Hi there everyone. I do realize that this chapter is technically a day late, as I promised in most of my replies that it would be posted Saturday. However as you will see, I got little IN to this chapter, and it kind of grew and grew until suddenly it was over ten thousand words long, *sigh*. I do hope it's enough to excuse the lateness lol. :)
This is the chapter quite a lot of people have been looking forward to, the meeting between MJ and James and the ear thrashing it entails. In the end however it ended up being a little sadder and (to me anyway) more moving than I originally meant it to be, but it seemed to be a good thing rather than a bad thing, so I let it stay that way.
What else to say? Not a lot lol, because most of you are probably already wishing for me to stop babbling so you can read in peace, and therefore I shall shut up with one last heartfelt plea :).
PLEASE!!!! Read and Review!!! You may have noticed but the number of reviews is wonderfully close to 200 hundred and quite frankly, I can't wait to pass that milestone. In other words review and I will write ten times faster lol. Really. ;)
All Over Again: Chapter 10
Right, that was it, the gargoyle was definitely pushing his luck now. The dark haired boy glared at the ugly, stone face whose features were arranged into an expression of smugness that the mason DEFINITELY hadn't intended, all those centuries ago. James turned his brooding eyes to continue their interrupted scrutiny of the stone floor, vengeful plans of everlasting graffiti and Poirot moustaches swimming vaguely through the part of his mind that wasn't concentrating on the rather more important problem of the meeting awaiting him.
He looked once more at his gold watch and snorted, when a movement caught his eye. He spun round, speechless with anger as the gargoyle blocking his path winked from his crouch that was now angled to more comfortably observe the seventeen year old, who had been waiting, teeth clenched in impatient fury, for the last fifteen minutes. A great smile of unmistakable mockery curved those beak-like lips, and the sight of yet another person using his trademark smirk against him, pushed him finally over the edge. James' mahogany wand was in his hand and the reductio spell on his lips, when the gargoyle said in a voice filled impartially with boredom and smugness
"You can go up now."
It moved aside, smirk still wide and irritating and James hesitated noticeably before shoving his wand back into his pocket with a snarl and making his way up the stone steps, swearwords and curses echoing darkly of the stonewalls, right up to the moment when he stood outside the door to the Headmasters office. Unfortunately for him, this meeting would be far more unpleasant than the one due with Professor Dumbledore later that day.
The great James Potter swallowed with a nervousness he would never have allowed himself in public, before lifting a slightly shaking hand to knock with forced determination on the thick slab of oak.
There was no call to come in, but the door swung slowly open with a tired creak and James took a moment to calm his rather heavy breathing and unclench both his fists and his jaw. Then the smirk.
He took the four steps forward into the room and paused on the threshold, face a mask of casual calm as he surveyed the large disorderly room in a brief glance, before focusing on the figure behind the oak desk that stood in the centre of the bazar.
MJ was reading what looked to be a long letter written in black ink, and although James cleared his throat quite loudly, her coal eyes continued to peruse the page; she neither looked up nor betrayed by even the smallest sign that she had even noticed his entrance. James waited, feeling his temper rising as she stared thoughtfully into space somewhere above his head, before continuing to read with maddening slowness. He set his teeth once more and resigned himself to the pointed snub.
Two endless minutes later, James' mother's eyes flashed suddenly to his and, for the first time, she spoke.
"Assis-toi."
The voice was sharp and cutting but otherwise emotionless. James felt his anger rise in response and replied just as coldly.
"I'd rather stand, thanks." He watched his mother's eyes narrow at his triple refusal, not to sit, not to speak in their more customary French, and not to allow her to dictate the rules of the meeting.
"As you wish." MJ answered in kind and sat back in Dumbledore's chair, surveying her son with forced calm. He was on the defence she noted, hidden behind a mask of iron determination. He didn't get that from her and MJ felt a pang as she recognised the expression that she had hoped to never see again. She ignored it and the inescapable fear and worry that suddenly grasped her, was pushed roughly to one side. Focus. Think of what he's done. The anger, the disgust and the disappointment. It gave her strength.
Drawing on that strength, she opened her mouth to unleash the tirade she'd been storing up for almost three weeks, a speech that would tear her son's character, education, and deportment to shreds and crush him under the rain of blows.
But he cut across her, and the unexpected cheek of his comment stunned her for a moment, before her eyes flashed in anger that suddenly grew from a spark to a burning tower of flames.
"I would have been here at ten as you asked me, but apparently Lily isn't the only one you've been teaching to be obnoxious." The comment burst from between his lips, before a moment later, he winced at his stupidity, and MJ could see just how much he regretted the childish outburst. It had been provoked by pain and jealousy but nevertheless, hearing him speak the name of the girl he'd tortured to breaking point, made MJ rise from her seat, like a goddess in her suddenly volcanic fury.
"James. Henry. POTTER! How DARE you! How dare you even speak that child's name after what you've done. Never in my entire life have I ever been so disgusted and ashamed of having brought you into the world. I wiped your arse, I changed your diapers, I even taught you everything I ever knew in Quidditch, duelling, spell casting, only to find out from my student that all of it was for an arrogant, cruel batard who has abused every gift ever given him! Do you have any, ANY idea how I felt when this girl poured out her heart to me, crying her eyes out over this…this…enculé who didn't even deserve to breath the same air as her, knowing that that lowlife, that evil twisted being, was my SON!!"
Her son winced under blow after blow that his mother threw at him in a voice rising louder and angrier with every word she spoke, until her last accusation made him look up.
She watched open his mouth, brows lowered in a frown of incomprehension as he made to question her, before his eyes widened and stared at her in stunned indignation. She waited coldly for him to dare call either her or Lily a liar, when he surprised her by remaining silent. He shut his mouth firmly and looked at her, eyes suddenly blank, the anger and hurt that had burned in them, now suddenly vanished into nothing.
