Disclaimer: I would have to be seriously deluded to take credit for J. K. R.'s amazing creations. All characters, situations and... well, pretty much anything you recognize, belong to J. K. Rowling.


Chapter Twelve: Flight and Fall

The Saturday following Evangeline and Sirius' return to the castle, Lily found herself holed up in the Gryffindor common room in total reclusive study mode, threatening to disappear beneath a sea of open textbooks and scraps of parchment and scribbling furiously onto a scroll that was already hanging over the edge of the table and trailing onto the floor. She paused momentarily, quill suspended in mid-air as she chewed her lip in thought, and then ducked her head again, completely oblivious to the world as she continued to write.

Across the room, a pair of hazel eyes watched her actions with great interest and amusement. James, barely suppressing a mischievous grin, was crouched behind a sofa, bidding his time and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. When Lily turned and began to rummage through her bag, he saw his opportunity. Tightening his grip around the two broom handles that were held in his left hand, he rose to his feet and padded silently across the otherwise deserted common room. He stood behind his target for a moment, smile widening. Then, he pounced.

"I'm kidnapping you."

The moment the words left his mouth, Lily's entire body twitched in alarm and she let out a shriek. Hand over her heart, she spun around and gaped at James' smiling face. "For the love of Merlin, James," she ground out, voice slightly shaky. "What's your problem?"

James' smile didn't budge. "I'm kidnapping you," he repeated.

Ignoring him, Lily frowned at the parchment in front of her and crossed something out. "Bug off," she told him distractedly. "No time to talk."

The next thing she knew, her quill had been yanked cleanly out of her tightly clenched hand. "Oi!" Eyes blazing, she lifted her head. "Seriously, what is your problem? Give it back!"

James moved the quill out of her reach and then tucked it into his pocket. "You've been working all morning."

Lily gnashed her teeth. "Yes, I have. And I'm going to be working all bloody night if you don't give me back my quill."

James didn't move, and Lily took in a frustrated breath of air. "You know what? I don't have time for this. Keep the stupid thing. Just leave me alone." She rifled through her bag and extracted a second quill. Unfortunately, right before she was able to dip the tip into her ink pot, a hand shot out and caught her wrist. Next thing she knew, she was yanked right off of her chair.

"Okay seriously, sod off!" With brutal viciousness, Lily attempted to pry his fingers off of her wrist.

Wincing at both the verbal and physical abuse that he was undergoing, James managed to hold tight. "Stop fighting, Lily," he insisted. "You need a break. Come on."

It was then that Lily noticed the two broomsticks held in his other hand, and felt her spine tingle. "Wait a second…" She froze, eyes trained on the wooden death traps. Although she feared that she already knew the answer to the next question, she voiced it anyway. "What are those for?"

Grateful for a reprieve from the torture, James thrust one of the brooms into her hands. "I," he began, pulling her gently toward the portrait hole, "am going to teach you how to fly."

"Oh, no." Her worst fear confirmed, Lily pulled back, eyes wide in horror. "No, no, no, no. I don't fly."

Exasperatedly, James ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, you do," he corrected. "Or, well, you will. I told you I'd teach you, and I don't go back on my word. Come on."

But Lily was adamant. "I have to finish my essay," she insisted. "Professor Kettleburn…"

"… would probably be exceedingly grateful if you stopped writing now before you hit the ten foot mark." James cut her off, regarding the lengthy scroll of parchment with a grin. "You know, spare his eyesight, and all that."

Lily growled, and then sighed. "You're not going to let me get out of this, are you?"

"Not a chance."

The stalemate hung in the air for a few moments, and then finally, Lily let out a grunt of submission. "Fine," she snapped. "But only because I'm sick of writing about bundimun infestations."

"Wait, seriously?" James looked mildly thrown.

"Yes," Lily clarified in a well duh sort of voice. "They're fungi with eyes. Not exactly the most riveting subject matter."

Laughing, James shook his head. "No, I meant, you'll actually come with me?"

"Well… yeah," Lily said slowly, and then narrowed her eyes to suspicious slits. "Why—what are you going to do?"

James shook his head again, hastily. "Nah, I just… didn't think it'd be that easy. I had a whole plan worked ou—" Seeing Lily's face, he clamped his mouth shut. "Never mind," he said. "Let's go!"


