Sometimes she feels like she doesn't exist when he's not around. Like the fact that he's there makes her pop into existence. And a pale shadow of herself floats through the days without him. It terrifies her.
Her dependence on him to feel anything (even if it may only be a severe dislike) makes her tremble.
It terrifies her that he may be the missing piece of her; the cause of the gaping hole that is inside of her. She never had to rely on anyone else before. She was always 'Miss Independence'.
But now she relies on him to be there (always there). Because if he's not.... when he's not... she needs him to be there so that she can feel the blood racing through her veins; the emotions running wild. She needs him. And she hates it.
And she hates him (at least that's what she tells herself when she's lying awake at night trying to get his visage out of her head).
She hates him (at least that's what she tells her friends when they mention him in conversation; insulting him to hide her true feelings.
She hates him (at least that's what she tells him every day so that he will leave her alone to deal with this problem by herself as she always has before).
She hates him.
But she loves him for making her feel.
She'd always felt fake before: playing a part for an audience. But not with him. Never with him. He made her feel like he was reaching into her soul and pulling the real her out; on display for the whole world to see. Yet no one but him sees it.
She's alive with him, truly alive. Just seeing him, or hearing his glorious deep voice (or even just thinking about seeing/hearing him) makes her heart race, her mind sing such harmonious melodies, her stomach flutter like the wings of a dove. He makes her feel.
He makes her...
"Lily, what are you doing up so late?"
There it was. That glorious voice. Her heart sang, joining into the chorus of her mind.
She looked up from the parchment to gaze helplessly into those hazel eyes. She had to stop herself from sighing.
"I'm writing" she pushed a stray hair back from in front of her eyes.
He looked at the parchment in front of her. "But you don't have a quill."
She smiled. "It's an old spell. It goes straight from my head" she pointed to her temple here "to the page" she moved her finger to jab the parchment.
He looked amazed. "That's really... well... cool!" he said. "But... wouldn't it be bad if someone interrupted?"
She frowned, looking at him pointedly. "Yes. It would."
"Oh... right... sorry" he scratched his head apologetically. "You should have a 'do not disturb' sign up, or something."
"Well it is rather late; I thought everyone would be asleep. Everyone SHOULD be asleep."
"I woke randomly and thought I'd have a midnight snack." He shrugged, nonchalantly.
She laughed. "It's way past midnight, James."
He smiled down at her, goofily. She practically melted, her heart thumping like the coupling rods of a steam train.
"I know. But there's nothing like a late night stroll to the kitchens" he looked at her curiously "do you fancy a walk? Or are you too inspired to want to do anything but write?"
She smiled, "my parchment will be filled with this conversation now, so I might have to start again."
He blinked."Wait... so everything that's happened will be on the parchment? All of your thoughts?"
"Sure, I thought I'd explained that. Why?"
He didn't reply, just snatched up the parchment. He began to read.
"Uh... James... could I have that back?"
There was no response.
She attempted to pull it from his hands, but he moved it quickly away without even glancing up at her.
A pause as she tried to work out how to get it back.
"This is beautiful." He murmured as he continued to read.
"Thank you... But could I please have it back?" she said, pleadingly.
"Who's it about?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"Never mind that! James! Please?" she was feeling desperate now, sure that at any moment he'd reach the point where he'd interrupted.
"James..." her eyes pleaded at him.
He looked up, suddenly. "You think I have a glorious voice?"
She flushed red, ducking her head down to hide the blush behind her long hair. She refused to look at him.
"Was that about me?" his voice raised a few octaves from the shock. If she hadn't been in the situation she was in, she would have almost found it funny.
She refused to answer, hoping that if she ignored the situation it would go away. Foolish, she knew, but one could dream.
He looked down to read from the parchment, his eyes skipping towards the bottom.
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She panicked and nonverbally shut the spell down.
The End???
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(Just kidding, where was I? oh yeah, right…)
He looked down to read from the parchment, his eyes skipping towards the bottom.
A sigh escaped his mouth.
"The 'situation', as you so wonderfully termed it, is not going to go away, Lily." He sighed again, running his fingers through his long hair. She attempted to stifle to thought of running her own fingers through that hair.
A groan tore itself from her slightly parted lips.
"Do you love me, Lily?"
Her brain shouted 'YES' but she clamped her lips tightly together, hoping he'd get sick of talking to himself.
He sighed a third time, and glanced down at the parchment.
"So that's a yes." He shook his head "Why do you make things so complicated…?"
She blinked slightly, raising her eyes to gaze at him in puzzlement.
He smiled (there goes her heart again) "If you love me all you have to do is tell me, and this can all be sorted."
She tipped her head to one side like a sparrow.
"But you know..." the words were thrown from her lips.
He took a step closer to her, closing the little distance that was between them. Her breath caught in her throat. "But I want you to tell me for yourself" he whispered huskily in her ear. A shaky sigh escaped her lips.
He grinned at her; obviously well aware of the affect he had on her (now) without even having to consult the parchment. Having thought of the parchment, she now tried thinking of a way to get it away from him without him noticing.
"Tell me..." he said.
"I may... uh... have developed... feelings for you." She said, shakily, still trying to eye off the parchment subtly.
He gave a laugh. "I suppose that will have to do." He grabbed her by both arms, leaning over to tower only an inch above her face.
"I love you, Lily Evans, and I have done ever since 3rd year"
Her heart fluttered, almost painfully, like a butterfly. In fact, she even felt like a caterpillar that was emerging from its cocoon.
"And I love you, James Potter" she whispered, centimetres from his lips.
The rebirth was complete and she was the butterfly.
His lips moved down to hers, softly touching and she was flying; her mind and her body and him, and that was all. And that's all it ever needed to be. She hated him for making him feel like this, yet she loved him for completing her puzzle. It was bliss. Bliss and heaven. Oh as she flew she saw such pictures. And she was happy, perfectly happy. So happy she barely noticed as he slipped the parchment into her waiting hand. She was happy. And she was her. Completely her. Lily Evans as she should be. With James Potter by her side.