Chapter 1: Moving On (Badly)
JAMES
James noted the sun rising over the hill after making his fifth shot in a row. He sighed and willed his broom to the ground.
Barely an hour of practice, even though he still had time till he needed to leave for Kings Cross Station.
He had spent every morning practicing Quidditch after receiving his Hogwarts letter; with his newly minted Quidditch Captain pin.
Sirius had practiced with him most mornings earlier in the summer—back when James was practicing only about three times a week. Once his letter arrived in the mail, James had become even more militant in his practice schedule: every morning for at least an hour before sunrise.
The sunrise practices weren't his idea. He lived in Godric's Hollow, an almost entirely magical community. Almost, being the keyword. Since his Muggle neighbors might raise an eyebrow if he flew around in broad daylight, he practiced before five am to fly under the radar (pun fully intended).
Sirius had been a good sport about it when James asked him to practice three times a week. After all, he was a Beater on the Gryffindor team; he needed to practice too. Once James suggested practicing every day, Sirius adamantly put his foot down.
"Mate, there is no way," he had said before promptly flopping his head back onto his pillow and passing out.
Granted, the request may have gone over better if he broached the subject any time other than the crack of dawn. Sirius still practiced with him three times a week while James practiced by himself the other four days.
James trudged over to his makeshift goalposts and began to take them down. It was less fun playing without Sirius—he could only run drills and practice shots. With Sirius, they were able to play one-on-one. Sirius was none too thrilled with this either.
"I'm a Beater; I need to be beating!" he said one time while they put up the goalposts.
"You can always practice hitting things in the daylight, you don't need to fly for that!" James huffed, uprighting one of the goalposts. Though they were heavy as a responsibility, they weren't nearly tall enough to count as standard height. The rings were also too small but James figured that could only help more than hurt. Better for aim.
"You can always throw a basketball through a Quidditch hoop in the daylight, you don't need to fly for that," Sirius bit back.
"You very well know we can't set Bludgers free," said James. "Besides, you get to practice flying either way."
Though he liked to pretend to be annoyed, Sirius seemingly enjoyed their early morning quidditch games (at least in moderation). Since he arrived at Godric's Hollow, he had a lightness to his manner. It was unusual.
Sirius usually got surlier as summer break drew closer. It was not too noticeable since most students were a bit moodier around exam times. After exams, he fell into sharp contrast with his peers. Their moods lightened; his mood only got worse.
James had surmised that it was probably because the Blacks (at least the branch most related to Sirius) were terrible. James had written to his parents asking if Sirius could visit over the summer while alluding to Sirius' family's terribleness. His parents wrote back the next day urging him to invite him for the whole summer.
Sirius had been coy that first summer, insisting on only a week-long visit. James now realized that he hadn't wanted to burden them. James invited him the following summer and he stayed an additional week. In their 5th year, he'd stayed two months. Now, his family visit was more of a formality before spending the majority of his summer at the Potters.
So Sirius put up with playing one-on-one Quidditch three times a week before the crack of dawn quite happily.
James rolled the dolly he brought with him to the field to load up the three makeshift goalposts. He realized that he was still wearing his goggles and tore them off disorienting himself. They were night vision goggles. He bought from Quality Quidditch Supplies once he joined the Gryffindor team. They were bloody necessary for nighttime practices and games. In the daylight, they seemed to have the opposite effect.
It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the lightened landscape. Then he fished around in his jacket pocket for his usual glasses. A stylish pair he bought from a Muggle shop.
He looked at them for a minute and contemplated charming them for night vision. He immediately orphaned the idea. There were the logistics of having them functional in both daytime and nighttime.
Once back home, he finished—really started—packing. He climbed up and down the stairs to collect items left strewn around the house over three months.
Everyone was up and packing after James threw open a cabinet one too many times. He also started a frantic search for his cat Mabel. He finally found the orange thing in a flowerbed and stuffed her into a carrier (not without a few scratches). Once they were all packed up, it was time to leave.
They called for the Knight Bus. It came to pick them up and overflowed with Hogwarts students and their families.
James stared outside its window at the rapidly changing landscape. The driver Ernie bused them around at breakneck speed, picking up more students. Sirius clutched the handgrip while determinedly staring at the ceiling, likely fighting off motion sickness.
There was always a bittersweet quality to the end of summer for James. It was bitter because he enjoyed the long sprawl of time to do whatever he pleased. He liked spending time with his parents. Since Sirius spent most of the summer in Godric's Hollow, they regularly flooed to Peter and Remus. As a result, he didn't even miss his friends all that much.
The parts he missed from Hogwarts were—well, Hogwarts itself. The old stone walls and passageways. The Great Hall with its long tables laden with food. Hell, even the bloody classes.
