Disclaimer: I own nothing except the idea.
They keep having this same damn argument, and every time James loses. He loses not because he's wrong, necessarily, but because she's more right that he is, and she's all too happy to point it out.
"Lily," James snaps, eyes flashing.
She sets her jaw and meets his glare with one of her own. "I've a death sentence either way," she tells him. "Why shouldn't I fight?"
(-)
She'd always remember the first time she knew she could die because of who she was. It was strange, in a way. She'd known she was different even before she'd arrived at Hogwarts. Right at the first meal she'd had at the Gryffindor table, with the other first years, they'd discussed parentage and she and Mary MacDonald were the only Muggleborns there. But it hadn't mattered, she told herself firmly. It wasn't long until she could tell herself happily that it really didn't matter, because she soon realised she was clever at lessons, she was a natural at being a witch. And so being Muggleborn didn't matter.
But, of course, it did.
(-)
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't, James!" she demanded. "One reason that isn't you being emotional, isn't you being scared for me, you wanting to wrap me up in cotton wool!"
She can see his first impulse is to shout back, but then he closes his mouth, and shuts his eyes. His hands wrap around opposite elbows, holding himself together. And then he opens his eyes, boring into her, full of fear and anger and all the emotion she'd just told him not to express. Keeping his voice is flat, he says, "Because they will kill you."
It's possibly the stupidest, most emotional reason he could have thought of. It's a war, a war against her very existence. Of course they would kill her, if they got the chance.
She can't argue back and put more hurt into his eyes. Instead she goes to him, puts her hands on his arms. He won't meet her gaze, so she murmurs his name until he does.
Then she says, "I'll kill them instead."
(-)
She'll always remember the first time she'd had to fight. It was three days since she'd stopped being friends with Severus, three days after that damn fucking word. Perhaps she should have been expecting it, but she wasn't. At that point, she thought the worst had already happened.
It started with a whisper. She was on prefect duties; alone because Remus was in the hospital wing and there was no-one who could cover his shift. Someone behind her whispered softly, very softly, "Mudblood," and she whipped around. There was no-one, she couldn't see anyone, she couldn't see anything. And then someone whispered again, close enough for her to feel their breath on her neck, "Mudblood!".
She didn't even have time to think before she was turning, her fist swinging out and connecting with hard flesh.
And then she ran, like hell. Curses were being fired behind her, one missed her head by an inch. She didn't stop once, not until she got inside Gryffindor tower and into Mary's arms. She clung onto her, and Marlene, for the next few days. The next morning, they took her straight to Professor McGonagall to report what happened. They never found out who it was.
It marked a change for her. She'd known, in her head, that she could be attacked for being a Muggleborn. Mary had been, and so had others. She'd known it for a long time in her head, but now she knew it with her heart. How much protection had her friendship with Severus protected her? Did he had enough sway with that group that he'd been able to shield her from them before? Every time she thought of him, she felt numb.
It wasn't for days afterwards, weeks really, that Lily could think straight again. She was a wreck, sat shivering in front of the fire, trying to catch up on Transfiguration work with Remus. It was as though her brain had stopped being able to process anything, anything at all. All it could do was replay Mudblood, Mudblood, over and over. In the end, she just copied his work, not even caring that he'd got it straight from Potter.
She flinched as Black flopped down into an armchair to the right of her. "Evans," he said, noticing. "Evans, do you know what you need to do? Like, really need to do?"
"Sirius," Remus said sharply. Black ignored him and leaned over to her.
"Evans," he said again. "You need to get mad. Anger clears the mind. And we all know you've got a temper."
"Sirius!" Remus said again, exasperated. "Unless you've come to help us get another foot on this essay, go away."
Sirius caught her eyes and nodded pointedly, before leaving.
For the rest of that night, it was Sirius' words that running around her head. "I don't know, Lily," Mary said uncertainly when Lily consulted her. "I mean, I know after what happened to me, I was angry. But…" she trails off.
"Anger can make people reckless," Marlene finished. "And we can't afford to take risks."
In the end, it was those words that set the spark off. We can't afford to take risks. But she belongs here, she's part of the wizarding world. Just by being who she is, she's at risk. Someone thought they could intimidate her, hurt her, just because she of who she was. And one day, she would leave school and enter the real world, where she would only have to face more of the same.
She was furious. Furious with herself, for running that night. I should have stayed and cursed their head off their body, she thought. She wished she hadn't reacted in such a Muggle way, wished her first reaction had been a spell instead of violence. And then she was furious again, with her shame. Why should she care that she used her fist? Why should she feel so ashamed her first reaction was like that of a Muggle's?
She felt the anger grow with every heartbeat, travelling to every part of her body with her blood. Her filthy, dirty blood.
(-)
James' hands drop down to her hips. He didn't, as she'd thought, look angry about her confession. Didn't recoil in horror that she'd thought about killing, that she wanted to become a murderer. If anything, it deflated him. "That makes me even more worried," he admits, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. "I know," she confesses, and he manages to get out a short laugh.
"I don't want you to die," he says softly.
"I know that, too," she says, cupping his face in her hand.
She waits for him to lean into her touch, starts stroking her thumb over his cheek. "It's just, we're in a war. And we don't have any options about it." She can be patient now that they're together like this. She's known the reality of her situation for years. For him, it's only just sinking in.
In any other life, she thinks, looking up at him, you would be safe. His blood would have protected him. But then she thinks, no. Because there's not a chance in any life that James would stand by and watch, just take the easy way out.
And he knows that about her, too.
She sighs. "Let's not be angry with each other, James. Just with them."
"With them," he repeats. Then he smirks at her. "We're gonna win, you know."
She grins back at him. "Of course we are."
(-)
Author's note: As ever, I have an idea and then I end up somewhere completely different to where I thought I'd be. I do like it, nevertheless, and I hope you did too! Let me know what you thought and I will keep you in my heart forevermore.