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Please don't try so hard to say goodbye

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It was six months to the day since Lily had watched as Andrew Bagnold, her abuser, was sent to jail. Three months later he appealed and had been rejected. Minister Bagnold no longer had power, the very shame his son induced upon the his name was enough to allow for him to step down and award the power to his sister, making her the first female Minister for Magic. She, unlike her brother, had a fair and open way of thinking. . .she was a fresh of breath air from the fake, publicity-monger that was her kin.

Lots of things had changed in the young redhead's life, many large factors had been altered; she now attended Auror classes along with James, who had put down his Professional Broom and decided that with the Darker powers on the increase, he'd be better suited to helping fight them. She now lived in her own modest apartment in Diagon Alley, was in the midst of a fragile, yet completely consuming, relationship with James, who neither pushed nor prodded her further than she wanted to go, in any respects. She also had rekindled friendships with Hestia Jones, Kingsley Shacklebolt and many others from her Hogwarts days.

However it was the little things that she revelled in; she woke never aching from being thrown across the room, she didn't flinch if she creaked a floorboard in the hall, no longer feared to sing out loud, could use her own wand and was able to wear whatever she liked. All things she had taken for granted before her train wreck of a relationship with Andrew, all things she'd never abuse again. She felt lucky to be living. Lucky to be where she was, and yes, at night the terrors did sometimes return, and sometimes lapses did occur but James soothed her in these low points, he was helping to heal her; but most importantly, she was trying to heal herself, and for the first time in a long while felt she had an inner fire, that no longer flicked and melted to embers, but a roaring flame that would never be dowsed again.

But, that night happened to be one of her lowest points she had suffered since the trial, and it so happened James was away that night, in his own apartment, in his own bed, his head resting on a pillow that wasn't beside her face. Her face that was pale and almost luminous in the darkened room, beads of sweat streaking her forehead and diamond-like tears clung to her lashes, highlighted in the muted moon's glow. Suddenly she could taste him in her mouth, smell him on sheets, feel his burn, see his eyes piercing her with there gaze, hear his heavy breathing as he rammed himself into her. Suddenly her wrists began to burn and the sensation of rope being there and chafing her skin was almost real, she pulled her arms out from there place under the quilting, where they'd be knotted together; she stretched her fingers in the air in front of her, put her arms up from the bed so they were sticking up in the air and waved them about.

There was nothing there binding her wrists together. No angry welts of where her flesh had been protesting against such hard friction. Suddenly sitting bolt upright she yanked her large shirt over head her hand ran over her neck, her collar bones, her chest, her stomach, her ribs, searching for cuts and abrasions that hadn't been there for months. That hadn't been there since James and Remus had healed them for her. That nightmare had been so real. She was sure she could feel the chocking sensation, the strangulation, the possession he had over her. And yet. . .it was just trickery of the mind. She wondered if he knew of the grief he'd cause her. . .wondered if he knew how much he had broken her? Wondered if he knew that no matter how tightly she sewed up all the tears he had ripped into her soul that the stitches would remain there forever?

Her breathing returned to normal but a dull ache still thumped from her core through her entire body, the sharp pain she'd felt as he'd snapped her barrier of innocence. The violation of her body harsh and unforgiving as it had been was nothing compared to this constant hold he seemed to have over her mind. He was like a twisted puppeteer and her memories, thoughts and feelings, his marionette. Dance, my Darling, Dance she remembered him screaming at her manically as he fire stinging hexes towards her, if she had not been in the terrifying situation she'd have thought someone had been simply watching too many westerns, like ones she'd watched on her Dad's TV every Sunday afternoon. But Andrew had never seen a Muggle movie, never seen a John Wayne classic in order to inspire him, it was all from his spiralling vortex of sadism.

Gulping a large amount of oxygen Lily pushed back the covers and stepped out of the bed, the cool floorboards soothing beneath her bare feet. She was now dressed in only a pair of James' boxers, the flesh of her torso goose pimpled as the cold finally registered on her alabaster skin. She looked exotic and venerable and totally stunning; her face slick with salty waters, her hair ruffled, the green of her eyes more noticeable than ever against the redness of their bloodshot state, her lithe body moving with grace towards the kitchen, the muscles flexing with ever step she took. She was like a panther; powerful, beautiful and savage.

