Oh, the semester is over. Finals have been taken and there's no looking
back. How I'm going to miss gym class.the tears.
Only a few more chapters to go!
Chapter 17
I'm going to die, thought Lily. I'm going to die in the dark with this boy that I don't really love. She didn't cry. She sucked in her breath shallowly to conserve. She lied on the ground and stared up at the dark ceiling.
This is what evil was, she thought. Making people think they love each other and killing them by taking away their air and trapping them in darkness. At least I'm not alone.
Time crawled. The only sound was the stream babbling through the basement room, reminding Lily how thirsty she was.
"Aren't you going to ask me if I love you or not?" James voice came from somewhere near her. It took her a minute to realize he was right beside her.
"Of course you don't. Teenage boys don't love, they lust. They live for a few kisses and more."
James laughed, but she could tell he was burned.
"I've loved you almost as long as I've known you," he said. Lily couldn't believe that. It was too beautiful to be believed. Boys had started noticing her when she had stopped being a skinny, frizzy-haired girl. She knew it when they started asking her out and staring at her where it was inappropriate. James had asked her out at least once a month in the fifth year.
"You were so funny. You bit your fingernails and were nervous as you stared out to the crowd. You didn't want to go up be Sorted, to stand in front of so many people. You tried to hide it."
"You were staring at me. I didn't want to look at you," she confessed. She remembered.
"Really?"
"Yes. You always looked at me. In class, at lunch, wherever we were in a ninety-foot radius of each other. I hated it and tried never to look at you."
"It was painful. I thought you hated me. You were the woman I loved before I even liked girls."
Lily liked that. Woman. No one had ever called her that before, even when she was seventeen. She rolled over so that she was on top of James. Her hair fell around his face. She gently nuzzled his nose. Something a woman would do.
"You're squishing me," he laughed. She kissed him. Lightly, then harder. His arms came around her small figure. Their legs became entangled and he was smiling. They were all dirty from the earth on the floor. She could tell he'd wanted this for a very, very long time.
Then he stopped.
"No."
"What?"
"This can't happen. It's not meant to be," he said quietly.
"Excuse me?" Lily asked. This was so rude. She rolled off of him and coughed.
"You don't love me. You're under a spell."
"So what? It feels real."
"What you feel doesn't matter," he said. "What you do does matter. I'm your friend. I can't take advantage of you."
"It's not taking advantage."
"If you were the real Lily, you'd hate me forever. When you're cured, you'll never speak to me again."
"In case you haven't noticed, we haven't got forever. We're going to die."
"Let's be hopeful."
"If you thought we were going to survive this, you'd never had said all that stuff about you loving me."
James was quiet. Lily was quiet. She was in pain again, like she felt all year. Wondering if James was looking at her. Wondering if he'd ever talk to her again. Hoping and pushing it all into the back of her mind. Now it took center stage.
"Can I ask you something?" he said tentatively.
"Make it quick, I literally don't have all day," she quipped.
"At least let me die in your arms."
"Whatever," she said. He curled up in a ball and she wrapped her arms around him. She smelled his hair and the curve of his neck. Earth. Soap. Sweat. Love. She could smell it all on him. She was going to die with him, and it was okay. She truly was in love with him if she died with the spell on her, right?
He was resting his eyes. For the first time, she really looked at him. She counted his freckles (twelve exactly) and saw herself reflected in the small bit of light cast on his glasses. He had smooth pale skin and sturdy eyebrows. His hair fell messily on his forehead. His lips were slightly wet.
He was everything she wanted. And she was going to lose it.
*
Lily was sure she was losing it. Footsteps? Above their head? Crazy. It was heaven knocking. And there it was, the divine light pouring into the room from the ceiling and blinding her.
"Well, don't you two look cozy," said a voice. Oddly enough, God sounded like Sirius Black.
Chapter 17
I'm going to die, thought Lily. I'm going to die in the dark with this boy that I don't really love. She didn't cry. She sucked in her breath shallowly to conserve. She lied on the ground and stared up at the dark ceiling.
This is what evil was, she thought. Making people think they love each other and killing them by taking away their air and trapping them in darkness. At least I'm not alone.
Time crawled. The only sound was the stream babbling through the basement room, reminding Lily how thirsty she was.
"Aren't you going to ask me if I love you or not?" James voice came from somewhere near her. It took her a minute to realize he was right beside her.
"Of course you don't. Teenage boys don't love, they lust. They live for a few kisses and more."
James laughed, but she could tell he was burned.
"I've loved you almost as long as I've known you," he said. Lily couldn't believe that. It was too beautiful to be believed. Boys had started noticing her when she had stopped being a skinny, frizzy-haired girl. She knew it when they started asking her out and staring at her where it was inappropriate. James had asked her out at least once a month in the fifth year.
"You were so funny. You bit your fingernails and were nervous as you stared out to the crowd. You didn't want to go up be Sorted, to stand in front of so many people. You tried to hide it."
"You were staring at me. I didn't want to look at you," she confessed. She remembered.
"Really?"
"Yes. You always looked at me. In class, at lunch, wherever we were in a ninety-foot radius of each other. I hated it and tried never to look at you."
"It was painful. I thought you hated me. You were the woman I loved before I even liked girls."
Lily liked that. Woman. No one had ever called her that before, even when she was seventeen. She rolled over so that she was on top of James. Her hair fell around his face. She gently nuzzled his nose. Something a woman would do.
"You're squishing me," he laughed. She kissed him. Lightly, then harder. His arms came around her small figure. Their legs became entangled and he was smiling. They were all dirty from the earth on the floor. She could tell he'd wanted this for a very, very long time.
Then he stopped.
"No."
"What?"
"This can't happen. It's not meant to be," he said quietly.
"Excuse me?" Lily asked. This was so rude. She rolled off of him and coughed.
"You don't love me. You're under a spell."
"So what? It feels real."
"What you feel doesn't matter," he said. "What you do does matter. I'm your friend. I can't take advantage of you."
"It's not taking advantage."
"If you were the real Lily, you'd hate me forever. When you're cured, you'll never speak to me again."
"In case you haven't noticed, we haven't got forever. We're going to die."
"Let's be hopeful."
"If you thought we were going to survive this, you'd never had said all that stuff about you loving me."
James was quiet. Lily was quiet. She was in pain again, like she felt all year. Wondering if James was looking at her. Wondering if he'd ever talk to her again. Hoping and pushing it all into the back of her mind. Now it took center stage.
"Can I ask you something?" he said tentatively.
"Make it quick, I literally don't have all day," she quipped.
"At least let me die in your arms."
"Whatever," she said. He curled up in a ball and she wrapped her arms around him. She smelled his hair and the curve of his neck. Earth. Soap. Sweat. Love. She could smell it all on him. She was going to die with him, and it was okay. She truly was in love with him if she died with the spell on her, right?
He was resting his eyes. For the first time, she really looked at him. She counted his freckles (twelve exactly) and saw herself reflected in the small bit of light cast on his glasses. He had smooth pale skin and sturdy eyebrows. His hair fell messily on his forehead. His lips were slightly wet.
He was everything she wanted. And she was going to lose it.
*
Lily was sure she was losing it. Footsteps? Above their head? Crazy. It was heaven knocking. And there it was, the divine light pouring into the room from the ceiling and blinding her.
"Well, don't you two look cozy," said a voice. Oddly enough, God sounded like Sirius Black.