And so that was how Lily found herself, ten minutes later, standing in a little grassy alcove behind the school with James Potter, a couple of Comet 260s and a stomach full of butterflies.

"It's easy," James was saying, showing her how to adjust her grip on the handle. "Just put your hands a little closer together." He covered her fingers with his, repositioning them, and Lily felt that familiar warm pull in her abdomen.

As he removed his hands, something strange happened: Lily suddenly became very self-conscious and found herself wishing that she had made an effort with her hair, or at least put on some mascara. She vaguely remembered throwing her hair into a messy bun that morning and chucking on an old pair of jeans and a sweater. Stupid, she chided herself, and then wondered why the hell it mattered anyway. Cringing, she gave a small cough and glanced up at James. "Now what?" she asked in a would-be-casual tone, hoping that her cheeks weren't giving her away.

"Now," said James, mounting his own broom like it was second nature. "You fly."

Lily turned a mocking stare on him. "Thank you, O Great Teacher," she deadpanned. "That's so enlightening."

James stuck his tongue out in response. "I'm getting there," he assured her, and then rose a few centimetres off the ground, toes skimming the grass as he moved toward her. He descended slowly, examining her face with care. "We'll start with staying close to the ground—that way you won't have any chance of falling."

Lily shivered. "Alright. So… how do I do this, exactly?"

"You just think about where you want to go. As long as you're in command and holding on tight, the broom'll trust you."

"It will trust me? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"It works both ways," he informed her. "Just relax, Lily; you'll be fine."

Full of doubt, she tightened her grip on the handle. Then, she willed her thoughts to come together, focusing on the feeling of lifting off the ground. The effect was immediate; beneath her, the broom twitched to life and rose jerkily into the air. Lily, utterly unprepared, shrieked and lost her focus, causing the broomstick to lose altitude. She stumbled back to the ground on clumsy feet.

James reached out a hand to steady her. "That was good," he said mildly. "Just make sure you don't panic."

Breathing heavily through her nostrils, Lily dropped the broomstick and planted her feet firmly on the ground. "Good?" she repeated incredulously. "That was bloody terrifying! You know what? I give up. Flying just isn't for me, alright?"

James looked into the air for a moment and expelled a sigh. "Okay, that's it. Plan B." He climbed onto his broom once more, looking strangely determined. "Lily, get on."

"Come again?" She squinted at him.

"My broom; climb on the back."

"Are you insane?"

James held his ground, sending her a beseeching glance. "Please," he said. "I just want you to see it how I see it."

Crossing her arms, Lily let out a deep sigh, but she had a feeling she was going to end up caving in. Something in his voice was crumbling her defences (or maybe it was the fact that he was staring straight at her with puppy-dog eyes). She sighed again. "Alright," she said, and her shoulders drooped in reluctant accord. "But only for a second—and you can't go too high."

James looked ecstatic. "Trust me, it's going to be brilliant," he enthused, and scooted forward a little, motioning for her to sit.

Lily obeyed, although she might as well have been on her way to the gallows for the look of utter dread on her face. She swung her leg over the side awkwardly and then froze. Her nostrils had been hit by a waft of cinnamon, and it had caught her off-guard, to say the least. Sweet and warm, not overly strong, the aroma reminded her strangely of… Christmastime. She breathed in again and had a sudden mental image of hot chocolate and carols and decorating a tree by candlelight. It seemed to be some kind of cologne, but Lily couldn't put her finger on the brand; whatever it was… she liked it.

James turned his head and the smell intensified, leaving Lily mildly light-headed. "You ready?"

Barely managing a coherent head shake, Lily folded her arms again and tried to appear cross. "Of course not. If I die, it'd better be on your conscience."

James opened his mouth in mock outrage. "I would never let that happen," he assured her, and then grinned wickedly, "... be far too hard to hide the evidence, given the circumstances."

"Prat." Lily whacked him on the shoulder from behind. Suddenly, she was very glad that they were alone; her actions probably constituted flirting on some level, and she knew that were they present, Evangeline and Isabelle would most definitely be exchanging sly glances behind her back.

