Written for Petals/Sarah's Training Prompt Tuesday: "Love makes you stupid and delirious, fuck, I've been stupid and delirious! I mean, how could you ever love someone like me?"
THERE ARE MOMENTS
There are moments in life when scattered memories of little, seemingly random choices all come into focus and collapse on themselves to show that they were, in hindsight, a clear path to the present. James figures this is one of those moments: a brutal punch of clarity that he should have seen coming but somehow missed.
Or maybe, deep down, he hadn't missed it, and had simply been delaying the inevitable. Maybe he'd known all along Lily Evans would break his heart, and he'd let her do it anyway.
He supposed this all traced back to the day he met Lily on the Hogwarts Express, age eleven, but his current path to heartbreak really began in earnest on September 1, 1977, age seventeen, when he faced her wearing the Head Boy badge for the first time, because that was the day that set him on the path of spending more time in Lily's presence than he'd ever imagined he'd spend.
It had been rocky at first, both of them stubborn and strong-willed, clunky in figuring out how to balance Lily's organized style and James's organized chaos, but as the weeks crept by, their schedules synced better, his confidence grew faster, and her smiles came easier. And then smiles became casual swats, and swats became flirty arm touches, and their years-old banter became less snarky and more soft. At some point along the way, for the first time in seven years, they started trading notes and proofreading each others' essays, and then not long after that a gradual give-and-take was established, whereby Lily picked up more duties when James was busy with Quidditch, and James carried the weight when Lily was swamped with her other N.E.W.T.s that James didn't take.
Little choices, here and there, mostly small. A choice to make a joke instead of a snide comment when James made yet another rookie mistake. A choice to diffuse that argument over detention slips when what Lily was really upset about was being called a slur in the hall. A choice to join him in the kitchens for a late dinner after his practice and present him with the outline she'd done for his essay that he still hadn't started. A choice to sit with her in the library and write their entire first quarter report for Dumbledore by himself while she attempted to dig herself out of Ancient Runes translations.
But then, bigger choices. A choice to put her hand on his knee under the cover of a library table and low-burning candles. A choice to put his arm around her shoulders when walking back from a late patrol. A choice to share a long, crushing hug on the pitch after Gryffindor won its first match of the year. A choice to share a long, passionate kiss later that same night after several rounds of Firewhisky had washed away inhibitions. A choice to blame the alcohol and skirt around each other awkwardly for weeks. A choice to chicken out on asking her to Hogsmeade and go with the boys instead. A choice to wind up sharing another drunken snog in the alley behind The Three Broomsticks anyway. A choice to slip into an empty classroom once they got back to the castle. A choice to pretend it didn't mean anything the next day when she seemed flustered and upset, though in reality his body was on fire and his heart was racing the speed of light. A choice to slip into a hidden alcove the next weekend. A choice to start ending their patrols and prefects meetings with clandestine trysts in broom closets and secret passageways. A choice not to talk about it. A choice to pretend it didn't mean anything. A choice to keep up appearances. A choice to keep choosing these same choices again, and again, and again.
James didn't exactly choose to fall in love, but he supposed, looking back over the course of events of the past few months, it was rather inevitable. And as the days of December disappeared to the past, he had chosen to overanalyze those flirty glances and knowing smiles and secret touches, all in the name of convincing himself she felt the same way back so as to muster the courage to ask her out—something he hadn't done since age sixteen—to Slughorn's Christmas Party. Only, he'd waited too long, and before he could choose his moment, word had reached him that Lily was going with her ex, the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain and all-around golden boy Edgar Bones, on whose behalf Hufflepuff House still held a grudge against James for somehow usurping the Head Boy position from Edgar, as if James had had any choice in that.
But regardless, the choice that had done the breaking: she'd been the one to ask.
Which is how he has ended up here, at a cocktail table in the dungeons, collar stiff around his neck, heart cracked in two, trying not to openly stare at Lily in that show-stopping black velvet dress, her dark red hair curled like he'd never seen her do before and swept elegantly over one milky shoulder.
The last time he'd seen that shoulder, over two weeks ago now, he'd kissed all along that collarbone and left a love bite on her neck, low enough to stay hidden under the collar of her school shirt. He had no idea when it had faded, or whether she'd magicked it away.
But then a distinctly male hand intruded his line of vision, touching Lily lightly on her bare back above where the velvet gathered in a low swoop near the base of her spine, and James thought he might just sick up the cocktail he'd downed in three gulps, so he averted his attention toward his own date.