Taking a glass out of the cupboard she filled it with pure orange from the fridge and as she was replacing the glass bottle filled with orange liquid her gaze was hooked onto a slice of pecan pie that was left over from a couple of days before. Taking it out, she grabbed a fork, picked up her drink and sat in the middle of her living room floor. She loved this. It was her space. Her floor. Her pie. Her glass. Her plate. All hers. She didn't have to ask permission or give essay-length explanations as to why she'd sooner sit on the ground than use a chair at the table as she ate.

The sticky, sugary food seemed to warm her, lift her spirits slightly. This was real. This was now. Not the nightmare. That was the past. That was not worth dwelling on -- she'd already lived through it once, and it was not something that needed repetition. She would not let him won. She'd won the battles so far. And she was determined to win the war. Oh yes, she would be victorious.

0x-

When James apparated into his girlfriend's flat that morning he found her not wrapped up in her ivory coloured quilts, as he had expected, but sprawled across her living room carpet; half a cup of orange juice and an empty plate beside her. Her fiery coloured hair extended about her face, her torso naked and clothed in only a pair of boxers, that, he noted with pride, belonged to him. She looked adorably beautiful. Innocently provocative. Or was it simply her innocence and her lack of knowing her sex appeal that did make her so very provocative and inviting? He didn't know. But he did know she was his. . .no not his, she owned herself and allowed him to relish her company, her ambience, her life, her problem, her faults and her perfections.

"Lily. . .Lil-eee" he cooed at her softly from his place where he stood, nonchalantly leaning against the sofa she'd bought from a second hand Muggle shop and transfigured up a bit. Well a lot; it had been patchy and brown and sagging and was now a bright rouge made from leather which was taut and shiny and glamorous. At the sound of his voice she twitched a bit but did not awake.

"Evans wake up!"

"Um? . . .James!" she smiled gleefully from her place on the floor. Stretching up and scratching her head thoughtfully.

"Can I ask why you're half naked on your floor, Lily-bean?"

"I 'spose."

Her chuckled, "so, why, my dear, are you half naked on your floor?"

"Had a nightmare. Got too hot. Needed drink and food. Fell asleep here."

He nodded with understanding, as though it were something people did regularly. He loved how confident she was in her body again, how she hadn't scrambled to her feet and tried to preserve her modesty. He hadn't slept with her, she wasn't ready for that he didn't think. She'd let him know when she was and he would be gentle and loving with her. But she had no problem swanking about the place naked nowadays, or at least half naked, it would appear. Five months ago she yelped and burnt with embarrassment as James had walked in on her changing. But now she appeared to be regaining confidence in her appearance once more. Or perhaps she was merely too tired to cover up.

"Chuck us that shirt, Doll, it's nippy as Hell."

Grinning he threw a shirt which had been hanging over the back of her sofa, it was a large one of his. . .did this woman make it her life's goal to pilfer from him every garment he owned?

She stood and walked towards her partner, wrapping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair. He kissed her lips softly, they tasted still of cinnamon and brown caramelised sugar from whatever she'd been eating, her eyes were sparkling beneath tired, hooded eyes and he noticed the rims of her orbs were stained red and suddenly his mind caught up with what she had said. Taking both her arms from around her neck he held her by her elbows at arms length away from him, so he could look at her face properly.

"You had a nightmare, you say?"

Lily sighed.

"Why didn't you floo me, or apparate over?"

"Look, James, I need to deal with it sometimes alone; you're a great crutch when I get like I did last night, and I appreciate it, but I went through it alone - no don't get that look, you shouldn't feel guilty because of what I went through - I'm not trying to make you feel bad, but I will state the truth; I went through it alone and it broke me, now have the help of you and my friends around it won't break me again, but I do need to sometimes confront my own fears; I will not be a slave to his hold over me anymore. And if I always have to run to someone each time he invades my thoughts it means he's handicapping my even now! Can't even sleep the night alone because of him? I think not.

