7 years later, James did not have to get Lily to pretend to be witch,
anymore.
For she was one. One of the smartest, more powerful of her age, in fact.
She understood about Transfiguration, and understood completely about Quidditch. She excelled in Charms, was top of the class in Care of Magical Creatures, and was right up there with even Severus Snape in Potions.
And she popular, as well as clever. Being a naturally happy person, Lily seemed to be loved by everyone.
Excluding the Slytherins of course, but. . . Who DID they like? Besides each other.
She was beautiful. Her messy plaits from her childhood had been exchanged for sleek, shiny straight locks that hung a few inches past her shoulder blades. With time, she had grown bored of the torn, comfy dungarees she could climb trees with, and substituted them for tight fitting jeans and a nice top.
Sure, she wasn't perfect. Who was? Her lower row of teeth were slightly crooked, due to the fact she had flat out refused to wear a brace two years ago, and her fingernails were awful. She never stopped biting them. There was also the deathly pale complexion of her skin that came with being a red head. She hated this, as she could never seem to tan.
But. . . James grinned to himself as he watched her on the stand at the front of the Great Hall. It was the last day of term, and as Head Girl, Lily was giving her speech.
To him she was gorgeous. Perfect. She looked amazing stood there, with her eyes twinkling, and that grin playing across her face as she spoke. . .
It seemed unbelievable to think that he could have lost her, that she might not have been a part of his life.
The two were still best friends. More, in fact. After a brief spat in the sixth year – when James had realised just how much he liked Lily, and decided to let her know it by becoming an arrogant git – the two had started dating about 8 months ago.
Yeah, he thought, unconsciously letting his hand wander to a ring box that was hidden deep in his robe pocket, for later that night. Lily meant the world to him.
And who was have thought – looking at her now, being applauded by the 7th years of Hogwarts, and laughing embarrassedly – that the little girl who was dying 7 years ago was the same woman who stood before him?
The same witch, who hoped to go on to become a great Auror, and was expected to exceed easily.
But he did help do that?
That one day, in the forest, with that little pocket knife. . .
Such a childish thing to do. A desperate hope, and the only thing he could come up with.
But was he the one to be thanked for Lily overcoming her illness miraculously, or was it all a coincidence that Lily was going to go on to go to Hogwarts anyway?
He just didn't know.
But he was damn glad he did it.
Because. . . Who knows?
Maybe he did help. Just that little bit.
For she was one. One of the smartest, more powerful of her age, in fact.
She understood about Transfiguration, and understood completely about Quidditch. She excelled in Charms, was top of the class in Care of Magical Creatures, and was right up there with even Severus Snape in Potions.
And she popular, as well as clever. Being a naturally happy person, Lily seemed to be loved by everyone.
Excluding the Slytherins of course, but. . . Who DID they like? Besides each other.
She was beautiful. Her messy plaits from her childhood had been exchanged for sleek, shiny straight locks that hung a few inches past her shoulder blades. With time, she had grown bored of the torn, comfy dungarees she could climb trees with, and substituted them for tight fitting jeans and a nice top.
Sure, she wasn't perfect. Who was? Her lower row of teeth were slightly crooked, due to the fact she had flat out refused to wear a brace two years ago, and her fingernails were awful. She never stopped biting them. There was also the deathly pale complexion of her skin that came with being a red head. She hated this, as she could never seem to tan.
But. . . James grinned to himself as he watched her on the stand at the front of the Great Hall. It was the last day of term, and as Head Girl, Lily was giving her speech.
To him she was gorgeous. Perfect. She looked amazing stood there, with her eyes twinkling, and that grin playing across her face as she spoke. . .
It seemed unbelievable to think that he could have lost her, that she might not have been a part of his life.
The two were still best friends. More, in fact. After a brief spat in the sixth year – when James had realised just how much he liked Lily, and decided to let her know it by becoming an arrogant git – the two had started dating about 8 months ago.
Yeah, he thought, unconsciously letting his hand wander to a ring box that was hidden deep in his robe pocket, for later that night. Lily meant the world to him.
And who was have thought – looking at her now, being applauded by the 7th years of Hogwarts, and laughing embarrassedly – that the little girl who was dying 7 years ago was the same woman who stood before him?
The same witch, who hoped to go on to become a great Auror, and was expected to exceed easily.
But he did help do that?
That one day, in the forest, with that little pocket knife. . .
Such a childish thing to do. A desperate hope, and the only thing he could come up with.
But was he the one to be thanked for Lily overcoming her illness miraculously, or was it all a coincidence that Lily was going to go on to go to Hogwarts anyway?
He just didn't know.
But he was damn glad he did it.
Because. . . Who knows?
Maybe he did help. Just that little bit.