Why Lily Fell

-By Yo-yo

A/N: This chapter is high on the drama/conflict scale, just a forewarning.

By the way, I was expecting some acknowledgement due to the excellent sexy time that happened last chapter and I got no reviews. I am sad, which is why I haven't updated in awhile, and if the response is the same, I may not commit so much of my time to this story. I have others I am working on. That makes me sad though… Please read and review… it's my reward for doing my job… if I can't get paid in money, reviews are an amazing alternative.

With love,

Y.

Chapter 9- Where We Stand Now:

"Why does she always run?" he gasped, jolting from sleep.

"Because you're a prat," Peter mumbled, rolling onto his stomach and resumed snoring loudly.

"You're always pestering her," Remus growled, desperately trying to recapture the dream where he slept as soundly as the night Lily drugged him with the Wolf Flower elixir.

"She finds you a bit conceited," Sirius groaned, punctuating his disgruntled reply with a pillow through the opening of James's drawn curtains and hitting James in the face.

"Sod off, buggers," he groaned, wrenching open the curtains of his four-poster and lumbering from bed.

This was the fifth time that he'd woken to the exact same dream and woken up with the exact same question. The boys were tired of it by now, having already begun to recite canned responses in the now nightly occurrence.

He'd run the scenario in his head countless times, and it always ended the same, and he for the life of him, couldn't understand why. Every other girl in the school swooned at his feet. They flirted with him in the corridors, they gossiped about him in the loos and they snogged him in abandoned classrooms.

But Lily didn't.

To Lily, James was not worth her time. She hated him and always took the chance to make sure he knew. She thought because he indulged in dalliances she was better than he. She always contradicted him. For some reason he was the bane of her existence, and he still couldn't understand why.

Scratching his bare chest, he tugged a shirt on his feet and exited the dormitory.

He'd done this every night since the full moon. Sitting across from the fire, he bathed in the warmth glow, a tight pain licking his skin enticingly as he stared into its depths, trying to understand Lily Evans in his head.

He knew from their first meeting he'd been a jerk to her. But when she had learned of Remus's troubles, they'd turned a new leaf. While he'd stopped playing pranks on her and Snape, focusing solely on Snape, she'd reserved her disdain for him until enough tension had built and she had an outburst. But those happened infrequently. Then the summer of fifth year happened, and he realized that he was in love with her. From that day on he'd made it known to everyone that Evans would someday be his, but for some reason, she wouldn't give him the time of day?

He'd asked her out a myriad of times. Hell, he'd even kissed her on her sixteenth birthday, and yet she still hated him. He had tried, in all the ways he knew how to let her know how he felt, but no matter how sweetly he treated her, she never gave him a chance.

He knew she was attracted to him. Her breathing hitched whenever they got close. Her touches lingered too. And that night, her body quaked beneath him as his fingers grazed her skin.

He knew she was lying to him.

But why couldn't she admit it? Was being into him so bad?

When he entered the common room, he found it deserted, save for Skye, Sunny's sister, who was intentionally painting in a corner.

The Benoire sisters were notoriously beautiful. They all shared those stormy grey-blue eyes, the dark, milky skin, long and lean bodies, and the dark, curly hair. Skye was no different, only being so close in age to Sunny, and having a similarly, celestially inspired name, people usually believed them to be twins.

But everyone who knew them knew just how different the two were.

Skye (whose real name is Ciel, the French translation for sky) was quiet. Her world wasn't of facts, but rather muddled in a hurricane of feelings. Although she had her small group of friends, Gryffindor prefect Gia Briggs, and Jordan Adan and Venus Andopolis, she was usually found alone, painting as she listened to the Wailing Widows (an old witch group).

Currently, Skye was softly singing "Riding the Broom" quite awfully as she leaned on her elbows and studied the painting from afar. She was wearing paint spattered overalls, and her hair was pulled away from her face with a bandana, he guessed so that she wouldn't her hair, but a long strand had escaped and was tipped with dried white paint. She was going to have to cut that off.

"Hey Skye," he said finally, not wanting to be rude.

Apparently she'd placed a spell on herself, cancelling noise, because she didn't even bat an eyelash in disturbance.

Coming behind her, he himself surveyed the painting. Staring into the piece, with her back to him he wasn't ashamed to admit he didn't understand it. There were myriads of colors placed methodically on the canvass, but the central theme of what looked like a pattern didn't really make sense to him. There were browns and greens and reds and purples, but he didn't understand how they fit together, how they created a concept.

"Hey Skye," he said again, this time placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Blimey!" she gasped, trying to catch her breath as she struggled back into her seat, still clutching her heart. "Don't ever do that again!"

"I'm sorry," he grinned, liking the way her eyes seemed to grow wider, and her face opened like a flower, effectively displaying her anxiety.