It puzzled her. What had he been about to say? That it wasn't true? That he hadn't tortured the pretty redhead constantly for the past eight months? Preposterous; even Sirius hadn't denied it when she'd demanded of him if what the girl had said was true. His affirmative answer had stunned and sickened her.
She continued to glare at him, her furious gaze daring him to deny his disgusting, appalling behaviour, whilst half of her yearned for him to do so. She compromised.
"Give me one reason, James Potter, why I shouldn't call your father and have him disown, disinherit you and throw you out of this family right now."
She waited for his answer with furious impatience, praying that somehow there HAD been a cause, at least a reason, for him to hate her and hurt her so badly. She needed so much to hear him tell her that it wasn't what it sounded like, that somehow, in some small way, Lily had deserved his tormenting treatment. She wanted him to yell and scream and cry that it wasn't true, that she'd misjudged him, that she didn't know the whole story. That there had been more, much more to it than simply breaking the girls heart and sending the rest of her the same way.
But he didn't. He stood their like statue, beautiful and tall and so young, and MJ realised just how long it had been since she'd really seen him. Not for over a year in truth, he'd returned at the end of sixth year, only to leave for France the next day. Had he already been like this, she found herself wondering. Had he already changed from the laughing, mischievous boy she loved more than anything in the world, to this cold, emotionless figure before her. He spoke, softly and emotionlessly, and the words confirmed her worst nightmares.
"There isn't one."
MJ closed her eyes fighting the pain and disappointment that threatened to crush her. Then more softly.
"I'm sorry, m'man."
She looked up at him and felt the pang as his eyes fixed on hers, worried and filled with shame. They were so like Henry's. HE was so like Henry, and the thought almost made her cry out.
She pulled herself together, shaking her ebony head to rid her eyes of the ridiculous tears that were threatening to escape her closed lids. She had to be strong, she had fought indifference and coldness before. She would do it again. No matter how hard it was when the memories threatened to pull her under. And James, James didn't know, couldn't know. Which was why he was confused and scared even by the weakness suddenly apparent in his indomitable mother's slumped shoulders and clenched hands?
MJ met his hazel eyes, allowing only anger and disappointment to show in her own. His own face tensed, the emotions were once more carefully hidden behind that mask of stone; he waited, unflinching, for the verdict.
"Professor Dumbledore has seen fit to beg on your behalf, for a second chance to redeem yourself. He has explained to me that this chance is to be in the form of a test, a test of your maturity in giving you this position as head boy. From what he has told me, your actions on the train have encouraged him to be quietly confident that this experiment will succeed. He deems it an impressive beginning on your new, clean slate, not only in regards to defending most heroically your fellow students, but more importantly to working so admirably well with your fellow Head Lily Evans, despite your past. Though personally I feel that Miss Evans is perhaps more to be congratulated than you, James."
She took a deep breath, firmly in control and still disapproving.
"For now, I will respect Albus' decision to grant you this possibility to show us that you are not the person you were last year. But I'm telling you now, James; one word of any, ANY, problems from Lily and I swear you will be out of my house faster than you can say 'sorry'."
There was a silence, before James bent his head in one brief, swift movement. He raised his eyes once more to his mothers face and waited; the anger there was almost gone but the hesitation lingered; she obviously had more to say.
"Very well. Moving on, your father has informed me that you passed your auror training exam with a one hundred percent pass grade. It that regards at least, you have not disappointed me. You should be proud."
Another nod, accompanied with the barest softening of that dark passionless gaze.
"The presentation of your diploma as well your official introduction will take place during the Christmas holidays, at the annual Ministry Ball that coincidently enough shall this year take place chez nous."
MJ was pleased to see that this information finally provoked a reaction from her son, if only a faint raising of those black brows. She continued, a spark of pride warming her voice.
"The other nine students admitted to the training will of course be present, including the four that did not make the grade. You will all be presented together to the Head of the Auror department…" MJ scowled as a hint of a smirk touched her sons lips, and she raised a cold eyebrow at him in distain.
"You WILL do everything that is expected of you, James Potter, and you will be everything that is humble and respectful during your presentation, despite the fact that he is your father. Any hint that you are not taking this seriously and I will rethink my decision to refrain from informing him of the real reason behind your appointment as Head Boy."
James' wince made her sigh inwardly. They both knew that MJ's highly vocal anger would be nothing to Henry Potter's icy, unspoken disgust and disappointment in the son that resembled him so closely.
Their eyes met briefly in understanding, and Moniqua brought the rather one-sided discussion back to the subject in hand.
"Lily, of course will also be present…" The answering silence was suddenly ten degrees colder and MJ hesitated as her son's face became once more that emotionless mask.
"As the only female to succeed, and the student who gained the second highest marks after yourself, she will be the subject of an enormous amount of interest and speculation. Almost as much as you, James. You, however have been attending these functions for the last five years; Lily, on the other hand, has never been exposed to this kind of test. I must ask you, James, to put your differences with her aside. As a muggle born in a world where pure wizarding blood is still so highly prized, she will need all the help she can get."
"Her darling Sirius will be all to willing to assist her, I'm sure. As will you m'man, am I right? James spoke for the first time in the past twenty minutes, cold and expressionless. There was no hint of the bitterness the words seemed to imply.
MJ sighed, looking sadly at her son, recognising the childish hint of jealousy he was so carefully trying to hide from her. He never used to do so; they would talk about anything, always honest, always direct. To see him so cold and withdrawn as he fenced with her, it was painful.
"Yes James. As always you are right, I do care about her , very much…"
He cut her off, and threw her a look of anger, hurt burning in those hazel eyes.
