-Disclaimer: See previous!
A/N: More James and Lily goodness!
It honestly felt like a scene from some slasher movie. There I was, locked in the closet with my arch enemy, who appeared to be suffering from a touch of hormonal rabies.
I didn't know whether to laugh it off, or drop to my knees and begin to beg for mercy. Yet, like a sheep suddenly attracted to the gleaming jaws of a wolf, a bigger part of me wanted to stick around and see what he had tucked up his sleeve.
"Honestly, Potter! What do you think you're doing?" I hissed.
I quickly detangled myself from his grasp, recoiling into the bleak depths of the closet's darkness.
Potter laughed, wand poised in his right hand like King Arthur's Excalibur.
"Saving your hide," he pompously declared.
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. I figured that I wouldn't be able to get a straight answer out of the little git.
"Care to elaborate?"
He rolled his eyes, perfectly at ease, feeding off of my anxiety and trepidation.
"In about five seconds, a group of second years will come stampeding down the hall, in attempts to successfully kidnap me. We wouldn't want you to be trampled by the masses, now would we? I'm sure ol Sirius wouldn't want his precious Evans squashed like a daffodil," Potter sneered.
A failure in the terms of concealed jealousy, the jest that usually floated in the center of Potter's chocolate eyes crackled and sparkled with pure and intense malcontent. Granted, I felt a little sorry for his erratic state of tension.
However, this was not superior to my annoyance or frustration, as I realized that each passing second would commemorate a possible trip to the land of detention. I had never received a detention or severe form of punishment in all my years as a Hogwarts student; seventh year is not the ideal place to commence such a rebellious streak.
The only way I was going to escape this torturous enslavement was to throw out a bargain. The more I bickered with Potter, it seemed that my duration of captivation would prolong. Potter wanted me to stay in here as long as humanly possible and I'd be damned if I allowed the growth of his wish into a reality.
My motivation was of the highest force; despite Professor Binns and his tedious and monotone lectures, a very sleepy yet very cute prankster and professional bad boy was waiting for my return. Yes, that was certainly a driving factor of my stubborn rationale.
"Leave Sirius out of this!" I indignantly insisted.
I felt like that because my boyfriend was absent in the physical sense, I had to adamantly protect his dignity.
Potter shook his head, dismissing it as though I were a child that had added wrong.
"Why? You know Lily, if you weren't so hard-headed, maybe this conversation wouldn't be taking place!"
This was quite the blow to my ego. First, he had the nerve to kidnap me and second, he commenced to insult my personality and nature? I didn't understand the source of his blasphemous remarks, nor did I genuinely want to pick apart his incentives. James Potter was far too complicated to ever fully comprehend; he was an enigma wound with the threads of a mystery.
For the past seven years, I had been witness to the result of his dynamic persona yet I had never been able to pin-point the origin of these behaviors. My Mum had always pushed the augmentation of a deep relationship with the aforementioned individual, yet I had always been hesitant.
I could never see why so many girls went crazy for him; I could clearly observe the ugly side of his hot-headed wit, traits and consequences that were so hideous that, in my personal opinion, outweighed the supposed tolerable side.
It seems a bit paradoxical and trite to speak such notions about Potter, when Sirius carried many of the same rudiments. However, Potter had always been so persistent to capture my adoration, that it tainted everything else.
"What does that have to do with anything? You know, you're the one being too stubborn for your own good. Just come clean, Potter. The true root of your wrath is solely due to your jealousy! You're just upset that I'm dating your best mate and not you!" I bellowed.
The illumination from Potter's wand was subordinate to the emotion that paraded in his tone of voice and his facial features. Once again, my subconscious knew that I should be fearful of Potter's violent fury, yet the only fear I experienced was the possibility of losing our verbal sparring match. I simply could not be outwitted by a pea brain, i.e. the buffoon towering in front of me.
