Spinning Around
Summary: Lily Evans has been dared to put her deepest secret in a bottle and throw it out to sea. As she writes the letter, she reminisces about the past year, during which her hate for James Potter turned into love.
Author Notes: Silly one-shot. Thinking about doing an epilogue of sorts, but we'll see. I actually wrote the majority of this in 2006, and just happened upon it on my computer yesterday. The first scene was inspired by "You're the Only One" by Maria Mena. And all the names of places I used are actually locations in the South of Britain, but I have no idea how they relate to each other geographically or what kinds of areas they actually are. Just go with it! Oh, and for my TND readers, a new installment should be up sometime next week. Thanks for reading!
May 31, 1977
To Whom It May Concern:
My Name is Lily Evans. I'm a 17 year old student just finishing up my second to last year of school at a boarding school in the mountains. I've been dared to spill my deepest darkest secret on paper, stick it in a glass bottle, and then toss it into the ocean this summer when I visit my aunt in South Downs. Anna Darling, my best friend and the person who gave me this dare, is currently standing over my shoulder, ensuring that I do indeed tell my secret.
So here it goes: I, Lily Colleen Evans, am sickly, hopelessly, ridiculously in love with James William Potter.
One of my clearest memories of school was the day I fell in love with him. It was last year—our Fifth Year—and term was winding to a close. The late-May sun was beating down overhead, and we were graciously given the day off by Dumbledore. Several students locked themselves in their rapidly filling common rooms and dormitories to avoid the heat, but I opted for the outdoors.
Choosing a tree that was offering a pathetic amount of shade considering its size, I made myself comfortable on my red and white striped beach towel. I rolled over onto my stomach to keep my eyes away from the glare of the sun, and to make sure that six thousand more freckles wouldn't appear onto my already freckly face. I picked up my worn out copy of my favorite book—To Kill A Mockingbird—and began to read when a loud laugh shattered the silence.
Sitting up sharply, I turned around and looked for the source of the offending noise. Not more than 10 yards down, close to the lake shore, I found it.
He and his friends were sitting by the water, all four of them shirtless with swimming shorts on. Lupin was stretched out on the ground propped up on his elbows, water up to his thighs. He was squinting his eyes in the bright sunlight and laughing exuberantly. Pettigrew was sitting, cross-legged, farthest away from the water, his hiccupping laugh shaking his short frame. Black was beside Lupin, legs out in front of him, his back to the lake. He was leaning back on his hands, which were just barely in the water. His smoky eyes were alive with laughter, and I hated myself for appreciating how nice and yummy he looked, posed in the most perfect way as to show off his toned chest. The way his silky dark hair fell in his eyes made me think of the year before, when he accidentally stole my first kiss.
And then there was him. Potter.
His laugh was the one I heard; I'm sure of it. He was the only one standing up. His lanky, muscular arms were stretched out above his head. His impossible hair was flopping all over the place and he was laughing so hard I remember wondering how he stayed upright.
The git was spinning. Around and around he went in a dizzying motion that almost hurt to watch. It made me think of the Christmas party we had held in the common room that year when I stupidly drank the spiked punch he gave me, then let him twirl me around in front of the fire. I ran to the loo as fast as I could—which wasn't very fast at all, mind you, for I was quite plastered. Luckily for me, however, Potter felt bad for getting me so sick and carried me to the nearest bathroom. He even held my mane of curly red frizz back for me.
Watching him spin at that moment, around and around in crazy circles, I thought of all the other crazy things he'd done. All the pranks, all the jokes, all the laughs. All the fun. I remember wondering if he'd ever grow up, or if he'd end up like Peter Pan: forever young. I wondered if he'd thought about his life past Hogwarts, or if his only plan was to live each day one crazy prank at a time.
Watching him laugh with his hands high above his head, I choose the latter.
Leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, I kept my eyes on the infamous Marauders. I watched as Remus splashed water onto a protesting Sirius, and I watched him splash back. I watched Pettigrew bounce up and down his spot, screaming questions like Are you dizzy yet, Prongs? and How much longer will you go?
And I watched Potter spin. He was still going. The other three had backed up considerably, for he was spinning a bit more violently now, his long legs all over the place.
I remember wondering about how much longer he would go. He looked dreadfully dizzy by then, and his goofy looking grin wasn't as wide as it was and his face was somewhat greener than—
Boom.
I watched as Potter stumbled and fell to the ground, landing straight on his bum. I watched as his friends snorted with laughter as they helped in untangle his never-ending limbs. And as I watched, I realized that my stomach was fluttering in the most embarrassing way, and my heart was thudding so loudly against my chest I was sure those dumb Marauders could hear it. I slumped against the tree, putting a hand over my chest to steady my rapid heartbeat. I closed my eyes trying to figure out what was wrong with me, but all I could see was James falling to the ground; over and over again...
