Disclaimer: I wish I was Jewels5, let alone JKR. No way in hell do I own anything that awesome.
He and She
June 5th, 1978
She has the perfect view of the back of his head.
She almost wishes she didn't, because in the last two weeks every time she looks at him her eyes well up with tears for so many different, painful reasons. But she'll never cry in public, and she'll never show those stupid gossips they've gotten to her.
Concentrating on her Charms N.E.W.T. should be her only purpose for today. She can't think about him and everything that's happened between them
But the words on the test before her are in an alien language.
She watches as he shifts in his chair and scribbles away, noticing in a hopeless way how his back flexes and strains with the simple act of using a quill. It's hard to ignore how alluring and beautiful that sight is to her, and harder still to ignore the prickling behind her eyes as he ruffles his hair in frustration.
There's no point in watching him, at least that's what she tells herself.
But his own words have come back to haunt her.
Because she needs to see him to reassure herself that he is still there, still as beautiful and frustrating (still as wonderful and infuriating) as she remembers. And she's dying inside, knowing that she's not good enough and not worthy of him.
"You got the rounds all drawn up, then?"
"Yeah. Covered that last night."
"Oh, alright then. …Evans -"
"What, you can't even call me Lily now? One snog from another bird and it's back to last names?"
"That not what I -"
He can't focus, though he's trying. He has to get an O on his five main courses to get into the Auror programme, but when he thinks of Charms and N.E.W.T.s and studying, thoughts of her inevitably follow, and thoughts of the last two weeks.
The last two weeks… he's hated himself (and her, a little bit) throughout that time.
He hates that he snogged Laurel Mackenzie, that he would've shagged her even though he thinks nothing of her. He hates that Laurel is following him around as if she's entitled to him and the way she sends her those triumphant, cruel looks. He hates that he liked snogging Laurel even without wanting revenge.
He hates that mix of pity and disgust in Sirius' eyes whenever she walks in or out of a room, and he hates that those feelings aren't directed towards her at all but at him instead. He hates that they still have to work with each other under the guise of civility as Head Boy and Girl when all they want to do is avoid.
He hates that he crushed her so completely.
If anyone asks her, she denies it, but he knows her well enough to see she's upset. Beyond upset.
What he hates most of all?
He hates that, even as it kills him to see her in pain because he still (stupidly) loves her, there's a part of him taking vindication in her suffering.
"Not interested, sorry. I'm done listening to you."
"Is this what the entire meeting's going to be like?"
"I can be professional, James. Surely that's not slipped your memory already."
"What do you want me to say?"
She's grateful that only one more Prefect meeting stands between her and the summer. If there were anymore she might feign sickness.
Answers for her exam are coming easily to her, and she writes them down with the attention she'd grant a passing butterfly. Yes, it's all very interesting and good, but she's got thoughts that run deeper than all that.
What she's thinking and feeling is all about him.
She'd rather just forget him and find a new way to live her life, but the subtle irony of her existence is that, as soon as she accepted her life was wrapped around him, her whole world shattered and she needed to escape from all that he is. And since all that he is makes up all she is, she's a glaringly empty hole.
She spends most of her time with Mary and Hannah, both of whom rock her to sleep some nights when she's crying into her pillow (though she tries to be quiet). Mary had her own heart broken a few weeks back, but she feels less entitled than Mary to be upset, because she made it happen, she pushed him to the very edge.
They come pouring out of her eyes anyway, but she can't help but feel she doesn't deserve to shed any tears.
If she hadn't made such a mess of things, that horrible Mackenzie cow wouldn't have gotten involved.
Even so, she's angry and hurt and she wants to make him feel just as terrible. A part of her, a small part, realizes he feels guilty but she's vindictive and cold and the pain inside her fuels a rage that acts as a shell around all her fragile bits.
She watches him pause over his exam, and wonders what's on his mind.
It's not fair, and in a moment of bitterness she blames him for everything.
"Oh, honestly - haven't you figured it out by now? I don't want you to say anything to me anymore. If it's not about Head business then don't speak."
"…Lily, I didn't -"
"That's speaking."
"Yeah, well, we're going to have to speak sometime."
"No we don't."
He's worried, perhaps the first time in his life, about how well he's doing on this bloody exam. Each time he pauses and glances up to the front the sand in the hourglass has fallen more and more. Soon McGonagall will call for the exams and he'll not be finished.
He grits his teeth and forces his mind to concentrate.
Except… except he can't help but glance over at Sirius, who's already finished his own test and is leaning back in his chair, looking bored and casually eyeing the girl in front of him (he notes with muted surprise that it's Jennifer Lindsay).
Sirius, who's never had more than a passing fancy. Sirius, who hasn't known love in his short, horribly stagnant life.
He envies Sirius.
He sighs and begins reading lines, writing answers, forcing thoughts, doing all with a speed he can barely afford to keep. Words don't pour out of his hand as they did during so many other of his exams - they are being teased out like a reluctant molasses of understanding. He's going to fail.
It occurs to him then, as it's occurred to him many times, that she could have helped him study for this. She could have provided him with help.
No, these exams are his future, and since she's no longer a part of his future they can't be associated with one another. The idea of her no longer existing in his world is a strange one, and for a second he almost puts down his quill in surprise and dismay.
McGonagall calls the time.
"Lil -"
"James, shut up! I can't do this! I can't stand here and listen to you explain things because there's no explanation. I fucked up, but then so did you."
