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She was James'.
I mean, she wasn't marked or branded or anything silly like that but it was something you simply knew. Even when she was younger--even when she was eleven.
You knew they'd be the kind of family you hated.
Gorgeous. Happy. Perhaps rich, but that would just be icing. Icing for true love.
She came to all his Quidditch matches and blamed it on a 'fondness' for Quidditch and no one ever bought that. It was contradictory, it seemed as though she hated him, and she did a bit. She'd sit on the elevated bleachers, her cheeks flushed and a cup of warm team in her hand. Unlike most of the other students she didn't cheer loudly--merely watched and clapped primly. She'd come up to James after the game, smile and say: "Good flying, Mister. Potter."
He laughed. "Good watching, Miss. Evans."
There was very much so an understanding--a denial of sorts set up like a plan. Of course they were in love when they were younger. Of course they didn't know that it was called love back then. Of course they were friends. Of course they treated each other horridly.
She gave out her heart to other things. Books and hot coffee, snow-colored parchment and rainy days. Sirius, for his charm and Remus for his love. But it was to always be reserved for James. Always
There was a connection, an immediate bond, a feeling of timelessness. There was something there and be it hate or love they had to comb through that as they aged. But they always knew.
And in walked a young man--a young man so very unlike James and so very like James all in one. His name was Severus with shoes always unbuckled and cheeks always the colour of snow-like parchment. She disliked him instinctively for he was Slytherin.
And he was scum.
He really was, too. But she loved the lonely and loved the helpless. And perhaps part of why she did not like James was because he did not need her, he did not want her.
They talked rather briefly and rather quietly. In between corridors, in the middle of--wherever they were--during Potions, on the go. And she wrote him notes in that awfully cutesy way in which only she wrote.
'Meet you outside,' she wrote, 'at seven. Be there, won't you? I will be. Good luck on the Charms exam, I'm rooting for you. Don't mind James--I can take it. Later.'
He was there and they ran around in the snow. Rather, he was walking calmly and she was skipping and littering him with snow. James was inside most likely with the three others--or even at Hogsmeade, maybe. Good thing James wasn't here, he would quite think that Miss. Evans was flirting with Mister. Snape.
And she wasn't.
Well--not really.
He wasn't good looking and his personality was for absolute beans. It was trash. All of him was trash. And she hated those shoes of his, and she hated how extremely lonely he was--for that was his fault--she always thought. But he delighted in her and adored her, and he'd never say so.
You just don't say things like that. For she was James.'
It was hard to say what part of him she liked. Very hard to say indeed. And some say it was for his cynicism and his innate coldness that rushed through her veins as well. Some say it was because he wasn't James and she'd never be good enough for Sirius. Radicals often comment that he was her rock--her thing to be strong for--her thing to hang in there for.
It was hard to imagine him as anyone's rock especially hers.
James never knew. James never cared to find out. These were just early morning meetings with little romance in them.
She was James' after all. And he never did want anything of James.'
"I know," she whispered, "that everyone thinks that all I am is James.' And sometimes, I don't even have a name. Don't ask me why this started but it started, and forever and as long as I can remember it's been like this. Don't ask me if I like it--I don't. But I'm not his and there is no duty of mine to him."
He looked at her and blinked slightly. "He is good for you, Lily."
"It's all some sick trick," she laughed, "this whole 'good for you' junk, isn't it? James will get older and he'll realize he wasted seven years of his life pursuing this girl that he could never ever get. And then he'll realize he never really wanted her to begin with."
Severus sent her a glare and took a sip of cinnamon tea and looked out towards the distance. The sun was just now rising. The distance bathed in pumpkin-orange and parchment-yellow. "If it's anything to you--I think he'll always want you," he said finally with a short nod.
"No more of that 'forever' thing, Severus! Cut it out, will you? You'll make me go soft! James is kid. You wanna know something funny, Severus? He's liked me ever since first year and I looked at him--and I felt that too. I felt that sort of instant where I really did like him. And I've never felt that again. So it's over. It was some quick crush that only ends in heartache and it's over! And that's good! Closed that chapter--closed it for good...." she said and then trailed off as she took a sip of his tea.
"...tell me the story," he said, "read me the chapter."
"There's nothing between us," she said softly, "but that doesn't mean he won't always have my heart."
"You don't make any sense, Lily."
"This whole situation doesn't make any sense, Severus."
He nodded in agreement and two young children--only fourteen--sat on a shared stump looking out upon the dawn. Her scarlet hair, messy and tangled fell upon his shoulder and he put his hand next to hers. Not touching.
For she was James.' No matter what she ever said. Part of him pitied her--being so sold down the river and only a child. And part of him envied her--she was in love and she was just fourteen. He knew it'd work out between the two because she breathed that, she felt that deep inside of her like it was part of her nature.
As the sun rose and the quiet behind them startled the two a new age was born. A new point in time.
He would have to let go.
She was James.'
*