She blinked her eyes hard, and sort of nodded her head. Then, she turned back to him, her breathing still slowing itself down.

"What'd you just say?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Whatever, so why are you down here?"

"That's a nice painting." He replied trying to change the subject.

"Nice try, if you don't understand it, at least ask me to explain." She grinned, her breathing back to normal as she retrieved a towel from her back pocket and cleaned off the brush she'd been holding.

"You've got some paint on your face."

"Where?" she asked, beginning to wipe her cheek down with the hard, dry towel.

"Not there, there," he pointed, but she still got the wrong spot. After many moments of trying, he just gave up and took the towel from her hands.

"Here," he gingerly wiped the acrylic from her skin.

"Thanks," she whispered as she moved away from him.

"So, I don't understand the painting."

"Look closer."

He moved closer to the canvass, but it still seemed muddled together, a homogeny of random colors.

"I still-"

"Closer." She replied.

And then he saw it. Among the colors and shapes, he found people, dancing. Their bodies moved around the canvass in one movement, a communal, yet intimate dance. A long red scarf linked the tiny bodies together. They revealed something he didn't think he'd see.

"It's supposed to be abstract and literal. The most important lessons in life were created this way. You're not supposed to understand, but learn from your mistakes and attempt to understand later. Some people never understand. They never take the time to sit down and just be. They're afraid, always rushing, afraid to be alone, afraid to think, afraid to feel. They won't ever understand life."

He looked back at her. She was wiping her hands clean with the towel while taking in her own creation.

He was roused by the obscene feeling of Peeves the Poltergeist blowing raspberries in his ear. Swiping at the little demon, James moved to a seated position. Apparently he'd fallen asleep in the common room, in the same corner that Skye's painting occupied.

At the moment, Lily was standing in front of the tableau, the morning's fire making her skin glow. Her face was so close that she seemed ready to press her nose against the still wet paint. She stood there for a few moments with furrowed brows before she stood upright, muttering to herself:

"I don't get it."

And James finally realized something. No matter what he did, Lily would never care about him in the way that he needed her to. She didn't want him and never would, so what use was there in trying anymore?

… And that was the day that James Potter finally gave up on Lillian Evans.

"… Chandler, Tate, have you tightened up your feint?"

"Yes," they groaned in unison, hoping she'd forgotten.

"Ok, gather your brooms and let's get on that field," Fly grinned deliriously as the Gryffindor team assembled in the team room.

When they'd reached the pitch, James wasn't surprised to see that Lily wasn't there. But Sunny was sitting between Remus and Peter, smiling up at him.

Remus and the boys abided by the restrictions of their punishment until last night, when they couldn't take it. Not being able to take the girls freezing them out any longer, they apologized and sweetened the deal with the promise of firewhiskey (there was never any doubt that there wouldn't be a celebration tonight).

All that was left was for James to make amends with Lily, and everything would be back to normal.

Except, he had already decided that he wasn't going to.

He didn't care anymore. He wasn't going to bend backwards anymore for someone who refused to see him for who he was. In all this time, she never cared for him in the first place. Apologizing to Lily now would be a waste of his time because in another two weeks, they'd have something else to dispute.

It was finally her turn to apologize.

With the strident piercing of the whistle, he was in the air, leaving his thoughts concerning Lily on the ground.

"Great job, Potter," a group of Hufflepuffs smiled, patting him on the back.

He nodded in acknowledgement and continued his way toward Gryffindor tower, seeking his bed for an afternoon nap.

As soon as he climbed through the portrait hole, a deafening cheer erupted from the Gryffindors and he immediately held back a groan. Standing in the midst of the students, holding out a mug of butterbeer, was Sirius, celebrating with the rest of them, their defeat over Ravenclaw, 200 to 10.

"Bloody fantastic game you played, James," Sirius called from the crowd, one of his arms around Fly's shoulders as he rocked back and forth to one of Lily's Muggle records.

"You did a wonderful job too. But I'm going to take a nap," he called over the music, struggling to make his way toward the boys' dormitory.

"Anything wrong?" he asked, watching James's weary face as he reached the door.

"Just knackered," he replied, his hand on the knob.

"Do you need any company?" Artemis pressed against him, tipping her head to the side.

"Not now, Missy," he shook his head and disappeared through the doorway.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the loud music muffled and he sank down onto the first step. On the field he'd felt invincible, but back on the ground he remembered how diminished he was.

And now, as his eyes counted the number of steps between him and his bed, he felt incapable of even conquering those. But his reward would be his own expanse of mattress, warm and welcoming for him alone.

With a grunt, he lifted himself from the stair and began to trudge up the staircase, cursing whoever hadn't thought of installing the moving staircase like the ones leading to Dumbledore's office.