This anger was quite different from the night of the Infamous Snog; that night had been drowning in the splendor of fresh hurt and betrayal. This incident was marked by full-frontal vexation, antagonism blended with disappointment. That night, Potter had exhibited a considerable amount of vulnerability and weakness.
At the presiding moment, the strength of his confidence squashed any spotlights for momentary frailty. He was a stupendous force to be reckoned with. The atmosphere was charged with both tension and animosity, unspoken words charging head-first into the sentences that flowed from our lips and onto the ground.
Surprisingly, I thought that I could never have an argument like this with Sirius; something so passionate and heated with raw sentiments of assured self-conviction.
And surprisingly, I realized that this type of conversation would be something I would truly miss.
"From the moment I saw you, I just knew that you were different. You're not like other girls, Lily. You're stubborn and selfish and cynical and witty and I wouldn't have you any other way. And Sirius…he's an ill match from the start. I know you think he's some sort of Prince Charming, but Sirius…he's too much of a mess."
Potter was blocking the door, so there was no way I could successfully run. I could certainly beat him in terms of intellectual discourse, but when it came to physical strength, Potter had the upper hand.
And like I confessed earlier, a small and pathetic part of me wanted to remain in my isolation. I was just as anxious to flee, as I was to uncover the next part of our argument.
I quickly reflected about Potter's revelation, too haughty to believe a syllable of any sentence. It was all lies, well calculated lies so I would doubt Sirius and break things off. I was just another conquest on Potter's ever-expanding list.
Naturally, he wanted me because I didn't want him. It's elementary, really. If an individual is constantly teased with the temptation of the unreachable, then the person will always grasp for this unattainable item. The allure of the inaccessible vice is a powerful motive.
I was convinced that James Potter was the type of person that would sell his own mother's liver on the black market, if it meant he received a direct and personal gain. He was rotten to the core. At least, that's what I had always told myself.
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you. Of course you'd badmouth Sirius, just to put yourself in an admirable light. Honestly Potter, it's seventh year. I still haven't shown the slightest interest in you. So what ever gave you the ridiculous idea that I would bypass years of solid conviction?" I snapped, with enough fire to light five chimneys.
He threw me a lopsided grin, one that was both endearing and childish. The anger was still present, though he allowed this to intermingle with a sprinkling of ironic and wry humor.
"I figured you'd have to crumble some time or another. Look, I know you think this is all some sort of well-planned conspiracy; that I'm warning you about Sirius just to encourage your doubts. But I'm only looking out for you, Lily. Sirius is my best mate and all, which means I've witnessed every angle of his personality, from the good, the bad and everything in between. He hasn't earned his" rebel without a cause" reputation for blowing up a few toilet seats, you know."
I frowned, unwilling to budge from my position.
Don't listen to him. He's only spewing out this sentimental garbage so he can get into your skirt. This is all some big competition to him, Lily. He's got his game strategies all planned out. Besides, Sirius does have his flaws, but no one's perfect. And in general, he's a good guy. So why should you listen to the likes of this prat? For Pete's sake, he stuffed you in a closet!
"Well, thanks for the heads up. But I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," I leered.
Potter shook his head, the anger igniting with renewed passion.
"You're going to drown, Evans. And I'm offering you a helping hand. Tell me, should my humility be punished?"
I openly laughed at these attempts of philosophical babble.
"Enough with the sappy lines. I never asked for you pseudo-help. You're a parasite, Potter. You leach onto your victims, because they possess a considerable amount of self-security that your fat-head can't possibly fathom. You think that just because I'm not with you, then I'll be miserable. The only thing miserable is your obsession with my love life," I sternly argued.
He scoffed with disbelief.
"You don't know him like I do."
The vibrato of his voice was oddly and eerily frank. However, I chose to ignore this observation. I snorted and took a step towards the door. This conversation was getting old and I was tired of fighting. Whenever I talked to Potter, it was like running in never-ending circles.
"Get a new hobby, Potter. Analyzing my every move isn't going to produce a date."
Potter rammed his back up against the door, glaring.
"You can't stand there and say you don't feel it," he laconically whispered.
