Disclaimer: C chappie #1.
Chapter 10- She doesn't See:
"Why in the hell does she always run!" he gasped, jolting from his sleep.
"Because she doesn't like you," Sirius groaned, turning his head and falling back into the realm of the subconscious.
"Shut up ya' bugger," he groaned, pulling open the curtains to his four poster and struggling out of bed.
It was the third time that week that he'd woken up to that exact dream and recited those exact same words. He didn't understand what it was about him that repelled her so. Every other girl in the school swooned at his feet. They flirted with him in the corridors, they gossiped about him in the loos and they made out with him in abandoned classrooms. But she did not. To her, he not worth her time. She hated him and always took the chance to make it known. She thought she was better than him, would never agree with him, for some reason he was the bane of her existence, and he didn't understand why.
Scratching his bare chest, he tugged some socks on his feet and exited the dormitory.
He'd done this every night since the full moon. Sitting across from the fire, he bathed in the feeling of its warmth licking his skin enticingly as he stared into its depths, trying to understand Lily Evans in his head.
He knew from their first meeting he'd been a jerk to her, but that had tapered off when they'd become friends. After she'd found out about Remus they'd both turned a new leaf. He stopped playing rudimentary pranks on her and she tolerated his presence. Then the summer of fifth year happened and he realized that he was in love with her. From that day on he'd made it known to everyone that Evans would someday be his, but for some reason, she wouldn't give him the time of day.
He'd asked her out a myriad of times, hell, he even kissed her on her sixteenth birthday, and yet she still hated him. He watched as she dated other boys. He watched as she got her heart broken. Sometimes it was he that would sit beside her and help her glue the pieces back together, but no matter how sweetly he treated her, no matter how hard he tried to convey his true feelings for her, she never gave him a chance.
When he entered the common room he found it empty, save for Skye, Sunny's sister, who was intently painting off to the corner.
Skye looked a lot like Sunny. Hell, all the Benoire girls looked like the perfect woman only found in fantasies. Her wide eyes were the same stormy blue gray as her sisters (although hers were masked behind wire rimmed glasses); her eyelashes so long they looked coincidentally as if they were reaching to touch the sky. She had the classic Benoire nose, and beautifully curved Benoire lips. Her long ebony hair was usually pulled at the top of her head, with a few long strands falling over her eyes- which she tucked behind her ears.
Everyone who saw her immediately drew the conclusion that she was Sunny's twin sister. But everyone who knew them knew just how different the two were.
Skye was quiet. Her world wasn't of facts, but rather muddled in a hurricane of feelings. She hung out with her friends, Gia Briggs, Jordan Adan and Venus Andopolis, but she was usually found sitting alone in the corner of the common room painting as she listened to the Wailing Widows (an old witch group).
At the moment, Skye was softly humming "It must have been Magic" quite badly as she leaned on her elbows and studied the painting before her. Her long, thin body was clad in paint doused overalls, he imaged her Mum made her wear after getting tired to cleaning paint stains. Her hair was tied away from her face with a blue bandana to escape the paint, he guesses, but there was still a strand of hair with white paint on the tip. And she held a paint laden brush between her teeth as she scrutinized the painting.
"Hey Skye," he said finally, not wanting to be rude.
But apparently the spell she'd placed on herself omitted all other sounds because she didn't even bat an eyelash in recognition.
Coming up behind her, he himself surveyed the painting. Staring into the piece, with her back to him he wasn't ashamed to admit he didn't get it. It was a myriad of colors placed strategically on the canvass, but it didn't seem to come together to form a central theme. There were browns and greens and reds and purples, but he didn't understand how they fit together, how they conformed to her idea.
"Hey Skye," he said again, this time placing a hand on her shoulder.
As soon as his hand brushed against her skin, she started, literally jumped out of her seat and tumbled to the floor, effectively getting a nice brushstroke of orange just above her brow.
"Damnit!" she gasped trying to catch her breath as she struggled back into her seat, still clutching her heart. "Don't you ever do that again!"
"I'm sorry," he grinned, liking the way her eyes seemed to grow wider and her face opened like a flower, effectively showing her anxiety.
She blinked her eyes hard, and sort of nodded her head. Then she turned back to him, her breathing still slowing itself down.
"What'd you just say?"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
"Whatever, so why are you down here?"
"That's a nice painting." He replied trying to change the subject.
"Nice try, if you don't understand it, at least ask me to." She grinned, her breathing back to normal as she retrieved a towel from her back pocket and cleaned off her brush with it.
"You've got some paint on your face."
"Where?" she asked, beginning to wipe her cheek down with the hard, dry towel.
"Not there, there." He pointed, but she still got the wrong spot. After many moments of trying, he just gave up and took the towel from her hands.
"Here," he announced as he gingerly wiped the substance from her skin.