"So much that you taught her your new spell? The one you told me was too dangerous? That I was too young, too inexperienced to attempt it? The one that you said you'd probably never even submit for testing anyway. But Lily knew it, didn't m'man. She wasn't too weak, was she? Do you know what it felt like? To hear it on her lips? Not just to see her use wandless magic, m'man, but THAT spell? Right before my eyes? The one spell you told me I wasn't strong enough to use, you taught it to her… »
"James,.."
"No. It doesn't matter." The anger was gone, as suddenly as it had come. The mask was back on, her son replaced by this cold, harsh young man who MJ recognised only too well. The outburst was over, he had mastered himself and his emotions that would have made her proud if she'd been the one to teach him. But it had always been Henry's greatest skill. And James had acquired it, adopted it more like, and the sight of that harsh, merciless mask of stone she hated so badly, on his beautiful face, made her hands shake.
She took a heavy breath before answering once more, but his eyes were staring into space, she wasn't even sure if the words would reach him in that deserted polar region he had banished himself to.
"James, I taught it to her because she has a natural bent for healing. Far more than you or I. In another lifetime, Lily would never have been an auror; healing is her heart's calling, not fighting, and she could do far more with that spell than you or even I ever could. Her very nature, her ability to love without question and without judgement, the kindness that sets her apart; the spell was made for her, and she for it. That doesn't make her better than you, James. If anything, it makes her weaker as an auror. Only over time will she be able to acquire the cynicism, the 'kill or be killed' mentality that an auror needs."
"So you're saying I have the nature of a killer." The words bit deep despite their lack of any feeling, and MJ frowned in exasperation as she tried to make him understand.
"No James, I'm saying you are willing to do anything to protect people weaker than yourself, especially those you love. You're a leader, making the hard choice is what you do. It's something you inherited from your father, not me, but it's what makes both of you a person that people believe in, somebody whom people will follow into the gates of hell and back again. Because you will be strong for the world. Even if it kills you and people you care about. You are somebody who will make a difference, James, somebody who may just turn the tide of this war. Somebody people will love and hate in equal measure, but will never, ever be able to ignore."
The last words were a whisper, sad and soft with love and pride.
"You're destined for greatness, James; you were born to be a hero, a symbol of hope in this time of darkness. But more than any of this you are my son. And Lily will never, ever, replace you in my heart."
James finally lifted his dark head to look at her, and opened his mouth as if to say something, eyes suddenly filled with a pain that shocked MJ to the core. She stepped closer to him, and reached out a cold hand to touch his rough cheek; brown on brown, she searched his face for the cause.
"Talk to me James. You could always talk to me. What is this thing that's tearing you apart?"
For a single moment hazel met black, and he was the boy that had once come running to her, holding back rebellious tears as he showed her the arm that was hanging at an odd painful angle, after a fall of fifty feet from his broomstick. She'd shushed him, and proudly stroked his tear-free cheek as she'd healed the broken forearm. Back then, his bravery had been adorable, and she'd smiled lovingly at the seven year-old boy's fierce protesting when she'd offered to kiss it better. He'd told her scornfully that he was a big boy now, only baby's got kissed by their Mummy's. But he'd still stayed in her lap as he told her about the goal he'd scored just before falling, hazel eyes no longer full of pain, but shining with youth's excitement and resilience.
It hurt so much more now, as she watched him push back the agony, eyes hardening until she almost didn't recognise the man in front of her. He was a big boy once more, and never again would he come to her, knowing with youth's innocence, that she could make it all better. The knowledge that he was so close to adulthood made the familiar panic rise once more in her chest. She was running out of excuses now. Soon the day would come when he would have to know. She could no longer hide her baby from the pain of reality, no longer convince herself that he deserved more time in which to be free and happy and untroubled. More time to be the child that she still thought him as. The child that she could no longer truthfully call him.
As if in answer to her thoughts, he sighed soundlessly, and took her hands in a gentle loving grasp, eyes suddenly fierce.
"Pardonne-moi, m'man. Mais cette fois, tu ne peux pas m'aider."
MJ closed her eyes as he gently touched his lips to the middle of her forehead. Then he drew back, and she turned away. They were two adults once more, he possibly the more-so of the two. The grief MJ silently felt for the little boy that would kiss just so, every night after story time, it was pushed firmly away, and no hint of it showed in her dark eyes as she turned back to her son.
"Professor Dumbledore asked me to tell you that your Head Dormitories and Common Room are now available for your use. Lily should be waiting down below, so you may both go and discover them for yourselves, before commencing your lessons this afternoon. Albus mentioned that you would probably need no directions, but the password is 'Erised'."
James nodded, mask now firmly back in place. MJ took one last look at him; Christmas was horribly far away. For one last time she feasted her coal eyes on his tall frame, his dark beautiful face and those eyes that sometimes were frighteningly like those of another boy she'd once known. With that last burning gaze, she engraved it all into her memory, so she could keep that image of him with her throughout the long dangerous months that would pass before she would see him once more.
"I love you James. Goodbye, my son."
His eyes closed briefly and his answer was short and soft before he turned and walked out the door.
"Moi aussi, m'man. À jamais."
She was still standing there, staring at the door, when the tall thin figure came quietly into the room from the second door that led to the Headmaster's private chambers. She didn't look away, not even when the grey-haired man placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of her powder blue jacket, offering some small, tactful comfort to his former student and Head Girl. Gaining no response, he moved quietly and unobtrusively to the far side of the desk and sat down, surveying his hands as the long fingers touched at the tips to make a kind of bridge in front of his bushy brows.
It was some five minutes later when MJ finally stirred, meeting Dumbledore's eyes with an apology in her own. He smiled gently at her, indicating the chair beside her in an offer to listen if she needed. She sat, but made no movement to speak, and he didn't break the sad silence. The wise Professor waited patiently for his former student to decide whether she would confide her worries to him, as she had done so many times before. Finally she spoke, the words sad and self-hating.