I snickered, though it failed to fully cover the mounting zone of my hesitant disquiet.
"Now what are you jabbering about?" I casually teased.
Potter tenderly cupped my cheek in his free hand and I suddenly was frozen, immobile like a great Greek statue on the streets of Athens. I gulped, temporarily reminding myself to breathe, like a victim of an asthma attack.
Why didn't this ever happen with Sirius? Life would be so much easier. I couldn't let Potter gain the knowledge of my weak spot; it would ultimately mean that he maintained an easy source of power. This would be my downfall. And when the stakes were this high and this crucial, I needed everything to sustain the upper hand.
"Chemistry. Even when we're quarrelling, I still want to kiss you senseless. Do you understand how much power you have over me, Evans?"
A chill skittered down my spine and crashed into the ends of my toes. His usually nasal and obnoxious manner of speech had taken a nose-dive, adapting a serious and low baritone.
Unwillingly, the curtains of my eyelids shut, the muscles squeezing with a frightening intensity. Instinctively, my hand wobbled forward, catching Potter's shoulder in order to gain the comfort of balance. The room was far too small and I needed to run as fast as my legs could carry me.
Swiftly, Potter stuck his wand in his back pocket and it was as though an unknown hand had dropped a wool blanket of blackness over our heads. I was choking on my own words and my own principles.
Everything was bound to swallow me, with the loathsome fever of a starving beast. I couldn't deal with this, it was all too much. Surrounded by the darkness and its daunting possibilities, spiteful remarks that had been born on my tongue instantly died on my lips.
There was such avidity about Potter that was strangely entrancing; a twisted car crash that the mind pitied but the eyes feasted upon. The energy of his protests was enough to silence my zealous disparity. In that moment, all I wanted to do was wave the white flag and surrender.
The hand that had been stationed upon my cheek moved to the curve of my hip. The second hand daintily brushed their fingers across my bottom lip. I flinched and sharply inhaled, realizing that I had to abandon this prison if I wanted my emotions to make it out alive.
"Don't do this to me, Potter. I fancy Sirius. You and I…we'd never work out. You're everything I never wanted," I mumbled, like a drowsy drunk.
He chuckled, his smile pressing against my red-hot cheek.
"And you're everything I've ever needed."
What was happening? It was all happening much too fast for my senses and my logic to intake. My systems were overloading and overheating; my heart was in limbo and my hands were trembling with timid shudders. What was I going to do? This had never been in the Hogwarts Handbook!
"Bugger off," I spat.
He didn't say anything, but pulled me closer. I didn't protest. I was like a puppet with strings attached to the hands of a tyrant. Both his hands were lightly gripping my hips and the sound of our rhythmic breathing collided like toy trains. Never had someone made me feel this way, without even saying three words.
"Don't fight it, Lily. Merlin…just to hold you this close….You're killing me."
I didn't know what to say. All I knew was that I needed oxygen. And dawdling around in this little closet wasn't going to satisfy my thirst. Slowly, I peeled open my eyes and met his gaze.
We were mute; his hands around my waist, and my own perched on his shoulders like twin glasses. Fortunately, I didn't have to calculate any tricky ways to beguile my captor. At that moment, a group of giggly voices echoed throughout the hall.
Potter's eyes widened, though he didn't let go.
"Those damn second years. I told you they were after me. They're absolute savages, I tell you," he hissed.
I deeply inhaled and bit my lip.
"Forgive me for what I'm about to do."
Potter was puzzled, his brow furrowed. I waited until the voices seemed to be directly in front of the closet. Without a second thought, I glided out of Potter's arms like a slippery fish and jumped into the glow of the hallway light. I allowed the door to fling open, exposing a stunned Potter, slumped in the dreary corner.
"I found him! He's right in here!" I triumphantly announced.
The squeaky group of second-years cooed with delight and instantly pounced upon their prey. I turned my back on Potter and continued to walk down the hall, hoping my legs would eventually cease their shaking.