chapter 2.
James woke early the next morning.
The first thing he realized was that the window had failed to keep the breeze blowing towards him.
The second thing that he noticed was that Lily wasn't there.
The third thing he realized was that Lily was still in the infirmary.
The fourth thing he noticed was the most important, though.
He stood from the bed and walked to his bathroom. He stared straight ahead the whole time, thinking about the window and knowing what he would see in the mirror. So he did not look at himself as he turned on the faucet and washed his face, finally waking up fully.
It was then that he looked up at his face. And it was then that he shouted.
He was himself again.
'Of course,' he thought, 'yesterday was the second day. How could I have not realized it before?'
He changed out of his pajamas (he had taken to wearing his old ones during the transformation) and put on some boys' robes for the first time in days. Then, he charmed all of his belongings to leave the bathroom and sit next to his bed. He then proceeded to destroy the armchair. It was then that he discovered the papers stuffed under the cushion of it.
He pulled them out and read them, page by page. He was half-surprised, half in wonderment, and fully curious about what he had written. He laughed at the names he had called Lily--of which even included 'body snatcher'. As he read, he wondered why everything seemed in the wrong order: he would read something, but then read something that was worded as if the previous item had not yet happened. He turned to the last page, having read the previous three. It was there that he found reference to the kiss.
He wondered why he had been so angry because of the kiss; hey, it was a kiss, wasn't it? He should have been paying attention to what was going on. See if any sparks were happening. See if he was enjoying it. See if she was enjoying it.
He found himself remembering how it had happened. Trying to remember what had happened. He strained his memory, only remembering that he had been writing something. But what had it been?
He reached back into the crack between the cushion and found what he was looking for. He pulled out a sheet of parchment, full of flourished writing. He laughed then, realizing that it was his handwriting.
No, not his. It was Lily's handwriting.
His handwriting was all over the place, crossing out words and editing the paper with a silver ink that was translucent if the parchment was held at a certain angle. [lightning gelly rolls, anyone?] He read it over slowly, first the original in Lily's pen, then the edited version in his pen.
'Thoughts' by Lily Evans
My thoughts are alive
Always when I think
Sometimes I forget
But most times I remember
If I forget
And you know
Please remind me
I'll thank you, though
Work helps me grow
It'll help you too
Don't forget that
Because I know
'My thoughts' originally by Lily Evans and edited by James Potter
My thoughts are alive
When I am thinking
Sometimes I forget things
But at most times I remember
If I forget something
And you know it
Please remind me of it
I'll thank you, still
Words helps me grow
They'll help you too
Don't forget that
Just don't
'I can't write a poem' by Lily Evans
I can't write a poem
My hands are stuck
I'm just writing
And it's ending up like muck
I can't read it
Neither can you
Why am I trying
To come up with something out of the blue?
This isn't working
Stuff's supposed to happen
I'm not supposed to end up
Worse than when I started
Maybe I'll do something constructive
Jeez, I'm wasting my time
I better pack some stuff
For the unruly climb
Where am I going?
What shall I do?
Who knows except no one
Not even you
Hang on!
I think I've got it
I've written a poem
And it seems flawless
'Not a poet' originally by Lily Evans and edited by James Potter
I cannot write a poem
My brain is stuck
I am just writing
And it's ending up like muck
I can't read it
Neither can you
Why am I trying
To not think of food
This isn't working
Something is supposed to happen
I am not supposed to end up
In a worse state than when I had started
Maybe I'll do something constructive
I am really wasting my time
I had better pack some stuff
For the unruly climb to nowhere
Where am I going?
What shall I do?
Who knows except no one
Not even me
Hang on a moment
I think I have got it
I have written a poem
And it seems flawless
He realized that he liked Lily's versions better. And all the while, he just couldn't help thinking that he couldn't write poetry for crap.
* * *
A/N all poetry by none other than the one and only shana. ha, that's my email name. if you're on hotmail, just the 'the one and only...' part shows up and when u open it u find out who the one and only person is.
camp is this weekend!