And then it hit me.
As that stupid, floppy-haired prat stumbled to the ground that hot, disgusting Wednesday, I fell too. I fell hard and fast for James Potter.
He's an insufferable jerk and hasn't quit bothering me since I met him in our first year of school. He used to ask me out all the time, still does in fact. I know what you're thinking—if he constantly asks me out, why don't I just say yes? I love him after all.
But it's a bit more complicated than that. Before I fell for him, I would turn him down because I hated him. Now… well, I suppose it's turned into a matter of pride.
I'm supposed to be strong, and strong girls don't fall for James Potter. They just don't.
"Hey Evans!" James said cheerfully, throwing his lanky self next to me on the couch.
The first time James asked me out after I fell in love with him was the last weekend of the school year. It was Friday night, and the next day was the last Hogsmeade visit before we all went home the following Wednesday.
I hesitated. "Hi Potter," I said finally. Still new at the game of hidden love, I was paranoid about accidentally blurting out my affection.
He casually slipped his arm around my shoulder and gave me a cocky grin. "Tomorrow's the last Hogsmeade visit. Fancy going with me?"
"Absolutely not," I blurted without thinking. It wasn't until moments later when he said, "I figured you'd say that," that I realized what I had said. It didn't register in my mind that I had once again turned him down until he stood up and tousled my hair before walking off.
I remember Anna dragging me outside and yelling at me for declining Potter when I had the perfect chance to let him know that I finally cared for him the way he cared for me.
The year ended before I knew it, and within a week I was back home in Surrey. Over the summer I thought about him a lot, and realized that no matter how long I waited to say yes to him, I would always get slack for it. People would always wonder why I gave in to the one thing I had always stayed away from. I was Lily Evans, forever known as the girl who consistently turned down James Potter. I had hated him for being so carefree and charismatic, and then I turned around and fell for him for that exact reason.
No, I said. After hours of debating with Petunia, I finally decided that no, I would not say yes to James. Ever. Eventually I'd get over this small infatuation.
"Lily," Petunia said exasperatedly, "love knows no pride. If you really think you feel for this boy, then you should tell him."
I stubbornly shook my head. "No, Pet. You said it yourself: you can't teach an old dog new tricks."
"I was talking about Sassy!" she exclaimed, referring to our dachshund.
I waved my hand dismissively. "Details, details," I said. "It doesn't matter anyway, it's still relevant. James and his goons have played more than half of Hogwarts, and we've only just finished our Fifth Year. I don't want to be added to that list, Petunia. I won't stand for it. I'm not much, but I'm better than that."
My sister sighed. She's three years older than me, and we fight all the time because we're exact opposites, but at the end of the day, when it's just me and her, she's always on my side.
"I know you are, Lily," she said finally. "I know you are. I just don't want you to regret."
"I won't," I said firmly. "There's nothing to regret. Besides, I'm barely 16. I'm practically a baby. What do I know about love?"
If I thought getting over James Potter would be easy, I was largely mistaken. With time, my infatuation has only gotten worse. James Potter became smoother, smarter, and curiously cuter with each passing day. It's been exactly a year to the day that I fell for him, and I only love him more.
The thing about James—the thing that really gets me—is that he's not just a dumb Marauder. Merlin, as much as I love him, this is really hard to say… but James is actually smart. Everything comes so easily to him, particularly Transfiguration. And his Quidditch skills are phenomenal. He flies with such grace and ease.
And… I guess even I have to admit… he can be rather funny at times.
A week after Sixth Year began, James found me sitting in the Great Hall with Anna during dinner. In just eight days, he had succeeded in asking me out 9 times, doubling up on the day we boarded the train.
"Hey ladies," he said smoothly, sliding into the seat next to me.
"Hey Potter," Anna greeted, "where's your army?"
He began piling mounds of food on his plate. "Broom closet."
"All three of them?" I asked. "Together?"
James waved his hand at me. "Not like that," he said dismissively, shaking both salt and pepper onto his potatoes. "They're playing a prank of Snivellus and waiting for him to walk by."
"Why aren't you with them?" Anna asked, shaking her dark brown fringe from her eyes.
James grinned wolfishly and slung an arm around my shoulders. I tried to shrug it off, but he didn't budge. "Just wanted to see my honey," he said cheekily.
I scoffed and once again tried to throw his arm off.. "I don't see your honey anywhere around here, Potter. You might want to check the Hufflepuff table."
He only pulled me closer. "One of these days you'll get it, Evans. You'll realize how much you love me and we'll have a dozen babies together."