Besides, last night was good for me. I calmed myself down, walked away from the fear, separated myself from the terror, and came out of it fine. And I'm not feeling like I'm going to have a bad day again, like I normally do after having those visions, in fact I feel stronger than I have done in such a long time. I do, indeed love you James, so very much, in fact I find myself very much so in love with you once more - though I don't think I really stopped, per se. . .my heart and my wits just got misplaced for a while."

James smiled sadly at her, "Love you too, Lily-bird."

He knew what she was saying was correct, but he hated that she'd spent a year in Hell and he'd known nothing about it, Merlin, he'd even raged about her during that time, screaming to his walls of how she left him, broke him so he'd never love another, and cursed at how very happy she was with her new, perfect little rich boy. But now he felt a little powerless, she was right, sometimes fear must be faced alone or you'll never overcome it. . .but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"I'm just gonna go get ready, Hon, make us a cuppa, yeah?" she grinned and lightly kissed him on the cheek as she wandered back to her bedroom.

"Oi, Da Vinci! Don't forget we're decorating my bedroom today." yelled the dark haired male from his position in front of the stove, where he was attempting to balance a large steel pot in order to boil some water.

"Aye." came the muffled response.

Ten minutes later the redhead emerged, denim drainpipes in place, he was sure they were Muggle fashion from about twenty years back, and a black strappy top that was already littered with paint smudges, she'd worn the same haggard outfit while decorating her own accommodation and still managed to make all other beauty turn pale and unimportant to James. Her face sported no make up just a slick of peach scented lip balm and her hair had only been brushed once and knotted with a quill at the nape of her neck. She smelt of cherries, peach, passion fruit, and something that was simply Lily.

0x-

Lily stretched backwards, arching her spine and she felt her back crack. It was a satisfying sort of sound along with the feeling it bought. She had been painting the room for three hours, drank two cups of coffee, and sang loudly over the wire less, most of the time lyrics that were all wrong, but insisting her version was much better, - saying that "my lust bought me a tart" was much better than "I must have bought me a heart" . . .James was inclined to agree, simply because he was ever so slightly enamoured with the redhead that was currently slopping red and cream paint on his walls.

"You've got paint all over you arms." smirked James, as the two stood in the middle of his room, where his bed would have been situated had he not shrunk all his furniture and carried out of the room in order to decorate, he attempted to scrub a mark from her arm, however was quite unsuccessful as the it would appear the paint had seen fit to dry and be stubborn.

"You're supposed to be admiring how wonderful your walls look not pick at my arms!"

"I think you got more paint on you than you did the walls, to be honest" he stuck his tongue out at the shorter redhead.

"Yeah, well, true artistes cannot limit there work to one canvas!"

"Sure, whatever you say, Lily-Beans."

She growled, raised her hand which luckily still clutched her paint brush and painted a stripe right down the side of James' cheek. "See. . .my art must spread."

"Oh aye?" he responded calmly, before promptly tackling her to the ground.

His legs were either side of her torso, pinning her in place with his knees either side of the red head, reaching over to his left, his hand enclosed around he paint brush with red colouring on it and splodged to great red dots on her cheeks - "bit of blusher!" was his explanation. Role reversal was suddenly taken and James - to much protesting though not an awful amount - found himself stuck underneath his girlfriend who was currently decorating his shirt with swirling designs, cackling as she did so. Pushing her off he flicked his paintbrush at her, splattering her face and arms with speckles of red.

She let out a squeal of mirth.

"Loser!"

"Oh, Miss Lily, I'm just being artistic!"

"Some just don't have what it takes!" she quipped back, leaning against the bedroom door, the only dry surface, apart from the floor and ceiling, in the enclosure.

"Oh really?" his voice seemed to have dropped to a baritone level, gravelley and hoarse, Lily's skin flaring to life, wanting him to touch her desperately. Needing to feel his breath caress her flesh, to lull her lips into a dance of want, need and love. His hand landed either side of her shoulders, the door closed completely and the two fell back a couple of inches; the jolt was enough to push James forward and his mouth advanced upon hers. Lily's soft pink lips were malleable and at the mercy of James'. He had the ability to make her forget everything in the world around her; every bad experience and every scar seemed unimportant and a lifetime away when he kissed her.

