Deflating

Chapter Eleven: Admittance is the First Step to Recovery

***

Lily received her mother's reply three days later, and was most displeased with it's contents:

My Darling Lily,

I am going to tell you something that you aren't going to like, but you have to hear it:

You don't need to "get rid" of anything. You need to embrace it.

James clearly likes you, and now that you've realized that the feeling is mutual, things can only get better, if you'll just let them. You are being stubborn, Lily, just like your father. If James is "pompous, spiteful" and whatever else you wrote, then why do you like him? He must have some redeeming qualities--focus on those, not on the bad things. No one is perfect, sweetheart, and James is no exception. You cannot expect him to be anything more than he is. Accept him as he is--he has for you.

Love always,

Mum

***

Lily stared at the letter in her hands disbelievingly for few moments before tearing it into halves, then quarters, then eighths and scattering the lot of it on her floor.

"My mother is impossible," Lily muttered.

"Why?" asked Charlotte from her bed, where she was flipping through Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7 lazily.

Lily was startled; she had quite forgotten Charlotte was even there. "Oh…nothing," she said, ducking her head so that her friend couldn't see her flushing.

"You've been doing a whole lot of nothing lately," Charlotte commented dryly. "D'you mind if I take a guess at what all this nothing concerns?"

"Go ahead," Lily said glumly, knowing that Charlotte would guess right off the bat.

"James Potter," she said matter-of-factly, echoing Lily's thoughts.

Slowly, Lily nodded.

Charlotte grinned and pushed her book off of her bed, replacing it with a pillow. "Spill," she ordered.
Sighing, Lily complied.

***

"Seriously?" Charlotte said, her voice hollow and soft when Lily had finished.

"Unfortunately," Lily replied.

Charlotte whistled. "So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

Charlotte chuckled disbelievingly. "Nothing?" she demanded. "Nothing?"

"That's right," Lily responded coolly.

"You don't do nothing in a situation like this!" Charlotte exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air exasperatedly. "This is what most teenage girls dream about!"

"What is that? A horrible prick claiming to be in love with them?"

"He is not a horrible prick--not anymore, anyway. He must really like you, by the way, to completely make himself over just to get your approval. But you like him, Lily, you do, even if you don't want to admit it."

"I did admit it," Lily reminded her sullenly. "I just wish I didn't like him, is all."

"Why?"

"Why?" Lily repeated. When Charlotte didn't reply, choosing instead to merely stare at her friend questioningly, Lily sighed and said, "Because James is…he's not the kind of boy I usually set my sights on."

"So? Variety is the spice of life, Lily!" Charlotte proclaimed, grinning.

"You're not getting it. I'm just…I just don't want him to turn me into one of his girls. I don't want to give in, allow myself to completely fall in love with him, and then have him break it off with me three months later because he got what he wanted."

Charlotte studied her friend. "He wouldn't do that," she said softly.

Lily laughed hollowly. "He would," she corrected. "He has before. James is one of those boys who likes the thrill of the chase. But then, once the chase is over, he gets bored."

"I told you, Lily," Charlotte began patiently, "he really likes you. I don't think he'd do that."

"But still," Lily said. "I can't let him have the chance."

"Even if it makes your life miserable?"

"I'll get over it before that," she declared.

Charlotte smiled. "Lily, I would really love to see you try."

***

Monday, 29 January

7:35 a.m.: After last Thursday's fiasco with Subject, I am worried about what she's going to do to me once she sees me. I have no idea why she's so upset: I kissed her, I didn't even try to use tongue, I told her I love her, I admitted to her that I knew I am a prick, and then apologized for kissing her.

I am doing everything right, and it's just backfiring in my face.

Have come to the logical conclusion that Subject is the most difficult girl on the planet.

Speaking of Thursday's fiasco, must remember never to leave this in the hands of Padfoot, lest he get antsy to fill his smartass quota in class again.

Maybe I should go back and read those romance novels…didn't one of her friends say that Subject really wishes some of that sappy stuff can happen to her?

I'll try that. I'll try the sappiest thing I can find.

Okay, new mission: Get Subject's Romance Novels Away From Her, or Project GSRNAFH, for short.