I blushed and shoved his arm off my shoulders, and then blushed some more. Luckily he took the flush in my face as a sign of anger, not embarrassment at the possibility of a dozen little Lily's and James's.
The three of us sat in silence as James began shoveling food in his mouth. I took out my Charms notes and started looking over the material we covered that day in class and Anna spent most of the time inspecting her nails.
Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew didn't appear in the Great Hall until the treacle tarts appeared on the table. James looked up at Sirius as he sat down next to Anna.
"Did it work?" he asked somewhat anxiously.
Sirius shrugged. "Ten minutes, right? We'll see in a little bit."
I bit my lip, but didn't ask. I looked at Anna and saw that she was as curious as I was.
Ten minutes and several glances towards the Slytherin table later, I finally found out what they had done.
"AHH!" Severus yelped, "HOT!" He grabbed his goblet and chugged it down. Even from my seat across the room, I could see that he was panting and steam was practically floating out of his ears.
The four Marauders were doubled over laughing as Snape continued to take a bite, scream, then chug, in that order.
"What's wrong with him?" I asked, elbowing Remus, who was sitting on my right.
"We charmed his tongue," he replied grinning, "so that all material food that touches it tastes extra hot and spicy."
"Yeah," Peter added, "The stupid bloke won't be able to eat right until breakfast!"
Anna and I scowled. "That's mean," she said stubbornly.
"No it's not," Sirius said. "It's funny."
James nudged me. "You think it's funny, don't you, Ev?"
I did. I thought it was hilarious. But I couldn't tell that without shocking and awing our entire table, so I simply glared at him instead.
I once thought that James and I had nothing in common besides which dorm we live in, but even that theory has been dispelled. Over this past year I've discovered that we are much more alike than I thought.
I guess that goes to show you that it's easy to close your eyes to the things you don't want to see.
Just before the Christmas hols this year, Anna and I found ourselves sitting with James in the Common Room. An awkward silence surrounded the three of us. James began tapping a beat with his hands on his jeans and humming some ridiculous sounding song. Despite the uproar of people running around in an attempt to pack up everything, all I could hear were the palms of his hands making the rhythm of the song.
It slowly became irritating. I slapped at his hands when I couldn't take it anymore, but he somehow managed to grab my hand in his own and intertwine his fingers with mine. I snatched my hand back and quickly looked away. I could feel the heat rising on my face.
"So Potter, where's your goon squad?" Anna asked suddenly. I think she saw how red my face was, but then again, how could you miss it?
"Upstairs packing. I guess I should be up there with them," he said, looking up towards the stairs.
"Have you packed yet?" I asked absentmindedly, not looking at him.
"Nope," he replied. At the precise moment I decided to sneak a glance at him, he stood up, and all I could see was the book sticking out his back pocket.
I blinked. My first thought was surprise at the fact that Potter reads outside of class (which he hardly did anyway).
Then I noticed the familiar color of the book cover.
"What're you reading, Potter?" I blurted. He instinctively reached for the book in his pocket.
"Oh, I've been look for this!" he laughed, pulling out the book. "It's To Kill A Mockingbird by—"
"Harper Lee," Lily interrupted.
"Yeah," James nodded, "that's the one." He then loped off in his James Potter way, leaving me sitting on the couch alone, open-mouthed, staring at his retreating back as he walked up the stairs to join his friends.
I've been very careful to make sure that no one at school finds out about my puppy love for James Potter. I'm actually very nervous that the wrong person will find this letter and blab it to everyone as the start of next term, but I never back down from a dare.
Hopefully you, the new keeper of my horrible secret, are a simple fisherman from Petersfield or the mother of 8 children in Hastings with no interest in my silly antics. I can only hope as much, anyway.
So there you have it. Anna is lying on my bed laughing herself into a stupor and I am redder than an apple, so I believe this is where my letter ends. Thank you for reading. As awful as this has been to write, I do feel slightly better getting it all out and less like I'm going to throw up everywhere.
My best regards,
Lily Evans
…Three Months Later…
James Potter and Sirius Black spent the last few weeks of summer in Brighton at the Potter family vacation house. It was their last day before the beginning of their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and the two Marauders chose to spend the day at the beach.
James, absolutely knackered from his failed attempts at surfing, sat on the shore watching Sirius repeatedly wipe out, he refusing to give up.
"This is it, Prongsy old boy! I can feel it!" Sirius yelled over his shoulder, paddling towards the wave.
James laughed and shook his head. He leaned back onto the sand and stretched out his arms, when his hand made contact with a solid object. He wrapped his fingers around it and brought it to his face.
It was a glass bottle.
