'And I don't want to go home right now
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
'Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight'
~ 'Iris' Goo Goo Dolls ((There's just something about that song...no lie))



Authors Notice: Yes, I'm here! Anyway. Not too much going on. But I like my Lucius/Lily ficlet. And I'd like to try it once more. So let's drink to it. ;)

The Famous Question--Answered! Am I a James hater as is usually assumed? I adore James, he's a cutie. He's this passionate person who doesn't come 'round much. However, as is always a however, he's quite an arrogant prat (part of the appeal, of course, but still) The Snape scene in book five--wow, that was intense and painful to read for anyone with a heart. But I was able to look past that and see this great guy who had an amazing wife and a lovely baby boy. **Doesn't mean he gets off the hook** It's rather clear that it wasn't "love at first sight" between the two.

Resources: Harry Potter Lexicon (even though I have it all in my head) It states that Lucius Malfoy was born in '54, so he started Hogwarts in '65. Lily was born in '60 so she started Hogwarts in '71. This means that when Lucius was a sixth year, she was a first year and when Lucius was a seventh year she was a second year.



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"So, it's like, if we weren't here and if it wasn't today would you still care for me?"

"Evans, if it were tomorrow and if we were in the stinkin' Catholic church I would still care for you." Calm conviction.

"That's...reassuring," giggling. Tired sarcasm.

Winking. "It shouldn't be."

So it's like life, really. You win some you lose some. You make some you defeat some.

And there it is. By the Whomping Willow as the world stays inside packed like sardines. Free as the rest live alone and together, and the difference is unknown. Wild and crazy. Tired and reckless.

She's very young. Twelve with emerald eyes and he's quite old--seventeen and one quarter with silver eyes like doves.

It's probably Wednesday, Friday, maybe. It's probably tomorrow over some place else, and it's probably yesterday in the Balkans. There's promise in the quiet voices and promise in the handshakes. There's hope in the clouds and hope in her eyes.

Perhaps May. The leaves upon the trees become sparse and the people in the trees fall from them. And it's like people falling from grace, really.

"You know, Evans, bet Potter's looking for you."

Picking tiredly at an overgrown weed, chewing on it. "I guess he'll have to look then."

"Why do you resist him so?"

"Oh, right. I'll just run into his arms, Malfoy. What kind of person are you? It's not like that with James. Actually, it's not like anything at all." Dignified. Temper.

"Do you love him?" Serious, pulling on a cloak.

Laughing silently. "I mean, it's like, I could have forever with Potter." Earnestly. "If that was what I wanted."

Eyebrow quirk. "'If that was what you wanted?'"

"Yes. See, I don't care how you think of me or how he thinks of us, but I'm not very old, Malfoy."

"You're twelve."

Indignant sputter.

"Very much so." Curt nod. "If I believed in that sort of thing I think I'd like James a lot. Like, very much so. I don't think I do. Isn't in my religion."

"What religion?" Laughing. Both pairs of eyes meet.

"The good one," honestly but with slight sarcasm.

"Which would be..."

"Be quiet."

So it's like when you bake a cake. And the cake crumbles but you still have the frosting to lick.

And it's like when the end is coming, but there's time for that last embrace.

Sun. Raining down upon them. Light. Sheltering them. Dark. Wanting them. Children. Calling their names. Letters. Begging to be read. Potter. Loving her. Malfoy. Trying to. Snow. Keeping them away. Age. The art of being young.

The art of being young.

"And I get it, Evans."

Two pale hands touch rough tree bark.

"Get what, Malfoy?"

"Your theory."

"No you don't." Rolling eyes. "And it's not a theory it's a fact." Mind you.

"--and it's not a cave it's a home!" Laughing, despite it all.

"You miss your folks. Yes--" despite the angry nod "--you do."

"But I don't." Emphasis.

"But you wish you could." Sparkling cider.

And he has a girl back at home. Which would mean Hogwarts. And he has a girl in his heart. Which would mean in actuality. And he's rather old. Which would mean he's seventeen and a quarter.

She's not a nice girl, not like Evans is, but this girl is especially not nice. This girl does not even look nice, really. Blond hair and blue eyes and it's whom he's set up to marry. Who he will marry, that means. He could rebel but he's much too tired and she's much too pretty. They've "gone out", which means "serious dating", since twelve. Evans age. It's odd when you put it like that but it's even more strange when you say that they fell in love back then. And it would've been said so, but it wasn't love more like...you know, caring deeply for. If that's what you call it.

