It is past midnight and most Gryffindors have said their goodnights and gone to bed. James Potter, however, has been sitting at the table closest to the roaring fire for nearing two hours, trying to finish McGonagall's essay. He yawns widely.
"Oi! Why are you still down here?" Sirius jumps the last few steps from the boys' dormitories. "Not having an all-nighter without me, are you?"
"No, Padfoot," James says through yet another yawn, "I don't intend to sit here much longer."
Before James can stop him, Sirius flits the parchment from the table and scans the first few words.
"What is this?" his friend says with obvious distaste.
"McGonagall. I didn't hand in the last one, remember? So she set me this as extra."
"Huh," Sirius shrugs, "Well, I'm going to bed. I need my beauty sleep." He flashes a grin (and flutters his eyelashes, the girl) before turning towards the boys' staircase.
James listens to Sirius' footsteps until they fade away. Looking around him, he realises the common room is empty bar him now. With a heavy sigh, he looks back at his essay, but it isn't long until he finds himself staring blankly into the fire. Shaking his head, he attempts to write only for his thoughts to drift once again. And no matter how hard he tries to stop himself, James Potter's thoughts always end up drifting to one specific person.
Lily Evans. Beautiful, feisty, (frightening), wonderful Lily Evans. And although James' thoughts usually drift to Lily Evans, they have been recently drifting in a more worrisome, unsatisfying way. Because Lily has been steering well clear of James recently. More so than usual. And this has not made James particularly happy.
Since that God-awful incident with Snivellus after the Defence exam last year, Lily has been leaving rooms when James enters, adamantly turning her eyes from him and even changing course in corridors to avoid him. This has made James not very happy at all.
Especially because this has meant James hasn't found an opportunity to corner Lily Evans. And James has every desire to corner Lily Evans. To apologise.
James needs to apologise. He needs to apologise because he came to a rather startling and heart-wrenching realisation over the summer. One he has naively ignored for years-
Lily Evans truly hates him.
She bloody-well, fuckingly, shittingly, hates him.
She'd screamed for all the school to hear how arrogant he is, what a bully he is... Yes, he'd been stupid to ask her out so publically, stupid to ask her out when she was obviously infuriated and yes, he had been showing off in front of everyone, and yes he had been dangling Snivellus upside down and yes he may have started it all…
James groans loudly into his hands, his essay all but forgotten.
He'd been a shit. A festering pile of shit.
But at least he knows that now. At least he had spent the entirety of the summer thinking about what a shit he is. And how he needs to apologise.
But how was he supposed to apologise if she kept walking away from him and ignoring his shouts? If she'd just hear him out, let him show her, then, maybe, something could...maybe they could...well...
James sighs dramatically, cradling his head in his hands. All he wants is one measly date. Is that so much to ask for?
Yes, apparently, it is.
After bashing his head against the palm of his hand, James' ears perk up. Light feet are making their way downstairs. They stop, then they resume, but with a far slower pace. Cautious? James glances behind him and he's out of his seat as if he's been hexed. His hand goes to hair but he catches himself, his hand awkwardly dropping like lead to his side.
"Evans," he breathes with care, fervour, relief, nerves… who knows what. But with feeling.
Her eyes lock with his. Blazing, brilliant eyes.
"Potter."
She stands behind the sofa. Her gaze drops from his, eyeing the essay in front of him. She is wearing her dressing gown and has a book lodged under her arm. The silence is fierce between them.
James clears his throat. "What you doing down here, Evans?"
Her eyes dart back to him, furious, and her hands clench in an instant, defensive. She opens her mouth for what looks like an onslaught - but only a second later her shoulders drop and her eyes close. The fight leaves her. James watches her carefully. There is a long pause. "Just can't sleep," she says in a half-whisper.
She turns and mutters to perhaps him or just to herself, he isn't sure, "I'll just go read in bed…"
"You can read down here," James says, and he immediately cringes at his enthusiasm. "I mean," he reverts to a calmer tone, "it would be nice to have some company." He gestures to his unfinished essay.
She lifts an eyebrow at this. "It's gone midnight, Potter."
James nods. "Sure."
She watches him. He shuffles. He watches her as well.
"And we're not friends, Potter."
This hits him like a curse. He knows it, but hates to hear it out loud. Her scornful tone, her bluntness – his breath catches. He can feel his cheeks flush, and anger spikes deep in his chest. Those words have hurt him, and he's both embarrassed and infuriated at how much they've hurt him. It's embarrassing and infuriating that her words matter so much to him. That she matters so much.