He also missed Quidditch. Most keenly, he missed being able to play Quidditch whenever he wanted.
The final thing he missed was—James abruptly cut off his musings.
No! Not today Voldemort.
The Knight Bus dropped them off in front of King's Cross Station. James and Sirius had already said their goodbyes to his parents at home. They trotted off to the platform with no fanfare.
He and Sirius stood in front of the platform entrance: a brick column. They queued behind a group of students waiting their turn. All the Muggles passed by, not giving a single thought to the congregation of children and their caged wildlife. The train station was teeming with Muggles, so the queue moved slowly.
James and Sirius were in the back.
By waiting, James' mind naturally wandered.
He had tried to keep her from his thoughts the entire summer. He and Sirius spent most of the break playing chess, playing gobstones, reading, practicing Quidditch, building Quidditch posts, rebuilding Quidditch posts, traveling to meet Peter, trying hallucinogens, traveling to meet Remus, and making a motorcycle from scratch. The point was that Sirius was very good at helping him keep distracted.
It was the reason they became such good friends; they both thought of endless ways to keep themselves entertained and egged each other on to go through with their most outrageous ideas. With Sirius, he was (mostly) safe from thoughts of her.
At the start of summer, the two weeks without Sirius, he was in the gravest danger of thinking of her. He distracted himself through any means.
At one point, he was desperate enough to do homework. At another point, he was desperate enough to complete it.
Even the extra credit.
The week before summer break he had decided to stop caring about her. Hence, his desire to stop thinking of her. It was not his first attempt. Every year he tried the same thing and inevitably failed for one reason or another. He'd tried dating other people. When his first relationship in the fourth year didn't progress like relationships were supposed to, he got dumped. In his second relationship, he still didn't feel it. That time, he was the dumper.
He wasn't stupid. He knew the cause.
There was always a small lizard part of his brain that hoped Lily Evans liked him back.
He had tried his damnedest to extinguish it but it was merciless. Last year, he came up with a hypothesis: his hope persisted as long as she never explicitly rejected him. True he'd tried subtle feelers.
He flirted with her: she replied dryly or ignored him. He sent flowers without a note: she gave them to a friend. She dated other people and even seemed to not hate them.
Combined, they seemed like pretty blatant signs of disinterest but then there were other things. Slithers of interaction that his brain prized.
In Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, people were partnering for work: she asked to be his partner. He made a joke in class: she laughed at it loudly. It wasn't always her reaction; she sometimes scowled depending on the joke. Her friends would tease her about James' crush—unfortunately, the entire school was aware of his fixation—and she blushed furiously.
Everything was very murky up until last year. Remus was evidently at the end of his rope after hearing James prattle on about her one too many times. He snapped.
"Please James, just ask her on a date," Remus pleaded while bent over his Defense Against the Dark Arts notes. Again, to his credit, it was the night before their OWL.
He was taken aback. He limited his Lily-talking quota to only once a month because he knew it annoyed them. Hell, it annoyed him as well. Remus had always been lukewarm about his obsession. He never affirmed it or told him to shut up; up till that moment at least. It had reached a critical point.
"That's what I've been saying," said Sirius. "I think she might already know anyway."
That had been true enough on both counts. Unless she was secretly very stupid, Lily probably had some inkling of his interest. Sirius also had always insisted that James ask her out. Uncomprehending to why anyone would hesitate to ask out the person they liked. Then again, self-awareness wasn't one of his famed attributes.
It was well known enough that the Marauders had their shorthands—their branding if you will. When a friend group was famous/notorious enough to have perfect strangers collectively refer to them by moniker, they began to form an idea of what they were like.
James was the funny one who rocked at Quidditch.
Remus was the smart one with a violent pet rabbit.
Peter was the short one who was also ugly (rest in peace Peter—school children could be so cruel).
Sirius was simply the hot one.
The thing was, Sirius wasn't even bad at Quidditch or stupid. He was just so hot that it eclipsed every one of his other characteristics.
So when Sirius said something like…
"Come on mate! Just ask her out, what's the worst that can happen?"
James knew that the worst thing that could happen to Sirius was not the same worst thing that could happen to himself. He had always known this to a degree before. He knew this for a whole 360 degrees after asking Lily out very publicly.
Hours after his conversation with Remus and Sirius, James stayed up late that night looking at the dying embers in the Gryffindor common room's fireplace. It was two or three am and the room was empty. Barring a few of his fellow 5th years passed out surrounded by OWL study guides. They were terminal so for all intents and purposes it was empty.
He was weary and his state of mind was getting affected by the ambiance set by the fading fire.