"I should have known, should have been there to know. But I wasn't."
"You save a hundred lives a week MJ. I do not think it is fair for you to blame yourself."
"His face Albus. To see that look in his eyes…that expression…after thirty odd years… You have no idea how it's haunted me…and to see it on James' face…" Her voice was strained as she relived the memory, panic in her black eyes until Dumbledore reached across the desk to lightly grasp her arm.
"He is not Henry, MJ.
"His face…it was identical, Albus…etched in stone, cold and lost and merciless. I'd prayed that I would never see it again. And then to see James… They're so alike Dumbledore; the same strength, same genius, the same blood running through their veins. Pure wizarding untainted blood. He'll want it Albus. Now more than ever. My James…"
"He is not Henry. James is the son of two parents, MJ. Two. He is as much yours as Henry's. And not just in the fact that Henry would rather eat one of Hagrid's rock cakes, than sit on a broomstick."
The small chuckle made Dumbledore's eyes twinkle back at the dark-haired woman, before continuing.
"He is very much like his father certainly, and you should be proud of that; Henry Potter is a name that will go down in history for his bravery and strength as he pulled the wizarding population through this war. But it is your charm MJ, your humour and your smile, that wins the hearts of the entire Hogwarts population, students and teachers alike. Just as it is your hunger and passion that burn in his eyes and his heart. And may I add, that his rather remarkable temper certainly did not come from Henry either."
A laugh this time, escaping through those worried lips to echo around the room, lightening the heavy atmosphere. She smiled at her former Headmaster and now trusted friend, as she acknowledged the hit. But the smile vanished at Dumbledore's next words.
"He is exceptional MJ, and he no longer a child. He needs to be told."
Moniqua's eyes hardened and her jaw set, as the old argument was once more initiated.
"You cannot hide this from him forever. You and Henry have been lucky, thanks in a huge part to your own exceptional skills. But luck will one day run out. And you MJ, it is not your loyalty that he desires; it is your death. James needs to be warned. You came to me for help all those years ago, both of you, and for those eighteen years your luck has held. But Lord Voldemort grows stronger every day MJ, and he has not forgotten."
MJ let out a ragged breath as she turned to the thin grey-haired man behind the desk, and her voice was weary as she answered.
"I'll tell him when he turns eighteen. The day after his birthday, I'll tell him everything. But I must let him have these last, small months, Albus. These final months of peace."
The matter was obviously closed, and Dumbledore bowed his grey head in acceptance, suppressing the dread in his heart. The goodbyes were short, but even after his guest departure, Dumbledore sat behind the oak desk for many minutes, gazing into the fire with eyes that for once were without a twinkle.
Jame's mind was swirling with too many emotions to name, as he descended the stone spiral staircase. As expected, the meeting had been horribly painful; seeing that look of disappointment in his mum's eyes, however expected it had been, it was… James shuddered inwardly. He wouldn't see her again before Christmas either. Another four months before he'd get maybe a couple of days of her time, they might even be all together for Christmas this year. Then again, maybe not. It hurt. Badly.
However much James tried to hide it, he adored his mother and respected her as he respected no one else in the world. Growing up, she'd been his idol, not only for her talent on a Quidditch pitch, but in everything; her charm, the way she could light up a room with a single smile; the impatience and impulsiveness she'd passed on to him that had so often made his dad shake his head in exasperation. He loved her so much, but had long resigned himself to the fact that she wasn't and never would be, just his mother.
Being the son of two such gifted people had it's downsides too; forget siblings, James had had to deal early on with the fact that the rest of the wizarding community had a claim on his parents attention. Usually a larger claim than his.
James sighed. That wasn't fair. They'd always made the effort to be there for him, his mother had still came to every one of his Quidditch matches and his father had never missed their weekend training sessions. He was lucky, far luckier than a lot of pureblood children, who maybe met their parents five times a year. But the goodbyes still stung, as this one was stinging now.
Distraction came as he descended the last of the steps, albeit an unwelcome one. Seeing her there, standing so innocently, it suddenly reminded him of the lies she had told, and how he'd lied for the bitch, lied to his own mother to keep the redhead's secret. The unfairness made his blood boil and there was an ugly look in his hazel eyes as he glared at her, lower lip curling in disgust as he thought of their short camaraderie the day before, and how he'd almost thought about forgiving her, simply to have her back. Then to find out she'd lied like that; cried out some pathetic, sad, sob story about how HE'D broken HER heart. The nerve of the bitch! His hands were suddenly shaking and he turned away before he gave in to his sudden need to hit something.
Lily had barely been able to keep still as she'd heard his heavy footfall on the stone staircase. She hadn't seen him since that one last glimpse as she'd climbed up the stairs to the Gryffindor Girls dormitory with Emily, Jenny and Alice. Seeing her three friends again at the feast, it had been better than anything in the world. The girls had stared in stunned joy at the sight of their once broken friend, who now laughed so mischievously at them from across the table. The whole of the feast, Lily had barely been able to escape the questions and the stories for long enough to even glance at the boys sitting at the other end of the table. The Marauders were obscured entirely from view by the thirty or so girls that were pushing and squabbling in the desire to gain and hold their idol's attentions.
The fierce jealous clench in Lily's stomach had been firmly repressed and she'd succeeded in refusing to let her eyes flicker over to the noisy group, throughout the entire feast. Her friend's stories had helped enormously in keeping her mind occupied and away from a certain shaggy-headed Maruader.
Alice had led the discussion with squeals of excitement of how Frank had mentioned the M word, in front of his mother too, and her description of the famous Dragon and her reaction, had kept the girls talking animatedly for almost an hour. Alice was ecstatic, her friends were stunned before the words sunk in and they gasped and congratulated the round-faced blond with the widest smiles ever seen. The merits of blue bridesmaid's dresses over green ones were solemnly discussed, as was the question of what the ring would look like and the girls squabbled good-naturedly over who would be named Godmother of the couple's first child.