Still connected in a slow, sensual lock at the lips, Lily took his hand and slowly edged him back to the middle of the room, where James' bed usually lay, and pushed him to gently to the ground, toppling over with him; James' eyes widened for a second then he relaxed in to the kiss once more, Lily Evans he had known before Andrew was returning, the Lily who wasn't afraid to take control of him in these situations. She moved her jean clad thighs so that they were either side of his groin and straddled him, at this point she also broke the kiss and sat upright, perpendicular to the black haired male.

"James, make love to me." it wasn't a question. Her voice was strong, direct and teaming with passion and lust. He didn't need to question whether she was sure, but he knew one thing for certain, this was going to be gentle and loving, he didn't want to harm her further, or trigger old memories. But Lily seemed to be taking the imitative. Pulling off her black t-shirt, she revealed her gold coloured bra, that appeared to be made of satin and iced with a thin streak of golden beige lace; her adept fingers slipped around the back of her torso and a second later her chest was revealed to the room, and of course, to James.

Gently his hand traced the lines of her abdomen, the fullness of her breast, the erection of her rose bud tinted nipples. Her skin was so very pale, so creamy and soft. She smelt wonderful and womanly, fruity and heady and somewhere in the back of his mind, he supposed he registered the paint fumes lingering, but that didn't matter, nothing did except that Lily was here and wanting him. She stood, taking the pressure off of his groin, where he had been struggling to control himself anyway, and she peeled off her drainpipes, then saw to it that her maroon coloured pants were also slid down her shapely legs.

She stood naked and wanton before him, and it really was more than he could take. A swish of his wand and the paint cloths, pots and brushes around him magically changed into large, white cushions that were soft and littering the ground, no candlelight burned in the house, only the dying embers of the sun, which was streaking in through the window, the orange, red and pink staining the newly painted cream walls and presenting Lily with an almost tribal air to her, a fiery goddess that was giving herself to a mortal, a sacrifice was all he was now; but James had a feeling that the burn would be a good one.

0x-

Both knelt before each other, both naked, both silhouetted against the magnificent sunset. Lily's red hair seemed to form a glowing halo, of sorts, framing her beautiful face, her large green eyes wide with curiosity, need and love. James reached out his hand and placed at the top of her forehead, with a gentle pressure he slid it down her body; over her nose, tracing the pout of her lips, down onto her neck, the gentle bump of collar bones, the valley between her bosom, the soft skin of her stomach, the red curls of her sex and finally down her let thigh.

"Merlin, you are so beautiful."

And so it commenced.

Gentle and loving, James' soft touches everywhere feather light and cool, like a breeze when there had been too much heat; like a calm after a storm, like exquisite pleasure of making love after burning, sadistic rape. James after Andrew. Good that had conquered the bad. Morning after the night. His touch was not cold, but it was soothing and cooling. Summer rain and the feeling of burying your feet in the hot sand, once you get past the crumbly, too hot crust, you delve into the damp substance and it's like a retreat, an action that cause a soft sigh of content.

Lily was gently laid down and James crawled above her. Her beautiful locks clashed marvellously with the white of the many just-conjured pillows, tendrils of red fanning out along the floor. James positions himself at her entrance, waiting for her to stop him, waiting for her to tell him she wasn't quite ready, but instead e met a defiant emerald gaze, "you won't break me, James, I promise." and thinking how strange it was to hear Lily, who although she technically wasn't, was still as good as a virgin, reassuring him that he would cause no pain to her; surely it should have been vice versa.

And slowly, agonizingly, both became one. Connected in a way that only lovers find, joined in a ceremony that needed nothing but themselves to conduct. It sent shivers up Lily's spine, goose bumps littered her arms and legs. The rhythm was deliberate, leisurely and constant. Lily's moans and mewls were like a sweet song to his ears, and caused him to dance to the beat she was setting. A little faster, a little deeper, a little more pressure. All the time her fingers tracing his every outline, her digits, seemed to making a recollection of were his every bump and angle lay.

It was pure and it was beauty. No carnal lust would been slaked tonight, this was all about Lily and James; a man and a woman in love, a woman who was healing herself, a man assisting her, a woman so perfect, a man so perfect for her; both meaning more to the world than they would probably ever know, both with a destiny greater than either wanted or thought of.