"Ahem." James broke her train of thought with a light cough. "You, er, might want to hold on."

"What? Oh." Lily glanced around for a suitable hand rest for a few seconds before realizing that he meant his waist. Cheeks practically ablaze, she reached out tentatively and loosely encircled him with her arms. The Christmas smell was back; for some strange reason, she found it ridiculously alluring.

"Ready?" James asked again, turning to face her one more time.

Lily's heart was beating a mile a minute, but she didn't know if it was because of the imminent flight or simply her proximity to James and his cologne. She swallowed and tried to speak. Nothing came out.

Apparently, James had taken her non-response as a sign of accord, because not a moment later, the broom began to rise.

The minute the soles of her feet left the ground, Lily panicked. "You won't go too fast, right?" she queried, her voice high and fearful. "Right? You'll—JAAAMES!" They suddenly shot into the air with superhuman speed, and Lily's arms tightened around James in a reflex reaction. Eyes closed and head ducked into his shoulder, she held on for dear life, screaming.

Finally, their ascent slowed and James lifted a hand to his ear with a wince. "Good lord, woman, I think you broke my eardrums."

Lily opened her eyes and glared at his back, retorting: "I think you just broke the sound barrier, you git!" Slowly, she dared to glance down and at once, her vision became fuzzy. The castle had been reduced to a little stone house, the Black Lake a puddle of inky water. Trees blurred together and students on the lawn were mere specks, barely visible to the naked eye. Lily bit her lip, highly aware of her dangling feet and the fact that they were miles and miles above the ground. Her arms snaked tighter around James' body.

"You alright?" James checked, his tone showing genuine concern. He turned his head slightly so that his face was within mere inches of Lily's. "Sorry," he offered. "I should've gone slower—it's just kind of a reflex."

Throat gone dry, Lily managed a vague "S'okay," and then stole another glimpse over the edge. Her entire body was abuzz with a mixture of thrill and terror, her heart pounding and her eyes wide.

The feeling only intensified from there. The five minutes that followed were the most alive that Lily had felt in years. James began by the forest, swooping over the treetops in long arcs and sending flocks of birds into flurries of flight around them, their wings silhouetted against the autumn sky. Then, evergreens became stone towers and they were skirting the edges of the castle, rising until they were level with the astronomy tower and then circling the roof. Lily clung to James like a lifeline, comforted by his warmth and his scent, and before she knew it, they were soaring over the Black Lake—first high in the air, and then so close to the surface that Lily could see her shining face reflected in the murky depths. Gaining a smidgeon of confidence, she unhooked one arm from around James' torso and dipped her fingers into the water, watching with delight the trail of ripples and bubbles that she was leaving behind on the surface. Despite everything, she let out a breath of laughter.

And then, all too soon, they were back in the alcove and floating slowly toward the grassy ground. Hair windswept, heart racing and face stretched into a wide grin, Lily expelled another laugh the moment her feet hit the earth. James held her hand and helped her off the broom, grinning in return. "So?" he prompted.

"That was… that was incredible," Lily gasped. "Like a roller coaster, only so much better! It mean it was just so… so…" She stopped, and laughed. "You've got me lost for words."

James grinned, but there was a deeper emotion being suppressed behind his tight lips. "I guess it just goes to show," he said, his voice low, "even if you think you hate something, you never really know…" He paused, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of windblown hair behind Lily's ear. "…until you give it a chance."

Lily's breath caught in her throat, for she knew full well that he wasn't talking about flying anymore. She lifted her head and met his gaze, looking up from under her eyelashes. His hand, which was still in her hair, began to trail down her cheek, leaving a burning path along her the side of her face. She swallowed, caught up in the intensity of his hazel eyes.

And then in a motion that was sudden, and yet somehow seemed to occur in slow motion, James dropped his hand to the back of her neck, leaned in, and closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers.

For a split second, Lily stood stock still, eyes wide in surprise, but as James gently started to move his mouth across hers, her eyelids fluttered closed and her body began to respond in turn. Heart pounding electrically, she focused on the warmth of his lips and found herself reaching up to entangle her hands through his hair. She had always wondered what the dishevelled crop of strands would feel like, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was, in fact, soft and smooth. With an air of impatience, James used his other arm to press against the small of her back and pull her closer. Lily, happy to oblige, leaned into his chest, breathing in the smell of Christmas…

And then she froze.