"Thanks," she whispered as she moved away from him.
"So, I don't understand the painting."
"Look closer."
He moved closer to the canvas, but it still seemed muddled together; a heterogeneous of colors and shapes.
"I still-"
"Closer." She replied.
And then he saw it. Among the colors and shapes, he found people; dancing. Their bodies moved around the canvass like poetry, each movement a story in itself, each person an idea. They flowed like water into one another, their bodies contorted in beautiful poses, their faces masked in determination. Their colors were a storyteller, a long, red scarf linking them all together. They revealed something he didn't think he'd see.
"It's made so you don't understand. The most important lessons in life were created that way. You're not supposed to understand, but learn from your mistakes and attempt to understand later. Some people never understand. They never take the time to sit down and just be. They're afraid, always rushing, afraid to be alone, afraid to think, afraid to feel. They won't ever understand life."
He looked back at her. She was wiping her hands clean with the towel while staring into the canvass.
He arose to the loud crash of someone stumbling to the floor around him. Sitting up, he opened his eyes to reveal him still sitting inside the common room, the only remnants of the night before was Skye's painting, standing on her easel for everyone to interpret and the crackling fire.
And at the moment, Lily was standing in front of it, her nose almost pressed against the still wet piece of material as she stared into it. She stood there for a few moments with furrowed brows before she lifted herself upright and muttered to herself:
"I don't get it."
And he realized something. No matter what he did, Lily would never care about him in the way that he needed her to. She didn't want him and never would, so what use was there to try anymore?
. . . And that was the day that James Potter had finally given up on Lillian Evans.
". . . Ashley and Jacob, have you tightened up your feint?"
"Yes," they groaned, hoping she had forgotten.
"Ok, gather your brooms and let's get out there." Fly smiled almost deliriously at the rest of her team.
When they'd gotten out to the pitch, he wasn't surprised to see that Lily wasn't there. But he did see Remus and Sunny sitting next to one another and Peter off to the side.
Remus and the rest of the Marauders had apologized to Sunny and Delia a few days ago. All that was left was for James to apologize to Lily and all would be fine . . . except he wasn't going to.
He didn't care anymore- or that was at least what he kept trying to convince himself. He wasn't going to bend backwards anymore for someone who refused to acknowledge him and never cared about him in the first place. Apologizing to Lily would be a waste of his time because in another two weeks they'd be fighting again; it was finally her time to apologize.
With the piercing of Professor Montgomery's whistle, they were off and James's mind was focused totally on the game.
"Great job Potter," some Hufflepuff smiled and pat him on the back.
He nodded in acknowledgement and continued on his way towards Gryffindor tower, seeking his four poster for an afternoon nap.
As soon as he climbed up the portrait hole, a deafening cheer erupted from the Gryffindors and he immediately held back a groan. Standing in the middle of the group holding a butterbeer was Sirius with the other Gryffindors, celebrating their defeat of the Ravenclaws, 200 to 10.
"Hey James," Sirius called from the crowd, one of his arms around Fly's shoulders as he rocked back and forth to one of Lily's records.
"I'm going to take a nap," he called over the music, struggling to make his way over to the boys' dormitory.
"Anything wrong?" he asked, watching James's weary face as he reached the door.
"Just tired," he replied before disappearing behind the door.
As soon as the large door was closed, the loud music was muffled and he sank down onto the first step, his head banging as if trying to open itself up from the inside out. He looked up and groaned. There were way too many stairs from the common room to his dormitory. This was one of the times when he wished he could Apparate, but that had to wait until the end of the year.
With a grunt he lifted himself from the stair and began to trudge up the staircase, cursing whoever hadn't thought of putting in the moving stairs like Dumbledore's office.
As soon as the door swung open, he spotted Lily sitting on the floor beside Sirius's bed, rummaging through some of his stuff staring right back at him.
"Sorry," she mumbled, putting everything back, "Sirius said I could borrow some stuff and I . . . I didn't know . . . so, did you guys win?"
"You weren't there." He stated.
"I'm never there." She shrugged looking up at him with her legs crossed Indian style.
"Well then why do you want to know who in the fuck won?" he snapped.
"Wow." She exclaimed, jumping up from the floor. "I wasn't fucking asking if you got laid last night- which obviously you didn't- it was just a simple question."
"Well pose that question to someone else on the bloody team and get the hell out!"
"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you PMSing or something?" she asked with arms akimbo.
"Nothing is wrong with me, now may you please leave, I'm a little tired."
"No, why in the hell did you just snap at me, I didn't do anything."
"Just fuck off," he mumbled climbing into his four poster and closing the curtain behind him.
But Lily was ready for the confrontation. In seconds she was behind him wrenching the curtains open and yelling at him.
"Who the fuck do you think that you are?"
