In celebration of Lily Evans' birthday, I have decided to post this little fic that has sat unused and unloved for far too long.

(Rewritten)

23rd October, 1978

Lily Evans sat alone, staring at her reflection in the darkened glass of one of Gryffindor Tower's ancient windows. Winter crept through the skeletal trees in Hogwarts' grounds, cloaked by cool, fog which clung to the night. Any frigid air that crawled through the cracks in the castle's stone walls was defeated by the roaring fire in the common room. Gryffindor's residents had taken advantage of every available surface talking, laughing and reading. Others, like Lily, had sought more private alcoves to complete homework away from distractions, or to write home.

Miss Evans hunched over a potions essay, was not a sight considered to be out of the ordinary. However, if James Potter had any talents outside the realms of quidditch or transfiguration, his knowledge of Lily Evans certainly took first place. Her usually neat hair was escaping the confines of its side braid, her uniform was crumpled, and her tie askew. Her change in appearance, coupled with the twirling of her quill while she gazed vacantly out the window was enough to ring alarm bells in his head. All in all, it was obvious that something was bothering the Head Girl.

She froze. He was doing it again. Why on earth could he not quit staring at her? Lily felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she tugged at her braid. The action caused more fiery tendrils to fall loose, almost creating a curtain around her face. She sighed at her feeble attempt to hide, but the library was closed, and curfew began in ten minutes. There was nowhere to run if he decided to approach her. With a groan, she dropped her quill and folded her arms. No matter how many times she tried to shut them down, the symptoms of her disease simply refused to be cured. She felt her heart pounding and her palms begin to sweat at the thought of him filling the empty seat opposite her. Talking about head duties or classes to begin with, lulling her into a false sense of security before he made her laugh, and forget all about the essay in front of her.

Dammit, her subconscious Potter had already done just that.

"Pathetic" she grumbled, pulling her legs up on chair to rest her chin on her knees. It didn't make sense, she had faced so many challenges as a working class muggleborn, confronted so many dangers on her own. She had been a prefect, now head girl. She had survived a death eater attack in Diagon Alley in the summer, she had endured her childhood best friend joining those who wanted to eradicate her kind, suffered her own sister turning against her, and her Father's death in sixth year. 'STOP THIS' her mind screamed, get a ruddy grip. If she couldn't cope with the flames igniting her blood with a single look from a teenage boy, how could she cope with joining the order? Fighting for what's right?

But she never had reason to doubt herself before. It was like she had no defence against him. Bloody James Potter...he pushed her over the edge. Now that he had matured, not just physically - despite the many favours puberty had granted him - but mentally. Gone was the bullying toe rag with a head, and ego the size of a hot air balloon. The new and improved Potter was loyal, kind and so incredibly funny that she found herself in tears of laughter every night they had rounds. He had stopped the stupid pick-up lines that haunted her through third and fourth year, stopped asking her out after fifth year, and apologised for his role in the incident by the lake during OWLs. The one that had cut any remaining strings of her friendship with Snape.

Her younger self would laugh at the idea of civility between herself and Potter, Merlin knows her friends had in sixth year. But now he was as important to her Alice, Marlene or Remus. Even Sirius had become one of her closest friends. Their lives were so entwined that she couldn't avoid him even if she wanted to, they shared the head's quarters, after all. It's just that the minute she's next to him, the fire takes hold. She finds herself falling, but he is her gravity. A shoulder to cry on, the calm in her storm.

It wasn't as if her feelings were unreciprocated, no matter what his recent change in behaviour would indicate. Sirius had begged her not to hurt him only last night, warning that James couldn't take another rejection.

Lily closed her eyes, leaning back to rest her head on cool, hardwood chair. When had everything become so complicated?

James' eyes still rested on Lily. Merlin, she's beautiful, he thought, as he drank in the image of her bathed in the orange glow of the fire. Patterns danced in her hair, they gleamed in contrast to the obsidian backdrop created by the darkened window behind her. James rose from the armchair he occupied by the fire, handing his unread textbook to Remus before he crossed over to the table she had claimed by the window. He dropped into the empty seat opposite her. "Essay giving you trouble?" He asked, knowing perfectly well that potions never troubled her. "I would advise you to tell old Slughorn to stuff it, but that wouldn't be very appropriate for a Head Boy to say."

"No, it wouldn't" she replied, her eyes blinking open. Emerald eyes met hazel, and suddenly she felt like Alice in Wonderland. She was falling down the rabbit hole into the unknown, falling like a burning stone. But with every look, every word, every touch, it felt like he was her gravity. He smiled, and it became clear that there was nothing she could do.

Perhaps it was time to let go.

This was based on a song called 'Control by Matrix and Futurebound ft. Max Marshall' and features some of the lyrics.