Interesting indeed.
Today, he told me she was annoying.
Coming from a kid who wakes me up by jumping on my bed and talks about Quidditch in his sleep, I cannot always take such a complaint seriously. It probably just bugs him that she's ahead of him in almost all of our classes. He likes to be the best, you know. Usually that's a great thing, because it means that James Potter never settles. We marauders have already done some great things because he refuses to accept anything less than the best. Presumably, he's frustrated that he can't always be on top. It must bug him when she tells him off, too. She hates it when we pick on Snivellus. As much as he tries to tell us that her scolding annoys him because she acts like his mother, I think it's really because he knows she's right. Snape is so loathsome that he feels like he has to do something, but he knows that this isn't exactly considerate, so it bothers him that somebody has the guts to point it out. While I do enjoy torturing Snape, it's quite true that our pranks are far from kind. And although I recognize this, our treatment of Snape has become necessary to our sanity. He is the only visible outlet we have to tackle the injustices outside Hogwarts. Without him, we would feel even less helpful than we already do. Feeling helpless is far more than annoying.
Today, he told me he couldn't stand her.
Of course, he elaborated on this main idea for a solid thirty seven minutes, making it the longest rant he's had about her to date. His opening argument for her dreadfulness was the long-time standby: her constant interference in our pranks. He seems to think that her inclination to protect Snape from humiliation and bodily harm characterizes her as a horrible person. From this point he expanded his argument to pick apart every tiny flaw in her character. He christened her Little Miss Perfect- since his numerous detentions must conceal a pristine academic record identical to hers- and then dubbed her Teacher's Pet- because he only flatters teachers when attempting to avoid trouble. This line of reasoning was followed by the complaint that she called him a bully or a toerag far too often. He grumbled that she was overly neat, and whined that her organization constricted free-spiritedness in the castle. Then he paused for a brief moment in his tirade to yell at the rest of us that he couldn't find his invisibility cloak in the mess we called a dormitory. When his rage again recommenced, he criticized her habit of twirling strands of hair around her finger whenever she became lost in thought. This was said as he ruffled his hair in frustration. Finally running out of steam, he criticized that her green eyes and red hair were Christmas colors that were ridiculously out of season during any month except December. He finished in an extremely aggravated state, declaring that she was impossible to put up with.
Today, he told me she was pretty.
He sits right behind her in Charms along the left wall, and has taken to staring at the back of her head. He tells me that the light from the window catches her hair and little beads of sunlight are reflected like a glistening ruby. His words, not mine. Now when she twirls her hair, he's entranced by the motion. It really has become quite impossible for him to pay attention in any class with a clear path to Lily, not like he's ever really listened to teachers. He also says her eyes are like emeralds. I guess he's dying to buy her expensive jewelry. Her skin is like porcelain, her hands look as soft as silk, her lips are perfectly formed and strawberry red…But the prettiest thing about her, he says, is her laugh, because it reminds him of spring- something about singing birds. Apparently, now he thinks Christmas colors are very pretty.
Today, he told me he loves her.
Really, it wasn't something I needed to be told. Anyone who sees the way he looks at her would know he loves her. And anyway, I've known longer than he has. I could see that he valued her intelligence, adored her neatness, found her quirky habits endearing, and worshipped her ability to stand up to him. He admired her kindness and her confidence, and accepted all her faults as essential parts of the woman he loved. So the best thing he told me today was not that he loves her, but that she said she loves him back.
Today, he told me he was going to marry her.
My own swell of emotion was so great that I cannot even begin to imagine how he must have been feeling. Of course, it wasn't much of a surprise. I had known he was planning to ask her for a few weeks- I had helped pick out the ring. It was simple and elegant, just like her, with a diamond and two tiny emeralds- no doubt he was thinking of her beautiful eyes. He also asked me to be his best man, which I accepted immediately. Although I had known of his intent to propose, I must admit that I was overwhelmed with joy upon hearing the news. Actually, I was overcome by so much happiness that I got a little teary-eyed, which probably wasn't helped by his own cracking voice in his state of elation. It's been one thing to watch my best friend fall in love with the girl I've long known he was going to marry, but to finally see that the day would come…He's going to be so happy when he marries her.
Today, he told me she was going to have a baby.
I couldn't believe he was going to be a dad. It was definitely another hug moment. Not exactly manly, but we didn't care. He's going to be a dad, and I'm going to be a godfather. A godfather! It's just amazing to think that there'll be a little baby in our lives next summer. The dad-to-be is tremendously excited, but also a bit nervous, understandably. I told him that he's going to be the best dad to his son or daughter. I told him he would teach him or her how to ride a broom, and how to swim, and how to get into the kitchens at Hogwarts and play Quidditch and sing and laugh and love. And as I told him he would be a great father, he seemed to believe it himself. I know their baby will be one of the luckiest.
Today, he told me she named the baby Harry.
Harry, after her grandfather. Tufts of jet black hair, long nose, and bony knees already mark this tiny child as a near clone of his father. Harry has his mother's eyes, though. Brilliantly green, they open just for a few moments to eat before he drifts back into slumber. It's clear that his parents couldn't be happier. Both are so proud of their little boy, and it's easy to see why. When she passed Harry to me to hold, my heart nearly burst with happiness. Immediately I fell in love with the sleeping bundle, complete with small fingers and tiny ears. Looking up at her, I saw her eyes shining with such joy as I had never before known one person could experience. After a few moments, I passed Harry to his father. He was clearly beside himself with delight, absolutely marveling over his new son. Harry was certainly the most wonderful baby I had ever seen.
Today, I told her I loved her.
She couldn't hear me, but I still wanted her to know. I came to consider her a sister. Now I regret I never told her. Not only do I love her for everything she has done for me- keeping me out of trouble, cooking me dinner, giving me advice- but I love her because she has made my best friend the happiest man in the world. He told me many things about her over the years, but the most important things I've known all along. I know he would light up around her as with no one else. I know he would have given her world if she asked. I know he was absolutely crazy about her since they met. I know he will always love her, and their son, more than life itself. And for this, I will forever love her too.
A/N: I'm not really sure how to categorize this story. Romance, tragedy...? The tone I was going for was kind of sad, sentimental. Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!