"Who do you think you are?" James asked, shooting up from his lying position, his face only millimeters from hers.
"I asked first, you're the one that started this in the first place."
"I didn't start this. You started this one."
"And how did I do that?" she asked, screaming at him.
"What the fuck is so wrong about me?" he mimicked her tone, flecks of spit flying in her face.
"I don't know, ask yourself."
"Well you seem to have it pretty much down. Every girl at this school would love to go out with me, and yet you'd rather die. What is it about ME Lily that repels you so? Why am I off limits? Why can you date everyone at this damn school, my friends and even Muggles before you date ME?"
She blinked once, twice, three times before she seemed to understand.
"That's what this is about?" she whispered, moving back a step.
"When it comes down to Lily and James that's always what it's about."
"But . . . I- I thought we went over this already?"
"Refresh my memory." He breathed, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"James," she frowned, settling herself on the floor before him. "I have nothing against you . . . I've just never seen you that way."
"Lily, you've never seen me in any way."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm not your friend, I've never been, all I've ever been was that guy you've got to tolerate because Sirius, Remus and Fly like me. I'm just there to you. You've never cared, never wanted me there anyway. It doesn't matter if I live or die. I'm nothing to you, so how could you have seen me at all?"
"It's not like that James," she shook her head. "I always trusted you. You were there for me when I needed you and I always thanked you for that."
"Yeah, but when I need you you're never there for me. Hell, when I'm there for you, you completely forget about it by the next morning. You barely even acknowledge me as a human being, hell you've even told me that part to my face!"
"You can't do that?"
"Can't do what?" he laughed.
"Can't take what I say when I'm mad to heart. You can't trust what I say to you when I'm upset!"
"Lily, the only times that we speak to one another are when we're upset! Hell, the only times we're ever civil to one another are when we're apologizing. If you really do BELIEVE that we're friends, then we've got a pretty fucked up relationship if the only times we ever converse are in times of strife."
"We do have a pretty fucked up friendship."
"No, we've got a pretty fucked up relationship. We're 'friends by association.' In all these five years, you still introduce me to your parents as an acquaintance. Damnit, my parents get you a fuckin' present for both your birthday and Christmas! Hell, your parents barely know I exist. You still introduce me as a 'ragamuffin.'"
"So this is about how I introduce you all of a sudden?"
"No, that's confirmation as to how you see me. I bet you chucked that bracelet out the window the moment you found it, huh?"
"No," she whispered, staring into her hands.
"Well you should have," he whispered, looking down at her. "Then you would have realized what everyone already knows."
"And what's that?" she asked looking him in the eye.
"That James Potter is just an insignificant pest to you and won't ever mean a goddamn thing."
"James," she whispered standing up, moving towards him.
"Get the fuck away from me, Lily. Don't you even try to touch me!"
"You don't get it, that's not how I see you at all-"
"So, instead of insignificant it should have been non-existent?" he snapped, standing up.
"James," she pleaded.
"Clean up the mess you've made." He said before exiting the room and hurtling down the stone steps, out of the dormitory and later out of the school.
"Hey Skye," he whispered climbing through the portrait hole.
"Hi James," she smiled, taking a sip of her water, and looking over at him.
"What are you doing here again?"
"Looking for some quiet."
"Everyone wondered what happened to you when you ran out of here like a bat out of hell."
"Is that your subtle way of asking what happened?"
"You know me so well, James Potter," she smiled turning around and straddling her seat.
"I decided to take a nap in a quieter place."
"Like away from Lily Evans?"
"Exactly." He grinned, pushing his hair away from his forehead.
"We saw her leave the dorms a few minutes after you left. We guessed it was another fight."
"Yeah, another fight. . ."
"What's this one about?"
"The same as the others; I'm through with her."
"Oh?" she asked raising a brow.
"Shut up, it's not like I say this once everyday. It's over. I'm friends with the Marauders and Sunny and Fly. But she's just there; I'm not going to acknowledge her anymore. She's my friends' friend."
"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Doesn't matter if it's wise, it just matters that I'm happy."
"Are you happy knowing that you'll never be with her?"
"I've never been with her, so it's not like I won't live."
"Your call James Potter, your call," she smiled before returning to her new painting.
"Goodnight Skye."
"Bye Potter." She replied behind him.
TBC . . .
A/N: For all of uz that wanted them to get together, I'm sorry, but it seems that they aren't. Both Lily and James have something to learn. And although James is on his way to understanding, Lily still hasn't even begun. R&R please, and for the person with the comment about James knowing she was a Muggle at first and then not knowing in later chapters that made no sense. I'm very glad that you pay that close attention to what I write, but I couldn't seem to find that in chapter six. So I don't know, but I appreciate your comments. I like constructive criticism; it makes the world go round.
w/ luv, Yo-yo (R&R)