Note to self: create more witty, clever, and pronounceable name for Project GSRNAFH.

Also: be careful not to mention Project GSRNAFH in front of Padfoot-- he's forgotten about me reading those books over Christmas, but if he got wind of this, every person who ever attended this school will know.

***

Lily attempted to avoid James at all costs that day, but as most of the day was spent in his company in classes, most of these attempts were fruitless. Still, James seemed to be walking on eggshells around her as well, so both made it through the day without speaking to the other.

James spent most of the History of Magic class trying out new names for the Project (including Another Excuse to Rummage Through Lily's Things, My Last-Ditch Attempt at Becoming a Romantic, and Stalking Lily Evans: Part Two), none of which seemed very likely, as none of them were less than five words long, and none of them spelled anything coherent when abbreviated.

Lily spent that class writing a very lengthy and impatient note to her mother, inquiring about her general mental health and telling her that she meant every single adjective she had used to describe James Potter. She also included, without wanting to go into too much detail (she had not told her mother about The Kiss), that James himself agreed that he was a prick. "If that doesn't prove it to you," Lily wrote, "I really don't know what could."

The bell rang, and James leapt up from his chair, speeding out of the room after Sirius. Lily smiled as she remained in her desk, signing her letter. If she'd have known that all it took for James to avoid her like the plague was to tell him she didn't believe him, she would have done it a very long time ago.

Lily stood from her desk, took a few moments to hoist her bag securely, and just as she had it situated nicely on her shoulder, she dropped it.

That book--that curious, curious book--that James was always writing in…it was lying there on his desk, looking quite lonely.

As if a book could look lonely, Lily thought scornfully at herself. You're really losing it, Lily. Books are inanimate objects; they do not have expressions…

While this is certainly not true (there are certain books in the Hogwarts Library that can perform a Shakespearean sonnet for you, if you wish), Lily either didn't know or had forgotten. She inched closer to the book, her curious nature taking over.

Just…take it. Take it, and…and give it back to him next class! Yes, that's what I'll do…give it back to him. It's a nice gesture…he'll appreciate it…

And before she could stop herself, Lily took the book and slipped it into her bag before hurrying off to Potions.

***

James drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him, anxious for class to be over. He'd had an idea for a name for his Project (Romancing the Subject--it wasn't great, it wasn't clever, it wasn't nearly up to his usual standards, but it was something he could build off of), and he was desperate to scribble it in his Stalking-Lily-Evans-Journal. The Potions professor preferred practical lessons to written ones, so James couldn't whip out his book and pretend to be copying something down.

"You're rattling the eyes!" Sirius hissed accusingly, grabbing James's wrist to stop him from tapping the table.

"What?" James asked distractedly, genuinely confused.

Sirius pointed to the tiny tray of rattlesnake eyes that lay quite still on the table. James looked up at his best friend quizzically.

"They were quaking," Sirius said dismissively, releasing James's wrist. "Tremors…looked like they'd spill--"

"Right," James interrupted. "Right."

Sirius shot him a look, but turned back to the potion and added the rattlesnake eyes before James could threaten their existence any further.

***

"It's gone," James whispered hoarsely at dinner.

"What?" Remus asked, immediately alarmed. "The map?"

James shook his head. "Sirius has the map. My…my…"

"Manhood?" suggested Sirius, who had gone ashen face at James's insistence that he had the map and was now scavenging his own bag for the map.

Remus made a face; Peter sniggered, James didn't even look affected. "My book," he said quietly.

The faces of the remaining three Marauders fell.

***

A/N: ::grin:: Cliffhangers are fun.

I certainly have a thing for writing at all hours of the night…it's 1:00 a.m. again, and here I am, writing, because I know I won't be able to sleep until I finish this. I'm a sad, pathetic little thing, aren't I?

I have coined a term for my updating habits: compulsive updating syndrome. Yep, that's right: not only am I a compulsive drinker (I'll drink anything in front of me without realizing I'm doing it; 'cept alcohol, I'm not quite legal, thanks ;), I'm also a compulsive writer. ::sigh::