Who was already scrutinizing him. "Y'know, I can't tell if you need another drink, or need to puke and rally."
James sighed. "I think I just need to leave."
Sirius only tutted. "No can do, Prongsie. You made me come here with you, I'm getting all the free fucking alcohol I could ever want."
"We could just buy our own?"
His friend scoffed playfully. "You could, I'm broke now. And besides, where's the fun in that, when Sluggy's bought all the good stuff for us? C'mon, stop moping—oh, fuck yes, salmon canapés, those are my favorite—"
"Really showing your poverty, there, Pads."
"Fuck off. Isn't this why you asked me here, instead of Moony? So I'd do all the schmoozing for you?"
James gave him a look but didn't deny it; Sirius loved any party, and James had been banking on Sirius's similar aristocratic upbringing and shot-put attention span to carry them through the drag of small talk and Slughorn's networking.
He swiped a new cocktail from a passing tray and changed the subject. "Reckon Mum'll make salmon canapés for our Christmas Eve party if you ask her."
Sirius's eyes lit up over his stuffed cheeks, and he looked like he was about to say something, but then his gaze caught on something over James's shoulder and his eyes widened even more. James whipped around, seeing what his friend had seen, and thought he might as well have poured his cocktail over the fragments of his heart. Because now, floating above Lily and Eddie as they stood in quiet conversation, each holding a drink, was a sprig of charmed mistletoe. A pink flush was warming Lily's cheeks, the sound of her laugh reaching James even where he stood across the room, the sight of her and Eddie laughing together, like the mistletoe was some version of an inside joke, twisting his insides in ways James had never realized was possible.
He couldn't do this, couldn't handle this. There was really nothing else for it. So ignoring Sirius, focusing solely on getting himself out in one piece, he turned on his heel, knocking his drink back as he went, and fled for the door.
There are moments in life when you realize you made choices you can't take back. Lily figures this is one of those moments: a sick twisting of guilt, unfurling from the moment she spotted James, messy black hair tamed more than usual, smart outfit hugging his limbs like it was designed just for him. But whereas James normally wore a shit-eating grin and exuded energy like he drank Invigoration Draught for breakfast, tonight, even from a distance, he seems drawn, dimmed. Something is wrong, and though she thinks in her mind that she's read all the signs correctly, she feels in her bones like she's made a mistake.
But it's too late to turn the train around now, so she sticks to the plan: have a fun evening with a good friend, retell as many embarrassing stories about Slug Club parties past as they can remember, and show the Head Boy what he's missing.
This mistletoe was not part of the plan. But thank Merlin she'd chosen to ask Eddie, whom she'd dated last year but with whom she'd remained friends, because he could laugh with her about it and lean down to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek to make the mistletoe go away.
She's still recovering from her giggles, already getting slightly tipsy from having a cocktail on a nervously empty stomach, when a hand closes around her arm and a voice says, "You need to go."
Turning around seems to happen in slow motion, though her heart picks up extra speed. Dark hair falls gracefully into stark gray eyes, and a hand pushes it back as a mouth forms that same word. Go.
"Lily." His grip tightened on her arm, the sharp tone of her name jolting her from her trance.
"Sirius, what—?"
Edgar tactfully stepped to the side, joining in small talk with someone else, and Sirius leaned toward her ear. "He left. When he saw the mistletoe, he left—"
Her stomach plummeted through the floor. "That wasn't supposed to—"
Sirius shook his head, cutting her off. "Fuck the plan, Evans, he's gone. So go."
There was really nothing else for it. Ditching Eddie, trusting Sirius to smooth things over, moving as quickly as she could in her sodding heels, Lily fled for the door.
Without the heat of the party, the dungeon corridor was shockingly cold, washing her exposed skin in goose pimples as her heels clicked rapidly against the stone floor. How quickly had Sirius gotten to her? How much farther ahead had he gotten?
She found her answer after the next turn, when a lone figure walked up ahead.
"James, wait!"
He stopped and looked back at her, surprise and confusion mingled on his face. "Evans?"
Lily slowed her steps and willed her heart to slow its race, but getting closer to him only seemed to have the opposite effect. "Sirius said you left."
He pulled at his hair. "Er, yeah."
A beat of silence.
Then, a new chill in his voice. "Don't you have a date to get back to?"