He knew that it had to end; his annoying crush on Lily Evans.
It had been five years without any clear sign that she was interested in him. Remus, Sirius, and his conscious mind agreed that the situation had gotten out of hand.
Before, when he tried dating other people and it didn't work out, he wondered if there was some subconscious block related to his self-esteem preventing him from moving on. So he tried dating himself. He journaled, took aromatic baths, and ignored women. By the end of the experience, he had a very embarrassing collection of journal entries— which he burned —along with a rash which was a souvenir from a flirtation with essential oils.
He also still hadn't gotten over Lily Evans.
He had tried riding out the crush but it was relentless. He had tried thinking of her till he was sick of it—but never sick enough. He had tried not thinking of her. He had tried throwing himself into hobbies. The only avenue he hadn't pursued was facing it head-on. Maybe his musings were correct; perhaps he wanted to prolong his crush because he couldn't face the possibility of being rejected by her. He needed a definitive answer of yes or no.
A yes would allow his ember of hope to grow into a full flame of happiness.
A no would finally stamp it out.
At that moment, the Gryffindor fireplace went out and James was cloaked in complete darkness. It was very cinematic.
After making up his mind, James bided his time to strike at the perfect moment: 12 hours later.
It was right after their Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL. He'd planned it that way. More truthfully, he'd mentally been planning it for several years.
Ideally, it would have been right after winning the Quidditch House Cup. He would be hoisted upon the shoulders of an adoring crowd while holding up the quidditch cup. The crowd would cheer and he'd search out for Evans. She would be clapping and laughing along with everyone else. Their eyes would lock; she'd stop clapping and look at him with passion. At that moment, she would realize she was in love with him. He'd somehow land exactly in front of her (the Quidditch House Cup would conveniently disappear) and he'd say…
"Hey, Lily. I've been thinking; you and me? It's about time—"
Then she'd cut him off, planting her lips onto his like a dementor suckering the soul out of a condemned prisoner.
Since the House Cup had already passed (Gryffindor won it of course) and the end of the year was impending he'd improvised.
He walked out of the Great Hall surrounded by his best friends—Sirius, Remus, and Peter. The general mood was buoyant. Sirius was over the moon because another exam was over with. Remus was pleased because he'd guessed that he'd absolutely murdered the last exam. Peter was—well... not in that great of a mood. He'd done poorly on his exam and James had snapped at him about something.
Although it was not a great excuse, James was barely sentient enough to keep track of the ongoing conversation.
He was vibrating in anticipation of the task he needed to complete. He and his friends walked out to the lawn in front of the lake. James assumed most of the 5th years would be there including Evans.
When they sat down under a tree, he felt like passing out. What was the use of all the confidence gathered from being cool, having wicked hair, and being great at Quidditch if it didn't come in handy doing the only thing that mattered?
He took out a Snitch from his pocket and dicked around with it. He let it fly a few feet and snatched it back before it got too far away. Then he did it again and again for four minutes.
Maybe Evans would be intrigued enough by his Quidditch skills to come over and talk to him? What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn't even a Seeker! How did the Snitch even get in his pocket? At the very least Peter seemed to enjoy the display and goaded him on to continue.
James' eyes glanced over at all the groups close by before locking onto a figure by the lake with long red hair.
Right, there was no way he could do it. He just wasn't cut out for it. The sorting hat had gotten it wrong by putting him in Gryffindor. He knew in his very heart of hearts that if he walked over to Lily Evans, he'd throw up on her. He belonged in Slytherin. No, worst—Hufflepuff.
He put the Snitch back into his pocket after Sirius complained. Peter looked disappointed. Then a figure emerged from behind a cluster of trees. It took only a millisecond for James to realize who it was.
Severus Snape: formally known as Snivellus. The aspiring Death Eater. James nudged Sirius to get his attention. Sirius spotted Snape and smiled wickedly.
"All right, Snivellus?" James started, then spotted Snape reaching for his wand.
It wasn't for naught that James Potter was able to snatch Snitches with ease despite being a Chaser; he had lightning reflexes. He and Sirius had Snape's wand flying and himself flat on the ground before a curse could even leave his lips. The people in nearby groups turned to watch their scuffle with interest.
"How'd the exam go, Snivelly?" Said James, warming up to a taunt about Snape giving his exam penguin kisses.
"I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment," Sirius added. "There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word."
James couldn't help but mentally applaud Sirius' quickness; to add the bit about the grease marks was really a stroke of genius.
They taunted him a bit more and James used Scourgify to clean his mouth: all run-of-the-mill.
"Leave him alone!"
It was Evans. Miraculously, after jinxing Snape a bit, James' nerves had settled.