Emily was next, wickedly winding her friends up with long descriptions of the male actor's in her mum's new drama, right down to things that made Alice blush furiously, with Jenny avidly demanded more details. Talk of Keith and Jesse and ahhhh…DAVID, carried through to dessert, when the sight of the rather coincidentally named « Spotted Dick », made all four girls collapse in helpless giggles.
The Head rooms would not be available till the following day, Professor McGonagall had informed Lily, as she'd told her the password to the Gryffindor Common Room, which had suited Lily perfectly. The night had been spent laughing and joking as the four friends made the most of their first night together for two months. Lily's and Jenny's holidays had been discussed only briefly; Jenny had declared the whole thing had been a complete waste of time, as her fair skin had refused to tan or even burn, she'd snorted with mock disgust. Lily had mentioned briefly that working at Florean's Ice Cream Parlour had been fun, that Sirius had been to visit almost every day and she's had enough money to finally be able to splash out on an entire new wardrobe. Only Emily had seemed a little suspicious of this brief explanation for the red-head's sudden confidence, but she'd stayed silent, and Lily had been thankful. Moniqua, or MJ as she should really call her, had told her to, if possible, avoid any mention of the auror training she'd undergone, at least for the time being.
All in all it had been a brilliant night, apart from one thing. Since the moment she'd woken up this morning, Lily had been unable to rid herself of the strange mixture of horror and excitement at the thought that from now on, she'd be living with the boy who she both loved and loathed. The need to see him had grown exponentially as she waited, eyes slightly panicked, for the messy-haired boy to descend the stone steps that led up to the Headmaster's office.
It was worse than ever now, she reflected ruefully, the short taste of partnership from the day before stubbornly refused to leave her thoughts, and she found herself wondering, hoping, praying that maybe, just maybe, that partnership would be the first step towards something more.
During the holidays, Lily had confronted the fact that despite all her efforts, her heart still stubbornly continued to beat for the breathtakingly gorgeous arsehole who had broken her heart. Denying it, as she'd found, was futile. Just being near him made her pulse leap into overdrive and the need, the desire for him, was now a recognised feeling, ever-present under her skin and in her fingertips that ached constantly to touch him.
He had hurt her and she hated him for it, but she had finally reconciled herself to the fact that he if ever offered, she would be horribly tempted to allow him to do so all over again, because having him so close aand at the same time, not having him, it was worse than any torture Voldemort could inflict upon her.
His foot suddenly appearing on the top step of her view point, yanking out of her daydreams with a start, and a moment later, his mere presence was already causing her body to respond. She lent back against the wall, arms folded as she waited, the position carefully chosen to disguise her trembling knees and shaking hands. His legs came into view next, followed by his crutch and then torso, and finally his face. He descended the final step and for a brief moment she could only feast her eyes upon him, fists clenched hard enough to turn her knuckles white as she held them fiercely under her armpits.
He was dressed in everyday clothes and the plain black t-shirt encased his lean torso tightly enough to hint at the six-pack she remembered all to well. It was short-sleeved to top it all off, deliberately flaunting toned arms that had darkened to a shimmering bronze during the two months apart. He had grown taller too, and his shoulders were that much broader; the fitted t-shirt and casual jeans made him seem older than the Hogwarts school uniform. Older and way, way too sexy. Unconsciously she licked her lips. Definitely not a good thing.
With all these thoughts spinning through her mind, it took a few moment for her too register his expression, and when she finally met his burning furious gaze, the unexpectedness made her gasp in shock.
He was beyond angry; he was livid, she thought blankly; his eyes were had darkened with fury until they seemed almost black and a muscle twitched in that strong, lightly-stubbled jaw. She could only stare back, uncomprehending as he curled his lip in an expression of undisguised loathing that made her flinch. After yesterday, she hadn't really been sure what to expect, but it certainly hadn't been this. His face portrayed more hatred than she'd seen him show since the fateful morning itself. For once he wasn't bothering to hide his emotions and the cold, murderous look in his eyes chilled her to the core.
She hadn't had time to even gasp aloud when suddenly he was away, striding fiercely down the corridor with such a speed that he was twenty feet ahead of her before she realised he had moved. She ran to catch up with him, taking three steps to match every one of his, her small face flushed as she struggled to keep up.
Twice she opened her mouth to speak, to ask him if he knew where he was going, but each time the jeering harshness in his face made her question the wisdom of talking to him when he was as wild as this.
The speed was such that Lily gave up on paying attention to her feet and suddenly one foot hit the edge of a slab of stone that was unexpectedly higher than the rest. She gave a gasp and would have fallen heavily and very likely painfully, when suddenly an iron grip on her wrist yanked her upwards and saved her from being thrown to the ground.
She glanced up a him in surprise, and their green met hazel for a brief second before James suddenly dropped her arm as though it burned, and was off again, striding round the corner at that same brisk pace.
Lily stayed there for a second, as uncontrollable tears suddenly filled her green eyes, and she brushed them away angrily, though still careful not to smear the black mascara over her white cheeks. Silly, she berated herself fiercely, silly to think that something might have changed, that somehow he might hate her a little less. She needed to get a hold of herself, she'd been taught better than this. And she'd promised. Green emeralds flashed at the memory; she'd sworn to Moniqua, that never again would James Potter see her cry.
The deep breaths helped, and when she rounded the corridor, there was nothing in her face to show the dull ache in her heart as she wondered how she would ever find the way, now James had disappeared.