The blond girl and the blond boy bicker constantly and it's very much a hate-hate relationship with holding hands stuck in the middle. As will always be in the middle. He thinks it's love but isn't sure and she knows it's love but isn't sure. And they're happy-- but they're not--and they're sane--but they're not. She doesn't know about Evans, goodness, it's a good thing.

And she'll never be lonely, Evans, because she'll always have the troublemaker and she'll always have Black. Who's really Potter's best friend. Which makes less sense in her head than it does in her heart. They'll keep her worn out and exhausted and happy and away from Malfoy. If they can, which they won't be able to.

"You know, the girl you're currently in love with is cousins with Black."

"Uh-huh. I'm well aware, don't remind me."

"Why not?"

"You didn't see the fight on the pitch? You need to get out more, Evans."

"Was it bloody?" Wincing slightly.

"Uh-huh."

"Why did you fight him?"

"Because I'm courting his cousin and he's horridly insane."

"Are you dating Narcissa or are you courting Narcissa?" Like a lawyer.

"Is there a difference?" Cold glare.

"Dating implies love and courting implies duty," quickly. "Plus, you've got to make it sound good, you know...dating, going steady. Not like 'courting.'"

"Courting. I'm courting her." Final.

"Can't imagine Black loathing you." Laughing. "You're only the most evilest man in all of the world."

"You're twelve--what do you know?"

"I'm twelve--what don't I know?"

She was the sort of arrogant that was very much so accounted for in the world. The regular type. She didn't have reason to be. With mediocre good looks and zero charm paired with high intelligence. With tangled scarlett hair and emerald eyes, tired robes. With a wink to die for and a glare to kill for.

Turning his world upside down. Putting it back in its place. Twirling it around with a pale finger.

So he graduates.

Which means goes on, which means moves on, which means leave. Which means that for is sort of lost in wishes and ever is sort of lost in secrets.

Been a long ride. Cheap ticket.

The light doesn't go 'way.

The carriages are coming. The people are rushing. The silence is immense. The coldness is surreal. The exhaustion is obvious.

There stands a girl.

Coming. Rushing. Immense. Surreal. Obvious.

He stands rooted with a girl on his arm. A pretty girl, maybe. With blond hair streaked with blue--don't ask. With silly red cheeks and dark eyes. She whispers in his ear, he laughs slightly, rolls his eyes and kisses her cheek. He holds up a finger and she begins to go towards the carriage, glaring behind her.

And there he walks over to the girl.

"Little Evans--still twelve. Oh--don't be that way--" seeing her glare "--you know it'll be good for you when I'm gone. No more corruption and evil and all of that."

"No more amusement," dryly. "Narcissa's looking for you."


"I guess she'll have to look then."

"I think I enjoyed the corruption," giggle. "I think I enjoyed you."

"Eh. You'll get enough of that from Potter. Do give the pathetic boy a chance. He's good for you."

"He's a prat."

"Good for you to know someone like that. Good for your perspective."

"That's crooked, then. To believe that, truly and fully."

"Truly and fully." Crosses ankles and lends her a hand.

"The carriages shall leave without you."

"Then I shall stay here till I die."

"Then you'll be miserable," simply.

"That's debatable," grin.

"What did you want to tell me?" Rushed.

"Nothing I didn't already tell you before, Evans."

"Good. Then go."

"Leaving. Right--"

"There isn't any unfinished business." Simply. "I mean--there never was between us."

"May I kiss you on the cheek?"

"You may kiss me on the lips. But Narcissa is watching and I don't want to be a rebel tonight." Laughing. Sarcasm.

"It's Potter's duty to kiss you often and good. Like you deserve. But it's mine to take care of you."

"And you have, Malfoy. And you have."

"Good, then, Evans. I need to go."

"And I think I may miss you."

"And I think you may have to."

"Goodbye, Malfoy."

"Goodbye, Evans."

Standing alone. She blows him a kiss, she waves to Narcissa. His bride. His fiancé. Proposed down near a shack somewhere in the Balkans, maybe. She doesn't know. Cocks his head, blows her a kiss back, Narcissa run towards him. Embraces her. Kisses her well. Sets her back upon her feet.

Evans watches the display with glimmer in her eyes and doesn't turn her back on the scene.

Like in Hollywood, she thinks. Like in the picture shows, she wonders.

The two grasp hands and walk quickly to the carriages together,

Like in the Balkans.


*

End.