If she realises the impact of her words, she doesn't show it. Only lifts her chin slightly.
"Goodnight," she says quietly. She turns and makes her way back to the staircase.
This is the first one-on-one encounter James has secured with Lily since that God-awful incident, and it's lasted barely 3 minutes. He feels like punching something. Or maybe himself. Sirius would do it for him, gladly. She's walking away and she hates him. And they aren't friends and she can't even be in the same room as him and it's gone midnight and they aren't friends…
"I'm sorry, Lily."
She stops. One foot on the stairs. She turns to face him. She watches him. Her head tilts minutely to the side. She doesn't watch him, he realises. She inspects him.
"Be specific," she says, hard.
His heart lifts ever so slightly. She's giving him a chance. This is the moment he has been hoping for. This is his chance to redeem himself, show her he is a better person than she believes. That he is kind, thoughtful and dateable. He rounds the table and sofa and faces her. He takes a steadying breath. He hopes she doesn't notice the subtle swipe of his clammy hands on his trousers. "Evans. Ever since that God-awful incident at the end of last year, I have felt so incredibly awful-"
She raises a sharp hand. "I don't want your practiced speech of apology, Potter."
He gawps for a moment before snapping his mouth shut. His cheeks flush again. "It's not a practiced speech of-"
"Yes it is." Her voice is firm. Decisive. No bullshitting here.
He wills his embarrassment away, angry at having been humiliated for a second time in a matter of minutes. "You don't get to dictate my apology, Evans."
"I don't want to hear an apology you've rehearsed in front of a mirror, Potter." Her voice is rising.
"You wanted to hear it a second ago." His voice has an edge to it now.
"When I thought you might give me a proper apology!"
"How can you know this isn't a proper apology? You cut me off barely 5 words in!"
"I can tell, Potter, trust me. I've had my fill of shit apologies recently."
"So hear me out-"
"I told you, I don't want your practiced apology." She is seething now. Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are bright. Her hands are clenched in tight fists. "I don't want an apology that will appease you. I don't want an apology that will make you look good. I don't want an apology that you think will make me like you. I don't want to hear the words you think are right and sweet. I don't want an apology that would make dim-witted girls swoon. I don't want an apology that you think could land you a date." She inhales shakily, out of breath but fired-up. "I want a real apology. Not with intensions or expectations. Not with arrogance. Not for praise or recognition. I want you to apologise because you know it's right – because you want to apologise, because that is what is right." She sighs. Disappointment, her eyes and her sigh read disappointment.
James nods slowly. He wants to say he understands her. But he's not sure he does entirely. And he's not sure she would believe him. He thought an apology would help her like him, yes, help him get a date, sure. But does that mean he's not truly sorry? He saw the God-awful incident in a new light now – a bullying light. Snape had been humiliated, James had laughed, and Lily had cried into the evening. Can't he apologise for that? He isn't sure about anything right now. He's still nodding slowly, his eyes now on the floor. He stops.
If he's not sure, James thinks, then maybe he's not ready to apologise. But maybe that isn't a bad thing. Maybe a verbal apology isn't the only way to make things right. Maybe it will take time. Maybe an apology doesn't have to be words at all.
He looks back at her. She is watching him carefully, her head tilted slightly to the side again. He loves when she does that. She does it when she's thinking. As though her thoughts are so busy and her mind so full that her head is weighed down. This makes him happy. There are a lot of things about Lily Evans that James Potter loves.
"You're right," he breathes. She frowns. "I'm sorry, but I'm not quite sorry yet." His lips tug up slightly. But then he looks away, bashful. "Well, maybe I am, but to be honest Lily, you've kind of confused me." He huffs a half-laugh. "Maybe I'm not grown up enough or clever enough to apologise properly yet."
She smiles. Just a little. "Oh, you're clever enough."
She makes to turn away. James feels disappointment flood through him – he didn't realised the conversation was over. This hadn't gone to plan at all. But maybe that was a good thing. Blimey, he really is so confused.
"You know," he hears her say, her back half turned from him, "that is the most honest thing you've said to me, James." She turns to face him again. Her eyes glint softly in the candle-lit room. She opens her mouth as though to continue but must think better of it, or perhaps she actually has nothing else to say, for she closes it and turns from him, her eyes leaving his only at the last second.
"Goodnight," she whispers.
It is past midnight and most Gryffindors have said their goodnights and gone to bed. But James Potter stands in middle of the common room, wide awake.
Thanks for reading.