The tall figure suddenly standing in front of her made her jump and she gaped open-mouthed as James Potter stood there in silence, face blank as he waited for her to catch up. Lily stared at him, conscious of the feeling of gratitude that must have been obvious in her green eyes as she walked quickly to his side, but he said not a word. He turned and continued to lead the way, though noticeably a little slower than before.
James finally drew to an abrupt halt in front of a portrait of a man who seemed to being standing in front of a full-length mirror, framed in gold, that strangely enough seemed to throw back no reflection. The dark-haired boy stepped closer and Lily waited, a pace behind, for him to speak the unknown password. Inwardly her heart leapt at the thought, suddenly realising that it was the first time she would hear his voice since the night before.
The rich chocolaty tones made Lily sigh unconsciously in longing, as they echoed softly around the empty corridor, sending tingles up her spine. Yet again, her tongue slipped out to wet her lips, as she fought to suppress the feelings that were suddenly waging war with her self-control. Damn that velvet voice that could still make her go weak at the knees.
"Erised."
The small gaunt man seemed to wince at the single, softly-spoken word, but he nodded, and the portrait swung slowly open on rusty hinges, and one after the other, boy and girl stepped into the brightly lit room.
It was completely round, Lily noticed through her excitement, they had to be in one of the smaller towers, and it was PERFECT. There was a great stone fireplace that was already roaring happily away on one side of the room. The carpet was soft and a deep, cheery, crimson, to match the huge appealing-looking cushions on the leather sofa, obviously reflecting the Heads Students mutual house pride. The sofa and two armchairs were placed near the fire, separated by two small identical coffee tables, of heavy slightly worn oak, to match the larger table on the other side of the room and the four chairs surrounding it. Further away there was a huge gold-rimmed window, curving outwards, to form a window seat, that was also decorated with the same plush velvet cushions as the six-seater sofa.
Lily could only smile stupidly as she surveyed the cosy, comfortable room happily. Already she could see them here; her curled up at the end of the sofa with a favourite book, James lounging at the window that rather coincidently looked out over the vast Quidditch Pitch. It suited them, both of them. There was a glass case filled with models of different broomsticks by the fireplace, and Lily didn't have to look to know that James was already eyeing it up discreetly. There was a snitch it there too, and Lily smiled inwardly, wondering if Dumbledore was taking the mick. Every student in seventh year knew how James had famously stolen the school snitch two years ago, transforming it into his favourite toy.
There was a massive bookcase too and Lily's green eyes widened in excitement as she realised that many of them were muggle novels. Titles leapt out at her from the past; Pride and Prejudice, The Just So Stories, the Brother Cadfael omnibuses. There was even her all time favourite, 'These Old Shades', as well as it's follow up, 'Devils Cub'. Period novels, these two books were like gold to Lily; after borrowing them from the public library, she'd spent years keeping her eyes peeled for the rare, little-known manuals. The told the story of her childhood heroine, Léonie, a spirited, brave and cheeky imp from the backstreets of Paris who comes to love the wealthy, womanising Duke of Avon. Lily loved the story for it's romance and because the pretty French girl, like Lily herself, had a flaming temper to match her rich, copper curls.
Suddenly feeling warm and content, she turned to James with an irrepressible smile, forgetting in her pleasure that he was still ready to murder her.
The cold look of distain he sent her way, brought the red-head back to earth with thump, and the smile slid of her face as his eyes burned a hole through her face and her heart. He didn't even bother to conceal the hatred he clearly felt.
It hurt, and all at once she felt her own temper rising; he had no right to ruin this for her. This was her day of triumph, why shouldn't she smile and be happy. How dare he bring her down from her cloud nine.
He turned away and made to walk towards one of the three doors built into the wall across the room, and for some reason it enraged her even more. She stepped after him, eyes blazing in sudden fury as she demanded furiously
"What? What is it, what the hell have I done NOW to infuriate the great James Potter?! Dammit you arrogant, pig-headed git!! When are you going to stop having these bloody temper tantrums, and simply tell me what I've done to piss you off once more!"
She caught her breath, cheeks flushed in anger, fists clenched as she fought to keep them by her side.
He turned around, haughty and outwardly nonchalant, but she could see the answering anger burning in those hazel orbs as he walked towards her.
He stopped centimetres in front of her, eyes flashing dangerously as his words were hissed through gritted teeth.
"Why I'm angry Evans? I don't know, you tell me. Could it be because not only did you stoop low enough to spilling out my reputation to my MOTHER, but you actually had the nerve to spew some twisted, tearful, bawling bunch of lies/sob-story, about me bloody breaking your heart! I couldn't even believe it when she said that, Evans. One, that you actually lied to her, after she helped you so much, and two, that you passed off YOUR bloody crime onto me! Didn't tell her about the bet did you, red? Didn't mention the fact that you shagged your teacher's son just for fifty fucking galleons, did you!! How dare you, Evans!! How dare you even talk about fucking heartbreak!!"
Through his anger, and hurt, he didn't even register the fact that Lily was now white as a sheet, and trembling from head to foot. Nor did he notice her green eyes, suddenly wide with horror as she realised the depths of her mistake. is voice lowered, icy and smooth as silk.
"So don't you ever, EVER, make me lie for you again, Evans! Yeah, I told my mother it was true, that I broke your heart and I let her believe that every thing that happened after, if was for no fucking reason. Consider it an apology, for taking it just that little bit too far last year. But don't you ever ask me for any thing again, Evans. I don't even want you near me. Right now, I can barely stand the sight of you."
He stopped breaths coming fast, and he closed his eyes, fighting for his self-control. When he opened them, his smirk was already securely in place. His hazel eyes laughed jeeringly into her and he leaned closer in that hateful way that gave her goose bumps every time, the words softly and silky across her cheek.
"But trust me, Lily, you will regret crying that load of bull onto my mums shoulder. That I swear."
He turned and strode into his room, and the door with the words, James Potter written in Gold italic, was slammed shut behind him.