Head fuzzy as he continued to kiss her, Lily faltered. James, sensing that something was wrong, pulled away from her lips, his cheeks tinged pink. There was a moment of silence, and then Lily retracted her hands as though they had been doused in boiling water. She gulped. "I… we… can't," she stammered, taking a few steps back. A sudden gust of cool wind shot through the gap between their bodies.

James looked hurt, and his voice was gravelly as he asked: "Why not?"

Reaching her hands to her head in frustration, Lily replied: "I just… I don't know."

A flash of anger crossed James' face, and suddenly his voice was much stronger. "No, I mean it Lily," he said harshly. "Why not? Why are you so intent on not admitting your feelings?"

Lily let out a little gasp, and her voice turned defensive and cool. "I'm not." The wind picked up, freeing the loose piece of hair that James had so carefully slipped behind her ear and causing it to whip across her face. "I don't… I don't like you in that way, James."

His responding gaze was cynical, mocking. "Really? Because I didn't exactly see you protesting just then."

Lily remained silent, and James shook his head and laughed humourlessly into the air. When he spoke, his tone was bland and emotionless. "I was about ready to give up on you this year, you know," he told her, "and then you started acting so differently toward me. I thought… maybe…" He shook his head and trailed off.

Lily bit her lip, not knowing how to respond, or even if she should respond. "I'm sorry," she finally croaked.

"Don't be sorry," he shot back, and the frustration in his tone was potent, "just… fucking stop leading me on."

Lily reeled as though she had been slapped. Never, in all their years of arguments, had James employed such harsh words. Unexpectedly, tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked furiously to make them go away.

Seeing this, James' anger seemed to dissipate ever so slightly. "Sorry," he said. "It's just… I've been trying Lily." His voice, now, was barely a whisper. "I really have, but it's like you have this… this image of me in your head, and no matter what I do, you'll never let go of it. I'll never be good enough."

Again, Lily remained silent, unable to find the words to make things right.

James shook his head. "Forget it," he said curtly. His irises, usually a warm hazel tone, almost looked grey. He raised his shoulders. "I'll leave you alone from now on—it's what you've always wanted, right?"

And then he bent to collect the broomsticks from the lawn, turned his back, and stalked away.

Lily stood numbly for a few minutes, a stone statue on the green lawn. She did not feel angry, or sad, or even relieved; as the wind whipped through the clearing, all she felt was cold. It was as though her mind had chosen to shut down. Eventually, teeth chattering from the rising bite in the air, she stumbled dazedly through the castle doors and dragged her listless body up several flights of stairs. The password for the common room slipped from her lips in a comatose sort of monotone, and then there were some more stairs, and finally she was turning the handle of the seventh year girls' dormitory.

The moment the door shut behind her, she broke down.

A loud, choked cry burst from her lips, and within a few seconds, her whole body was shuddering with sobs.

"Lily?" Evangeline, who had been sitting on her bed, jumped to her feet and rushed over in horror. "What's wrong?"

Crying uncontrollably, Lily took in several rapid breaths of air, unable to respond.

"Oh, Lil." Eva wrapped her arms around her friend, her forehead creased. "Here." She dragged her toward the bed and forced her to sit, conjuring up a box of tissues and offering it with outstretched hands.

"Thanks," Lily sniffed. She blew her nose a few times and then used the sleeve of her robes to swipe the tears from her cheeks.

Evangeline took a seat next to her, crossing her legs and scrunching her brow again. Once Lily's tears began to subside, she asked gently: "What happened?"

Lily shook her head, blowing her nose again. "James." The word slipped from her mouth in a hoarse whisper.

"James?" Evangeline repeated, frowning in confusion. "As in Potter? What do y—What on earth did he do?"

"He…" Lily raised a hand to her lips. "He kissed me."

"WHAT?"

Lily's gaze hardened. "He kissed me."

She found herself recounting the entire experience, beginning with her capture in the common room and ending with James' angry departure. Evangeline, for the most part, remained silent, listening to the story with a slight frown on her face. Partway through, a wrinkle appeared on her forehead, and it continued to deepen as the tale went on.