"James—"
"Stop."
Lily stared at him. "Stop what?"
"Calling me that."
She scoffed. "What, your name?"
A muscle twitched in his jaw, but his glare didn't falter. "My first name. I'm really just Potter to you, aren't I?"
Her mouth opened and closed, brain grasping for words that had apparently vanished. Outwardly, he hadn't become James until they'd started snogging and he'd mostly remained James only under cover of one of the castle's many dark, secluded spots.
Inside her head was another story entirely. "I—no—I don't—"
If she thought he seemed dimmed before, he suddenly only deflated further, fingers pinching his nose under his glasses, voice slightly cracked, as he spilled, "I can't do this, Lily. I can't watch you be on a date with someone else, I can't fucking be around you and pretend like I don't love you—"
Time paused. She wondered if he could hear her heartbeat, drum that it was. "You—"
"—because I do, I love you, I can't help it, and I fucking hate it. Love makes you stupid and delirious, fuck, I've been stupid and delirious! I mean, how could you ever love someone like me? You just proved it tonight, choosing Bones after we've spent how many weeks snogging now?"
His words stirred her temper, roused her tongue, and her skin prickled with new adrenaline as her wits came back in a flood of relief. "James."
He gulped, eyes searching hers.
"You idiot," she breathed. "You daft fucking idiot—"
"Evans—"
Her hand flew to his mouth. "Stop talking. Do you have any idea how hurt I was when I tried to talk to you after that day in Hogsmeade, and you just told me it didn't have to mean anything?"
She could see the protest in his eyes, hear the muffled sounds behind her hand, but she ignored him completely. "Do you have any idea how torn up I was, thinking you just wanted to fuck around on the side, but still not having the self-control to stop? Do you have any clue how much I fucking obsessed over everything? Every word you said, every time you smiled at me? I thought you felt the same way as me, I spent weeks thinking you were going to ask me out, and then weeks feeling stupid for feeling disappointed when you didn't—"
He pulled her hand away by her wrist, eyes flashing. "I was going to ask you to Slughorn's, but you bloody went and asked Bones—"
The words tumbled out a mile a minute. "Yeah, because you hadn't asked me and Sirius didn't think you were going to and I knew Eddie didn't have a date because we're still friends, and Sirius thought you just needed to get jealous to realize you wanted to make a real move, but I couldn't tell if you even wanted to make a move, so the plan was that Sirius was going to push you under the mistletoe with me—"
James's free hand clamped over her mouth, his eyes wild. "You and Sirius—"
She nodded.
"You wanted me to ask you?"
She nodded again.
"Evans, this whole time I thought you just wanted to fuck around on the side."
She shook her head, holding that golden gaze, and when her fingers closed around his wrist, he let her pull his hand away. "If love makes you stupid and delirious, then I guess that makes two of us."
A new voice added, "Emphasis on stupid."
Lily whipped her head around to see Sirius round the corner and lean casually against the wall. He chuckled, shaking his head. "You two are the most intelligent fucking idiots I've ever met, you know that?"
Behind her, James started, "Pads—"
Sirius pushed off the wall—"Yeah, yeah, I'm going"—and strolled past them, but before he rounded the corner, he turned and conjured a familiar-looking sprig over Lily's head. "That was the plan, right?"
With a wink, he was gone.
Lily looked back at James, finding his eyes already on her, gaze soft. "This was, um, the plan," she confirmed lamely.
James chuckled, letting go of her wrist to cup her waist and slide another hand around the back of her neck, but his voice was quiet, vulnerable, as he asked, "You want this? With me?"
Lily mirrored his hold, inching closer. "Yeah, James. I love you, too."
He rested his forehead on hers as a true shit-eating James Potter grin split across his face. "Fuck, Lily."
She swept a thumb across his cheek, that familiar brush of stubble sending tingles down her arm, and her heart skittered as James's fingers traced her jaw, tilted her chin.
There are moments in life that make everything feel aligned, like every choice and mistake and heartbreak was worth it because it led to this one unifying, integrating point in time. James figures this is one of those moments: an exhale of relief, an inhale of peace, and a kiss now laced with commitment.
Now, deep down, he knows he hadn't missed anything at all, but had simply gotten in his own way. Maybe he'd needed Lily Evans to break his heart, and maybe he'd needed to let her, so that she could be the one to fuse together the pieces and show him just how much she can love him after all.
fin.