The tension had been building in her stomach, in her head, in her core. Eventually they moving in a rhythm that was strong and hard, but not hard enough so that it could cause uncomfortable pain, her shrieks and calls, became louder, more frivolous, his breathing more laboured, short pants, his grunts, his worship of her name. His appreciation of her.

And in one sudden motion the climax came, both riding it out until all waves of pleasure had subsided. James lay now beside Lily, watching her face; it was calm, and yet alive more so than he'd ever seen it, her eyes contained excitement, and wonder and lust, her body was covered in a film of sweat and she smelt of him, the air around them smelling sex.

His fingers laced with her red hair and he twisted it around his long digits, knowing it soothed her.

Silence rang for an age, neither spoke, neither needed to. Lily took the potion, so no talk of their lack of contraception took place, no fear of Lily becoming impregnated, which at this time in their life, neither wanted.

"James?"

"Yeah. . .?" did she regret it? Was she mad that she let him go so far and he never stopped it? Her voice was so careful, so meticulous as she had sounded out his name.

"Will you marry me?"

He lay there stunned. His hazel eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Had she really just asked that? Maybe it meant generally would he ever marry her. .maybe she wasn't proposing. . .but, maybe she was. . .and if so he's actually the luckiest bastard alive right now. . .

"Will you marry me though, Lily?"

"Hey!" her voice went childish and petulant, "I asked first." she was sitting up now, leaning on her hand for support.

He grinned. "Oh, go on then"

She smiled, then her smile became a giggle and she found herself lying beside James once more, grinning so widely she was sure it was going to break her face in two.

0x-

Hours later, Lily still lay awake next to her fiancé, listening to her soft breathing and the steady beat of his heart, he'd been asleep for a while now, but the redhead simply could not fall into a slumber; she was in a haze of drowsiness, so many thoughts rushing through her mind, so many feelings from the day being recaptured by her and held onto.

James was perfect for, and to, her. She traced little designs on his skin, wrote words none would ever see with her finger on his arm, wrote her promises to him, and forever they would burn there, unknown, unseen and all so very truthful and heartfelt. Most other men, she knew, may have given up on her, but then, most women would have given up and stayed with Andrew too; she was strong, and she knew it, she was clever, and a beautiful and worth everything in the world to at least one person. Everything that monster had told had been shit, all of it. She was the victim but Andrew had really been her slave all along, she just hadn't realised it. Without the fear he was nothing. He was like a Boggart, with nothing to feed on there was nothing he could do to frighten her.

Memories came and went, feelings appeared but dispersed as soon as she took control, or when James was there to fight away demons. Said man mumbled in his sleep, curling his arm around her slender waist and pulled her into his warmth, his embrace. He was good at that, it seemed, bring Lily back to where she needed to be. And no, of course their relationship wasn't about to be perfect, she wasn't foolish or naive enough to think that their partnership could go along without hitches, after all Lily still had problems, James still had faults, both were still human.

Andrew had near broken her, at the time she, and he probably too, thought he had succeed in shattering her but all they had been were wounds, deep and painful, and she knew the wounds would heal, however she also knew the scars would never fade. But scars aren't always bad, Dumbledore told her that when she had received a scar during her Hogwarts time on her leg, that he would not remove it for her even if he could, after all scars can be quite important. . .

James awoke, his eyes still very heavy with sleep, leaning towards her, he kissed her forehead, his lips warm and soft, and then snuggled her closer still; it was then that Lily realised she had never felt more safe, more beautiful and, in James' embrace, more loved.

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And she will be loved
She will be loved

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Author's Note: Well. That's that.

All done and dusted.

Bizarre feeling, coming to the end of a fic.

But I am going to do a four part sequel to this, called Rooftops & Invitations, all chapters inspired by a favourite group of mine, Dashboard Confessional.

Smile.

I love the reactions this invoked from so many of you, and if you've been a silent reader, please leave a review for the final chapter, I'd love to know actually who of you were reading and what you thought to it and ect ect.

It was honestly so lovely reading all the wonderful things you people wrote about my work.

My writing style has vastly improved too, and my confidence grown also.

So, thank you for coming on this journey with me, and look out for Rooftops & Invitations

I will post the beta'd version of the chapter when it is given to me.

Loves to you all,

Tasha x