The sound seemed to echo round the room and through Lily's dazed brain, that was still hopelessly trying to make sense of what she'd heard. She sunk slowly to the leather sofa, knees suddenly unable to support her weight, as the horror of what had happened finally began to sink in.
Of course she'd lied, but James was wrong, horribly, terribly wrong. It was to him, him and the rest of the school she'd lied to really, only he could never know that. In the warm comfort of Moniqua's arms, Lily remembered all to well how her pain had gradually eased as she spilled out her woes or most of them to her mentors supporting shoulder. It had felt so liberating, so blissful to finally tell somebody at least some of the truth, to confess to someone just how badly he torn her heart to pieces that night. And the rest of the school would never meet Moniqua Monroe, how could they? Her secret would still be safe, but one person at least would know her heartbreak, and would never know the lie she'd told over and over again to the rest of the world.
But of course, fate had once again foiled her perfect plans, by making her mentor, her agony aunt, James Potter's mother. No wonder he must hate her a thousand times more now. But to tell him the truth, it was unthinkable. All she could do was admit he was right; she'd poured out a bunch of disgusting lies to her teacher, leading her to be furious with her son. Sitting on that sofa, staring at he door with her nemesis' name taunting her in gold letters, Lily thought she might just give up. It had gotten so far out of hand, and she'd hurt him all over again, only this time she truthfully hadn't wanted to. But he could never know that.
She stayed there without moving, for over an hour, eyes staring blindly, heart silently weeping as she realised that now, all hope of reconciliation was now gone forever. His loathing of her would now be justified, and that knowledge threatened to crush her.
But it didn't. Moniqua's training was too strong to be ignored and almost unconsciously, she pulled herself together finally, as a glance at her watch indicated that their first lesson would be starting in ten minutes time. She rose to her feet and threw her bag over her shoulder, suddenly panicking as she realised that she had potions first, and that it took time to make her way down into the dark dungeons. Roughly ten minutes of time.
She was at the portrait hole when something stopped her and she hesitated, glancing towards the words 'James Potter', and back to the portrait hole once more. A voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to GO; he sure as hell didn't want to speak to her, and she would be late if she didn't leave now. So what if he missed first lesson; it had never bothered him before.
Lily chewed at her lip without moving. He might have fallen asleep, or lost track of time in his anger with her. Plus it wasn't a very good beginning. As Heads they would have to work together, like it or not, and if they had to be united, she had to start somewhere.
Finally she spun on her heel and walked nervously over to the rather imposing door, already thinking to herself that this was a very very bad idea. She knocked, gently at first and then more loudly when there was no sound from the other side.
Frowning slightly, she looked back towards the portrait hole; James would certainly kill her for entering his room uninvited and she was already looking to be almost five minutes late, but still, leaving now, when she'd come so far, it seemed rather cowardly. She bit her lip once more before squaring her petite shoulders and determinedly turning the round, gold doorknob.
Nothing happened. Lily frowned. Had he locked it behind him? There was no keyhole, that she could see. And jamming it shut with a deck or a chair seemed a little extreme, even for James.
Puzzled she bent down to frown at the doorknob, turning it in front of her eyes to see whether it had somehow jammed. It was then that she noticed a tiny picture engraved into the smooth metalwork, so small that you had to be a fingers distance away to actually see it.
She ran the tip of one white finger over shining the gold, tracing the outline as she tried to work out what it depicted. To her surprise it seemed to be some kind of flower, carved into the round knob in minute detail that seemed impossible for a human hand.
She bent closer, squinting as she moved her head so that the tiny image caught the light, and her mouth opened in surprise as the sunlight picked out the smaller details.
"It's…a lily." she breathed, in confusion, and, almost in answer there was a faint click, and the door swung silently open under her bemused gaze.
She stood up, biting her lip once more in hesitation, before calling softly into the room
"Potter… Potter, class is starting in three minutes and we're down in the down in the dungeons."
No answer. For a moment Lily simply stood there, not comprehending. She'd watched him walk in here. Then her brain caught up and her eyes darkened in anger as she understood what the idiot was doing. He was ignoring her, the bloody prat, and she wasn't in the mood.
Lily walked smartly though the door, eyes flashing as she turned her head, searching for the messy head that she expected to see lounging somewhere, probably with a dumb smirk on his face in having succeeded in making her late on her first day.
He wasn't there. The room was empty, at least of any human life, and Lily stared blankly, half expecting him to jump out from behind the bed with a loud BOO!
She took a step forward, head turning back and forth as she searched for possible hiding places, but there were none. The huge four-poster bed stood majestically against one wall, with rich crimson pillows and blankets, decorated with tiny patterns of gold. She moved closer, now curious despite herself and smiled in childlike delight as she realised they were tiny embroided snitches, thousands of them, zooming back and forth across the crimson velvet.
Lily looked around the room once more, curiosity now filling her entirely as small items leapt out at her, raising hundred of questions in her mind about why they were obviously important to James. The need to suddenly find out more about him, it was overwhelming, and finally triumphed over the dread of being found here that still gnawed in the back of her mind.
The huge, richly decorated fan spread over one wall, for example; it seemed strangely out of place in the room of a teenage pureblood boy. As did the muggle football sitting on the large intricately carved walnut desk, next to the familiar school trunk. There was a model of a muggle racing car too, being used as a paperweight as it sat on what looked like a blank piece of scrap parchment. She moved closer and picked up a small white-rimmed mirror, smiling slightly as she remembered him always carrying it around with him when they were going out. She'd thought it odd at the time, because he never seemed to look in it. James had laughed and said that he did his best to hide his arrogance and vanity whenever he was around her. The memory caused a slight pang as she replaced it carefully where it was.
