A/N: hey, so it may or may not have been a year since I updated. Have a oneshot from two years ago to bide the time (that means there's going to be a new chapter soon hopefully)
You'll meet her. On a scarlet train. A platform. A train car. Compartment. You'll hate her best friend. You'll meet your new one. You'll ask her name. Lily. Lily with bright red curls and sparkly emerald eyes. Lily the muggleborn. Lily, beautiful Lily.
Gryffindor. Both of you. You'll get in one argument. Over her best friend. She'll call you names. You'll be hurt, but you can't tell her. You could never tell her.
So you keep up the arguments. One year passes to the next. You find it's the only way you can talk to her. To yell. To watch her yell back. You like her more when she yells, because she just looks so, alive. She just looks natural.
You'll get older. They'll tell you it's just an infatuation. You try to agree. Try to tell yourself it's just because you're teenager. It's just your hormones. Not you. You think about her though. A lot. You'll stay awake all night. On full moons. Find passageways, make a map. Try to forget about her, for just one minute.
One more year. One more year, but you still can't shake it. You think about her still, when you're supposed to be sleeping. Or working. Or listening. Or even eating. Of course you do. But she still doesn't think of you that way. She never did. It's okay though. You can deal with the disappointment. Right?
You'll still argue, but it's different. You're older, she really means it. She really hates you. It breaks your heart. You're the guy. You're not supposed to care. But you do. You care about her.
You care because it's not just an infatuation. Because her name always finds it's way into your mind, your parchment in doodles. It's always there. Lily Evans. So you ask her out. Once. The rejection just compels you to ask more. Twice turns to ten consecutive times. It's become more of a game. See how many time she says no. See how many times you can shake it off. See how many times she can break your heart.
You hate her friend. She's always hanging around him.
All it takes is one word. Levicorpus. You ask her out. Rejection. She's just trying to help him, but he shouts. Mudblood. She runs. You stand there, wanting nothing more than to hurt the boy that hurt her. But you don't. You can't. So you drop him. You find her. She tells you off, tells you to leave her alone. Tells you you're no better.
So you leave. And then it's summer. You think about her still. You'll stop asking her out. All it did was hurt you. She hurt you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? What's the point?
Back to school. The same scarlet train, but different. Because you think that so much has changed. Because you think you've finally gotten over her. Your mind is free from Lily Evans. Free from her name covering every piece of parchment, every conversation. But only for five minutes. And there she is, standing there completely perfect in every way. But of course, her lips are against another's, her fingers twisted in his.
She's just a girl. Really.
You'll stop talking to her. Maybe it'll make it easier. Maybe then you can stop thinking about her.
She doesn't plague your thoughts as she used to. You get into petty arguments during class. That's it. Just so something's normal. It won't ever be normal.
It doesn't last.
She tells you about it. You of all people. They broke up. You're happy, but you can't show it.
They say your mates now.
She says your mates now. It's sounds so much nicer coming from her. You smile more.
She laughs with you. You spend nights in the Common Room, her sitting beside you. She's perfect. She truly is.
You spend time with her over the summer. You do stupid things together, like dancing with no music, or singing terribly. You meet her parents, but in a more friendshippy way.
You both laugh a lot.
She sometimes catches you staring at her. Sometimes. You try your best not to.
And one night, you can't help it. She's laughing and her smile is perfect and she just looks so beautiful. So perfect. You almost kiss her. Almost.
She stops you.
You're just mates, remember?
She leaves awfully fast. You ruined it. Ruined your relationship with her.
When your back to school, you ignore each other. You avoid her. Because she doesn't think of you that way. She never has.
You can deal with the disappointment, remember?
But you know deep down you really couldn't. Ever.
You start seeing other girls. You convince yourself you like them enough to snog them. To maybe take it a little farther. She's just a girl.
You go a few months without talking to her other than for class purposes only.
It's Christmas. You're drinking. You tend to do that a lot more now. It's a habit. You walk into the Common Room, and she's there. Of course she is.
She gets up, crossing the Common Room, and hugs you. She wishes you a Merry Christmas. She walks up to her dormitory. You smile a little.
You ask her to the Christmas party the next morning. She says yes. But only as friends.
You dance. Her arms are around your neck and yours around her waist. She's beautiful, wearing blue. And, at the end of the night, she kisses your cheek.
You think again how perfect she is.
And you become mates again.
Sort of.
You laugh a lot. And smile too.
And soon the end of the year comes. Your last year. The last day. You and her walk. Around the school, the classrooms. There's a party, but you don't want to go yet. You sit down outside, by the lake and the tree. The sky is dark and the stars are out. She looks absolutely beautiful.
So you kiss her.
There's no almost this time. No just barely. No cheek.
You really kiss her, and she kisses you back.
And then you're there, on a platform where you met her, beside a scarlet train.
And you smile, because everything is so different, but it couldn't be better.