"All right, Evans?" he said smoothly.
"Leave him alone," Lily said again. "What's he done to you?"
"Well…"— Other than jinxing me every chance he gets and aspiring to kill Muggles , James diplomatically went with—"it's more the fact that he exists if you know what I mean…"
People laughed, James laughed; It was a good time.
"You think you're funny," she said. James did think he was a bit funny but so did everyone else. It felt less conceited and more like acknowledgment. "You're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."
Feeling considerably less jittery and with a stroke of inspiration, James decided to complete his mission.
"I will if you go out with me, Evans. Go on… go out with me, I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again," James paused. Lily didn't plant a kiss on him.
"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid."
Sirius had started to say something; Snape threw a curse at James' face. He felt blood drip down his cheek. He flicked his wand to suspend Snape in the air. Levicorpus: He took particular pleasure in casting it because he knew it pissed Snape off to have one of his curses used against him. Well, he shouldn't have used a damn cutting curse.
Lily yelled at him, so he let down Snape. Then Sirius jinxed Snape once more. Lily yelled more and pointed her wand at them. James sighed and counter-cursed Snape.
"You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus—"
"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"
James, Lily, Sirius, and the people spectating all fell silent: a line had been crossed.
"Fine, I won't bother in the future and I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus," Lily responded woodenly.
"Apologize to Evans!" James shouted at Snape.
The recent series of events, the cut on his cheek, the rejection, and—most ardently—the slur did away with his usual careless demeanor.
"I don't want you to make him apologize," Lily shouted, rounding on James. "You're as bad as he is."
James was flabbergasted.
"What? I'd never call you a—you-know-what," he sputtered back.
"Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch"—he knew the Snitch had been a bad idea—"walking down the corridor and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can—I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me sick."
It was probably the longest he'd heard Evans yell at anyone. She turned away.
"Evans! Hey Evans!" He called after her. Realizing that everyone was looking at him, he tried for a quick recovery. "What is it with her?"
"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate," said Sirius while James glared at him.
He shrugged back, clearly not apologetic. Sirius had a terrible bedside manner. As a compromise, they turned back around to continue jinxing Snape.
As time passed and the adrenaline from the day had worn off, James fully digested the series of events that had unfolded. Snape was a blood supremacist prick—news as old as time.
In new news: Lily didn't want to date him. Unless the giant squid was privately a tantalizing sexual savant, he was very far down her list of suitors.
He was humiliated, sad, and hopeless; also just a little bit relieved. He faced his fear of being rejected by Lily Evans head-on. He was still a Gryffindor and now had no mental blocks preventing him from forgetting all about her.
He finished his OWLs, packed his bags, and went back home to a summer of freedom.
He got up in the morning, went down to breakfast, and picked up a slice of bread to make toast and thought…
Lily likes toast, but she prefers marmalade to butter. I wonder what she's doing right now?
James abruptly stopped his buttering, horrified. Why in the Muggle-God was his first conscious morning thought on Lily Evans' toast preferences? Why did he care what she was doing? It was 4:30 in the morning. She was probably in deep REM and not thinking of Him!
He chalked it up as a one-off and hoped that the passage of time would help.
Then he read something poetic in a book and thought…
Hmm… Evans would probably like this.
He dropped the book, again appalled with himself.
Unfortunately, due to his fixation, he'd gathered a lot of intel about her over the years. In the beginning, it had been deliberate. He'd either ask her something directly if they were sitting together in class or someone else would say something about her in the passing and he'd pay it extra attention.
He'd learned that she was very smart of course, everyone knew that she was smart, but she was also creative.
In Transfiguration class, when they were supposed to turn a quail into a teapot, she got her transformation done early. Unlike most early birds, that talked to friends or worked on homework, she'd keep at it till the teapot turned into something beautiful. She made little ceramic vines grow on the body of it.
Towards the end of his third year, he realized that gathering this information made his Evans problem worse. So he stopped.
Try as he might, he still learned things about her. She wore orange three weekends in a row and his subconscious would keep track of it. Then one day he'd wake up and realize that he knew her favorite color was burnt orange.
James just couldn't stop himself from noticing her and he was resigned to it.
That was, until this last summer. He went back to one of the oldest Lily-thought-avoidance tactics in his book: keeping extremely busy. It hadn't worked before but frankly, he was out of options.
Now here he was, after running into platform nine-and-three-quarters, watching her red hair flutter in the distance as she leaned in to hug a friend.
What made the experience more harrowing was spotting a sallow face in the distance rung with waxy black hair. Severus Snape. He looked in the same direction and sported the same glum expression on his face.
James really hated it here sometimes.
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