A guitar sitting by the impressive bed, caught her eye too and she was puzzled; he didn't actually play, did he? So many questions she longed to ask, so many stories behind each and every item, it was almost intoxicating and she want badly to ignore the alarm bells still ringing silently in her head. She shouldn't be here.
She shook her head and turned to leave, before something stopped her in her tracks. She hadn't seen it as she'd came in; it was attached to the stone wall right beside the door; a large, cork, pin board, covered entirely with photos and letters and a few small objects, all obviously stuck on by magic. In seemed to draw her in and her curiosity took her over as she saw that a green t-shirt had placed over one side of the notice board.
Lily frowned. It was too deliberately placed to have been casually thrown there. It was almost as if the fabric had been used to cover up something, but even that was strange. If James hadn't wanted something on here, surely he would have simply removed it.
She hesitated, nervously chewing her lip once more, before she realised her white hand was already creeping towards the green material without her realising. Only a quick peep; it couldn't hurt surely.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat."
The hand was snatched back, and guilt was written all over Lily's white face and she spun round to the owner of the voice with scared eyes. Then her jaw dropped.
James smirk was more arrogant than ever as he watched her mouth fall open and her eyes widen, at the sight of him. He raised a brown hand to brush his wet hair out of his eyes and his smirk grew, as her stricken gaze followed the movement with agonised eyes.
The water from his hair was dripping constantly down his bare torso, glistening as each tear-like drop snaked over muscle, again and again, before disappearing into the white towel round his waist. He'd been horrified to find her in his room, as he'd walked through the hidden door that joined the bedroom to the luxurious Heads bathroom. Still shaking with anger, he'd decided to cool off in the Olympic sized swimming pool, laughing like a child again as he played with all the perfumes and bubbles. And then to come back and find her in front of that bloody notice board, fingers mere inches away from lifting the t-shirt he'd furiously placed to hide what he still couldn't face seeing.
He's panicked, but the sight of her almost fainting with desire in front of him, it had brought back his good humour. He was in control once more, and she was to busy concentrating on his abdominal muscles to worry about some green t-shirt.
A pink pointed tongue crept out to wet those even pinker lips and he frowned inwardly. Damn, he'd forgotten how tempting she looked when she did that, but his own lust was still firmly under control, unlike the girl's in front of him.
She suddenly stared at him straight in the eye, face flushing instantly with embarrassment, and the impression of déjà vu hit him painfully somewhere in his chest. But she was thinking the same thing, he could see it in her eyes, and he was still stronger. He could overcome this pain and use it.
The smirk belonged to the devil, Lily thought vaguely as he moved with that damnable catlike grace towards her, his...gulp...very wet, very firm, brown body glinting slightly as the small streams of water caught the light. She swallowed again as he got closer, too close, DEFINITELY too close! She edged away from the proximity, still stubbornly holding his gaze as she ignored the small detail that she was going to pass out any second now from hyperventilating.
He was right in front of her once more, so that his smooth bronze neck was at her eye line, and she watched fascinated as one particular drop, slid down his adam's-apple to nestle in the small crevice of his collar bone. Was it normal to be envying a drop of water? , she wondered rather dazedly.
Lily's pupils dilated as he lifted a brown finger and collected that same drop she was staring at, on the very tip. Her breath caught as he carried it to his lips and licked the digit dry with a sensuality that made her own tongue slip out yet again to wet her own lips in yearning.
The movement seemed to wind him up for some reason; a flash of something crossed his dark mocking eyes before it was gone. The smirk was back, he was back, back in complete control and it annoyed her. But annoyance was suddenly strangely unimportant as he moved closer yet again, and yet again she moved back nervously. Forward. Back. Forward. Back.
He suddenly leaned his face towards her and she visibly gulped; his lips were so close to hers that merely speaking made them brush each other, but so far away that she yearned for him to close the gab. They opened tantalisingly, and she realised that he was speaking in a soft voice that shook slightly with suppressed laughter.
"Later, Evans."
Green eyes widened as suddenly the oak door was swung shut in her face, and she stood there, open-mouthed before her temper suddenly roared into life. Eyes blazing at his despicable mind tricks, the way she hadn't even noticed him backing her out of the room, his parting double entendre!! Argh! She kicked the oak door with a furious foot, snarling at him through the door as she strode to the portrait hole and yanked it roughly open
"Never in a millions years, you arrogant, perverted, piece of SHIT!!!" The little man in the picture fell over in astonishment as the portrait was slammed closed behind her, but she didn't notice. She marched towards the staircase, fuming inwardly, with James Potter's mocking laughter still ringing in her ears.
Well? Thoughts, questions, complaints, theories…They're all welcome. Please please please do, because I love reading about how certain things are coming across and whether people are close to understanding the little hints for the future. Complaints too, I'm only an amateur writer and any critism is definitely welcome.
Oh yeah, translations for those who want them:
Assis-toi. Sit down
Batard/ enculé Any kind of swearword really, bastard, git, arsehole, take your pick :)
Chez nous at our place
"Pardonne-moi, m'man. Mais cette fois, tu ne peux pas m'aider." Forgive me mother, but this time, there's nothing you can do to help me.
"Moi aussi, m'man. À jamais." Me too, mother. Always. After that, oh yeah, an explanation about the books Lily mentions. They happen to be two of my favourites (there's a surprise) and they actually inspired at lot of sides of my characters of Lily and James; there personnalities, turns of phrase, etc.. So to anyone who's interested, I highly recommend them as I do all of the other book written by Georgette Heyer. She's a big big favourite of mine. :)
Anyway to sum it up, R&R!!!!!!!!!
Lots an lots and lots (x10^1000) of love to all my readers
Lili
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PS: Very recently I finally managed to actually put up my profile (yes yes I know, it's about time) so if anyone feels up to reading a little bit about me as well as some background on the story, well it's there for you to sneak a peak at lol.