Disclaimer: Everything from HP books belongs to JK Rowling
Lost Souls
Prologue
It is early in the evening and the sun sets on the horizon as he watches from a restaurant balcony. It is a quaint French place in the middle of London with beautiful music and charms to present a French scenery in the background. It's a beautiful restaurant, a place he went to a lot when he was young and fresh out of Hogwarts that seemed to loose its charm as age took its toll. Seemed to loose its charm as life played its twisted and painful game with his soul.
With him is a beautiful girl with strawberry blond hair and pale green eyes. He looks at her a lot, the young girl sitting across from him. Her eyes are alive with innocence and she seems like a child to him, a mere child taken in by promises of love, of forever. She seems so naïve, so ready to believe what she wants to think is the truth. So ready to put her faith into him. He smiles as she ecstatically rants to him about the beauty of the restaurant, about the ambiance she never felt anywhere else. He smiles as he watches her face glow with raw happiness, with untainted innocence. He loves it, loves seeing her smile as if he gave her the world. Loves knowing that not everyone in his life has a dark cloud hanging over their head. He needs this now. Happiness, he decided, is hard to come by.
Violin players congregate near their table and as the stars rise in the sky he offers his hand. She stares at it lovingly and puts her small, pale hand inside his and they walk out to the dance floor floating a few feet above ground. He feels free. Feels as if he's on cloud nine or floating in the heavens with an angel in his arms. She dances very graceful and feels light as he holds her, feels so delicate he's scared to hold her too tight and yet can't stop himself from bringing her closer. So, he wraps his arms around her tighter and pulls her into him as her head rests pleasantly on his shoulder.
She sighs into his muscular chest. This is it, she thinks over and over again. This is what love is about. She whispers into his ear, words of love, of adoration.
"Oh James," she coos, "It's so beautiful."
"Oh James," she whispers, "I wish I could be here forever."
Sometimes he wishes he had answers to her proclamations of love. Sometimes he wishes that he could say to her, say that he loves her, that he wishes he could be here forever because where he came from no longer holds the beauty he longs for. That where he came from leaves him empty and dying inside. Sometimes he wishes he could hold her all night or that he was able to look into her eyes and kiss her without the stench of sin, of guilt eating away at him. He wishes he could love her because, more than anything, he wishes for their time together to be more than a short dream he uses to escape the reality of life. He wishes for a fulfillment the beautiful child in front of him could never give him.
Instead, he whispers charming words into her ear, whispers French romance quotes or Spanish pick up lines for a quick laugh. Instead, he listens for her musical laughter as she hears his jokes, waits for the exact moment her eyes light up and resemble emeralds. Emeralds, his favorite jewel, favorite color. But as he stares into her watered-down green eyes, he pushes thoughts of emeralds out of his mind. He pushes away thoughts of fiery red rubies and beautiful porcelain dolls and focuses on the girl in front of him. This child of twenty years, who still lives with her heart and soul, still thinks anything is possible. And it's her innocence, her naïve appearance, that endeared her and keeps him coming back for more. He thrives off her purity, tries to absorb as much of her light as possible.
They dance in the starlight mesmerized by each other, by the music, until the waiter comes to their table with the food. He watches her eat, the small bites she takes and the refined manners she was taught at a young age. She looks like the perfect society girl and he wonders, who is it that she reminds him of? And its then that images of a day many years ago fill his mind. He's dancing in the moonlight with a feisty girl who stole his heart long ago. A beautiful girl that has been haunting him for years, creating a void in his already hard heart. Her hair is bright and her eyes glow even brighter and she just seems to him to be the essence of beauty. They laugh all night and never once look away from each others eyes. She touches his face and lightly kisses his lips as she whispers that she loves him. He looks deeply into her eyes as he replies that he loves her too, loves her so much.
He snaps out of his reverie and feels his heart ache as he looks at the girl in front of him. He realizes that she reminds him of the beauty of his dreams, reminds him of an innocence he once knew, a passion he longs to remember. He looks at her and sees a shadow of another woman, a shadow of his heart. They all remind him of her. Every girl he takes out is a shadow of her bold beauty. Every girl is a pawn he uses to satisfy a fantasy that should have become reality long ago.