When Lily finished her story and Eva finally spoke, it was not at all what Lily expected.

"Oh, Lily," she groaned, sounding mildly frustrated, "why did you push him away?"

"Excuse me?" Lily lifted her head to examine her friend incredulously through red-rimmed eyes.

Evangeline sighed, pushing her long hair behind her ears. "It's just, I thought you liked him."

Lily groaned, smashing her head against her palm. "I do! But I don't, but I kind of…" She put her head in her hands and moaned, "I don't know!"

"Think of it from his perspective. " Evangeline's tone was gently rebuking, and Lily found herself slightly irked with it. "He's liked you for years, and he's probably confused out of his mind. Can you really blame him?"

"Why are you taking his side?" Lily burst out, her voice full of angry disbelief.

Evangeline's mouth fell closed, registering the sting in her words. "I'm not," she shot back. " I've just been thinking a lot clearer since… lately." She paused for a moment, her eyes cloudy. "He likes you, you like him—I don't understand why it has to be so difficult. Some of us aren't so lucky." The last sentence was a bitter afterthought, spoken much more quietly than the rest of her spiel.

Lily's eyes narrowed, and a dark comprehension dawned on her face. "Oh, I get it," she said, scorn dripping from every word. "This is about Black."

"What? No!" Evangeline's voice rose in pitch. Her eyes were livid. "God, don't bring him into this."

Lily scoffed. "Oh please," she said. "You've been acting strangely ever since you got back, and it obviously has something to do with him." She fixed her with a cynical brow-raise, daring her to deny it.

Evangeline stood up, putting more space between them, and crossed her arms. "Fine!" she snapped, her cheeks turning a hot, angry red. "Maybe it does. Maybe I just don't want you to make the same mistake I did, alright?"

Lily rose too, moving toward the other side so that the bed separated them, and crossed her arms so that her stance was identical to Evangeline's. "Thanks, but I really don't need a lecture right now," she snapped. "I need a friend."

"Well, I'm sorry for trying to look out for you." Evangeline threw back, and there was slight wetness glistening in her ocean blue eyes. She raised her shoulders in a sort of defeat. "I thought that was what friends did."

Lily, who by now was an emotional wreck, found herself yelling in return. "I know I made a complete bloody mess of things, okay? I know that! I don't need you to make me feel worse than I already do!"

Evangeline flinched as though physically hurt. "If that's how you feel, maybe you should have told Isabelle instead."

"Maybe I should have!" Lily shouted. "She might actually have understood!"

"Fine," Evangeline said. She sniffed, blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Since clearly I'm not wanted here…"

A loud slam reverberated throughout the room and Lily sank down onto the bed. Closing her eyes, she rolled over and whimpered bitterly into her pillow.


A/N: I'll spare you all my pathetic excuses for not updating. Suffice it to say that school is evil. This chapter was actually the result of a seriously bad case of procrastination (aka I was supposed to be working on a HUGE history paper that was due the next day. Um… oops?)

Anyway, I know this was like… ridikkulusly short compared to my usual chapters. I did it for pacing reasons. According to my Master Plan (that makes me sound like some sort of evil genius… Muahahahaha! :D), this was all that was supposed to happen in Chapter 12. And I must obey the Master Plan.

So, some general notes: Ooh, the drama. Sorry for the lack of Isabelle/Remus/Sirius/Wormbutt ('cause I know you're all just dying to read about him…) scenes in this chapter. I just thought the emphasis was needed elsewhere right now.

(And for those of you who read Starstruck, Chapter 5 is in the works, I promise!)

EDIT: I totally forgot to thank you all for your reassurances on my little confession last chapter. :) Thank you, thank you, thank you all for the wonderful comments that made me so happy! I'm glad you guys enjoy reading what I write. Special thanks to A lily with prongs for a long review full of praise that boosted my ego like crazy! Oh, and the other thing that I wanted to comment on was the whole Sirius living on 12 Grimmauld Place and Eva on 14... I guess maybe this was just the places where I've lived, but I'm used to the odd numbers all being on one side of the street and the even numbers on the other? Although, come to think of it, maybe JK did it differently in Harry Potter - I'll have to consult my HP books!