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Don't be such a liar."
She had expected Sirius to hate her most, out of principle.
But his best mate, the charmingly handsome Sirius Black, is the only one of the four boys who still spends time with her. Remus avoids her because he hates confrontation and Peter follows his lead. But Sirius?
She's surprised by how sweet he is. He doesn't ask questions about what happened, he doesn't blame one or the other and takes both their sides because he cares for them both. It's a friendship she never expected to form when she fell in love with him, but she's immensely grateful.
She sits outside with him, and studies with him for their exams (only two left now), and they play chess. Sirius doesn't say a lot of words.
And now, as her classmates shuffle out of the Great Hall with expressions of mixed relief and terror, Sirius takes her hand and leads her out of the castle and away from gossip. His hand is warm and smooth and friendly, and she imagines nothing better than holding his hand for the rest of her life.
Further out they go, out towards the Quidditch pitch.
The sun is warm on her skin and she can feel the summer freckles splashing on to her nose. For the first time in days, she laughs.
She gives Sirius a grateful smile as he glances back at her. He's a better man than she's ever given him credit for and she regrets passing him off for some simple arrogant bully. Of course, she also regrets passing him off as well, but she doesn't want to dwell on that.
"I'm not lying, I really didn't mean -"
"You've no interest in that slag, you never did, and I told you flat out I didn't like her looking at you."
"I… well, what I meant is…"
He follows them, though he doesn't know why. He has no purpose in knowing what they're doing together.
Sirius wouldn't ever do something like that to him. He's a decent mate and there's a certain understanding between blokes about friends' girls and ex-girls, and there is no question in his mind that Sirius wouldn't cross that line under pain of death.
But his feet move in discordance with reason and he follows them all the same.
He watches as Sirius takes her into the stands and places her in a seat. Even from this far away, he sees her smiling.
He resents that smile. Every time she smiles a little bit of him is stolen away with it. Time was he'd give anything to see it and now when her face lights up he wants to run away though he's glued to the grass.
Sirius begins acting out something strange and involving lots of wild gestures and lunges. He almost laughs at the sight before him, but then he sees her laugh and something crunches inside his chest most unpleasantly. It's both sad and interesting that things about her he used to celebrate are now painful to behold.
He's got to get her out of his life.
He's got to pull her out by the roots. She's tangled herself inside him so very deeply, but as soon as he leaves Hogwarts she has to be sucked from him like a poison.
It's a mark of how dangerous she is to him that he mixes his metaphors like swapping socks.
"I told you how much I hated her. There's no way you weren't trying to hurt me, so don't insult me."
"What do you want from me? What can I do to make this better?"
"…Are you saying you want to get back together, James?"
She only gives Sirius half her attention as he plays out the Quidditch match of two days past. After all, she was hardly in the right state to see him flying around, looking beautiful and determined and all the crowd cheering for him.
She doesn't mind watching Sirius dance around - in fact, she finds it absolutely hilarious - but being around Sirius inevitably leads to thoughts of him.
In the back of her mind, she considers him.
That first night, she lay on her bed and considered what she might say to him to bring him back, to make amends and repair their romance. Dramatic gestures and tears made up the majority of her plans and as she thinks about it, he really wouldn't have liked something too sappy anyway but she was desperate.
When she woke up in the morning, though, all the school was talking about that party, and all the school was gossiping over him and that… complete slag.
Her heart was promptly shattered into a million pieces.
She deals with the hurt and the pain in the only way she knows how; lashing out at him and trying to transfer all her emotions into him. It's a tried and failed method but she attempts it anyway because the alternative of keeping feelings locked inside isn't an option.
And, though it's stupid, she hopes that if she rails against him enough and gives him enough protest, he'll hear past her anger and rage into her loneliness. She hopes that he'll hear how sad she is and somehow, impossibly, he'll take her back.
She hopes they'll find a way back to each other.
"…No. No, I don't."
"Oh. Then I don't see the point of this discussion."
"Lily, I'm sorry."
"Yeah? Tough luck, James."
He's decided he no longer likes the color red. Or green.
Christmas will be hell this year, that's for sure.
It's a silly thing to decide, but all things of her make his mind ache so the more he separates silly things from his life the easier his world becomes. Pulling apart color is just the slim roots of the whole but it's a start, and any start is good enough because he's never tried anything like this before.
Sure, he's attempted every now and then to forget her, but it was a half-hearted and self-sabotaging attempt. His attempts were those of a reluctant dreamer still with hopes of eventual success and fanciful ideas of that success.
He now knows the sting of success and understands (though he'll admit regret) why holding to her is such a mistake.
He turns and heads back to the castle, hands in his pockets and head bowed in concession.
Two weeks of hell. Now, only two weeks before school was over and he can move on and find a new sort of life, one without her and without all this nonsense. Five years is long enough to carry a torch, and for what? To get smashed to pieces in the end? No, it's better to just let go already.
I don't know why this chapter was so hard for me to write. Probably because, though it's sort of important, I really don't like writing people in agony. I'm really just a softy under all this metal, aren't I? Again, baby grands are not meant to be thrown at heads. I'm looking at you, Jenn.
Thanks to emilyswain (twice, for some reason, but it's all good), NikiJane, Megan, flash photography, and twitchy-raven for reviewing. Next post is tomorrow, please review ^_^