James woke early the next morning.
The first thing he realized was that the window had failed to keep the breeze blowing towards him.
The second thing that he noticed was that Lily wasn't there.
The third thing he realized was that Lily was still in the infirmary.
The fourth thing he noticed was the most important, though.
He stood from the bed and walked to his bathroom. He stared straight ahead the whole time, thinking about the window and knowing what he would see in the mirror. So he did not look at himself as he turned on the faucet and washed his face, finally waking up fully.
It was then that he looked up at his face. And it was then that he shouted.
He was himself again.
'Of course,' he thought, 'yesterday was the second day. How could I have not realized it before?'
He changed out of his pajamas (he had taken to wearing his old ones during the transformation) and put on some boys' robes for the first time in days. Then, he charmed all of his belongings to leave the bathroom and sit next to his bed. He then proceeded to destroy the armchair. It was then that he discovered the papers stuffed under the cushion of it.
He pulled them out and read them, page by page. He was half-surprised, half in wonderment, and fully curious about what he had written. He laughed at the names he had called Lily--of which even included 'body snatcher'. As he read, he wondered why everything seemed in the wrong order: he would read something, but then read something that was worded as if the previous item had not yet happened. He turned to the last page, having read the previous three. It was there that he found reference to the kiss.
He wondered why he had been so angry because of the kiss; hey, it was a kiss, wasn't it? He should have been paying attention to what was going on. See if any sparks were happening. See if he was enjoying it. See if she was enjoying it.
He found himself remembering how it had happened. Trying to remember what had happened. He strained his memory, only remembering that he had been writing something. But what had it been?
He reached back into the crack between the cushion and found what he was looking for. He pulled out a sheet of parchment, full of flourished writing. He laughed then, realizing that it was his handwriting.
No, not his. It was Lily's handwriting.
His handwriting was all over the place, crossing out words and editing the paper with a silver ink that was translucent if the parchment was held at a certain angle. [lightning gelly rolls, anyone?] He read it over slowly, first the original in Lily's pen, then the edited version in his pen.
'Thoughts' by Lily Evans
My thoughts are alive
Always when I think
Sometimes I forget
But most times I remember
If I forget
And you know
Please remind me
I'll thank you, though
Work helps me grow
It'll help you too
Don't forget that
Because I know
'My thoughts' originally by Lily Evans and edited by James Potter
My thoughts are alive
When I am thinking
Sometimes I forget things
But at most times I remember
If I forget something
And you know it
Please remind me of it
I'll thank you, still
Words helps me grow
They'll help you too
Don't forget that
Just don't
'I can't write a poem' by Lily Evans
I can't write a poem
My hands are stuck
I'm just writing
And it's ending up like muck
I can't read it
Neither can you
Why am I trying
To come up with something out of the blue?
This isn't working
Stuff's supposed to happen
I'm not supposed to end up
Worse than when I started
Maybe I'll do something constructive
Jeez, I'm wasting my time
I better pack some stuff
For the unruly climb
Where am I going?
What shall I do?
Who knows except no one
Not even you
Hang on!
I think I've got it
I've written a poem
And it seems flawless
'Not a poet' originally by Lily Evans and edited by James Potter
I cannot write a poem
My brain is stuck
I am just writing
And it's ending up like muck
I can't read it
Neither can you
Why am I trying
To not think of food
This isn't working
Something is supposed to happen
I am not supposed to end up
In a worse state than when I had started
Maybe I'll do something constructive
I am really wasting my time
I had better pack some stuff
For the unruly climb to nowhere
Where am I going?
What shall I do?
Who knows except no one
Not even me
Hang on a moment
I think I have got it
I have written a poem
And it seems flawless
He realized that he liked Lily's versions better. And all the while, he just couldn't help thinking that he couldn't write poetry for crap.
* * *
A/N all poetry by none other than the one and only shana. ha, that's my email name. if you're on hotmail, just the 'the one and only...' part shows up and when u open it u find out who the one and only person is.
camp is this weekend!