He shakes his head from thinking of her and falls into conversation with his date. They speak about trivial things, about the latest fashion in Europe, about the latest product zonko came up with or the last quidditch game. And secretly these topics bore him. Secretly, he wishes to discuss politics and books he has read. Secretly he wishes to tell his latest story about auror duty, about the horrors he has to get off his chest. But instead, he smiles charmingly as she gabs about her latest venture into Diagon Alley. He smiles even as he realizes she has no thoughts of her own, as he realizes he yearns for a quick wit this girl could never measure up to.
Two hours later they walk into a nice looking motel. As she opens the room door he hungrily snatches her to him and kisses her with abrupt passion. Her arms immediately wrap around his neck and she shudders as he sucks the weak spot on her neck. He kicks the door shut and she begins to unbutton his shirt as he leads her over to the bed. His shirt comes off quickly and as she lies underneath him he pulls her tight, black dress off her small body and climbs more on the bed as she undoes his belt.
They begin kissing again and suddenly passion explodes inside of him. His body moves perfectly with hers and her pale skin seems to glow in the candlelight. He has her again and again as lust rages inside of her, of them both, and their sweaty bodies mingle together on the cheap motel bed. Two hours later she falls asleep in his arms and as he watches her slow breaths insomnia consumes him. Her light hair falls over the sheets covering her naked body and he realizes how young she looks as she sleeps. How young she seems when he compares her to himself. Sometimes it's enough to deter him, to make him stay away for days at a time because it feels too wrong to continue. But then he'll look into saddened emerald eyes and only seconds after he'll owl this girl who is no more than a child because he needs this. He needs this diversion from reality.
Slowly he gets out of bed so he doesn't wake her and begins to dress. It's late, he thinks as he look at his watch, it's time to go home. He kisses her forehead before he leaves and when he hears her whimper in her sleep he lightly kisses her lips and writes a note promising to see her soon, promising to call on her in the next few days. And silently he leaves the hotel room, walks to the nearest fire place, and goes home.
When he arrives the house is dark and eerie. Quietly, he puts his hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out a fine, gold ring and slips it on his ring finger. He walks up the stairs, never making a noise as his body becomes consumed in shadows, and slowly opens the door to his bedroom. He looks over to the bed where his wife sleeps. She's still beautiful, as beautiful as she was the day he met her and his heart lurches as he looks at her rich red curls flowing beautifully over the side of the bed. He looks at her sleeping peacefully and realizes, with the same agony he does every night, that she never looks as happy awake than she does in sleep, never as peaceful, not like she used to. And he realizes, again, that he's tired of her depression, of this void growing inside his heart. He's tired of the rift that has grown between them. Tired of the sadness that has consumed them. But he doesn't try to remember happier times, doesn't try to dwell on this love that makes him want to cry, to die, and instead walks to his closet and puts on his pajamas without turning on a light. He climbs into bed after brushing his teeth and pulls the covers up to his shoulders. She moves a bit as the mattress's weight shifts under their bodies and he observes how she no longer moves closer to be wrapped inside his arms. How she no longer opens her eyes to get a quick kiss before he falls asleep. He stares at the ceiling for a while. He listens to her breathing and remembers a few years ago when her eyes glowed with life and her laugh was true instead of the sarcastic sound she's adopted. He thinks about the past, about their fights in school and dates in Hogsmeade. He thinks about their life a few years ago when everything felt perfect, when life seemed to finally make sense. He falls into a fitful sleep after an hour of reminiscing and dreams of the past, of the future he was supposed to have.
A/N: If you didn't know this is a Lily/ James. It's a slight Alternate Universe and will be a few chapters long. Ok, so how many of you hate James right now? I mean cheating on Lily! Men! I hope you like this. I know it seems vague but everything will be described in the few next chapters or so and you'll realize how a love as strong as theirs can suffer so horribly. For everyone who has read this before this is being redone. I have already posted most of it on the other site but I think that this version has more depth than the other one (more chapters lol!) and should give you an overall better view of their plight.
Bye for now REVIEW!