Two steps in his room, Lily looked up from Sirius's bed, her eyes wide as she looked back at him, as though she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She was sprawled out on Sirius's bed, parchment helter skelter as her finger held her place in the book opened before her, a chocolate quill between her teeth.

"Sorry," she mumbled, moving into a seated position, guilt lacing her voice. "Padfoot said I could use his bed, I assumed everyone would be celebrating and I figured this would be the only quiet place in the castle. I- I didn't expect… so, did you guys win?"

"You weren't there."

"I'm never there," she shrugged, pushing back her curls.

It was common knowledge that Lily's interest in Quidditch ended when the players left the ground.

"Well then why do you want to know who in the fuck won?" he snapped.

"Wow," she exclaimed, jumping from the bed onto the floor. "I wasn't fucking asking you if you'd gotten laid last night, which you obviously didn't- it was just a simple question."

"Well then pose that question to someone else on the team. I have no interest in entertaining your disdain in me any longer. So take your shit to the library, you know, that space designed for quiet?"

"What has gotten into you?" she asked with arms akimbo.

"Nothing, please leave, Lily."

"No, why in the hell did you just snap at me? What did I do wrong this time?"

"Just sod off," he mumbled, climbing into his four-poster and closing the curtains behind him.

But Lily was revved and ready for the confrontation. In seconds, she was behind him, wrenching the curtains open and yelling,

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Who do you think you are?" James asked, shooting off the bed, his face millimeters from hers.

"I asked first, you're the one that started this in the first place."

"I didn't start this. You started this one."

"And how did I do that?" she asked, screaming at him.

"What the fuck is so wrong with me?" he mimicked her tone, flecks of spit flying in her face.

"I don't know, ask yourself."

"I'm the top of the class. I'm the most popular boy in school. My family is wealthy. I'm not unattractive. I'm clever. I'm fairly nice. I'm going to be an Auror. Professors like me. I'm funny. All of those are good qualities. All of those are perfect qualities in a partner, but you never budge. In fact, I repel you! What about me makes you hate me?"

She blinked once, twice, three times before she seemed to understand.

"That's what this is about?" she whispered, moving back a step.

"When it comes down to Lily and James, that's always what it's about."

"But… I- I thought we covered this? In fact, isn't this the third time?"

"Well third time's a charm; maybe I'll be able to get it through my thick skull."

"James," she frowned, moving back another step, "I don't have anything against you… I've just never seen you that way."

"That's bullocks and you know it," he answered, "You won't let yourself see me the way I see you."

"Perhaps you're right," she nodded after a moment.

She couldn't deny what had happened many nights ago. When his fingers ignited her skin, his heat scorched her insides, and his lips incited a volcanic eruption inside of her, heat flooding her system and a quake rumbling through her epicenter.

"Have you ever felt that before?" he whispered, moving closer.

She looked up, her eyes catching his.

She couldn't tell him that she'd only ever felt that once before.

"I can't see how that has anything to do with… You're right, I won't see you that way." She said, going back to her old standby, unable to admit defeat, especially to James Potter.

"And why not? Am I really such a bad guy?"

"No James, it's just that I-"

"It's that you've never allowed yourself to see me in any way."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not your friend, Lily. I never have been. To you I am on the fringe in the group, they guy you have to tolerate because the others like me. I'm Peter to you! You've never been able to stand that I came with being friends with Remus, Sirius and Fly. I am nothing to you; why would you ever see me at all?"

"It's not like that James," she shook her head. "I always trusted you. You were always there for me when I needed you and I always thanked you for that."

"Yea, but when I've needed you, you've never been there for me. Hell, when I'm there for you, you completely forget about it the next morning. You barely even acknowledge me as a human being. Merlin, you've even told me that part to my face!"

"You can't do that."

"Can't do what?"

"Can't take what I say when I'm mad to heart. You can't trust what I say to you when I'm upset!"

"Lily, the only times that we speak to one another are when we're upset. Hell, the only times we're ever civil to one another are when we're apologizing. If you really do BELIEVE that we're friends, then we've got a pretty fucked up relationship. The only times we ever converse are when we're yelling."

"We do have a pretty fucked up friendship."

"No, we've got a fucked up relationship. We're 'friends by association.'"

"That's not true."

"I bet you chucked the bracelet out the window the moment you learned it was from me, huh?" He took a step back.

She looked down at her hands, remembering the morning after her sixteenth birthday when she'd woken to the small package, much like the small box Severus had sent her containing the hair clasp, on her pillow. Inside was a bracelet of smooth, red beryl stones, deep red and strung together by a very fine golden thread. From the stones' clarity and the malleability of the gold, she believed it to be wizard wrought. And like all of the other gifts she'd received, a note was attached, this time in James steady handwriting:

For the cleverest witch I know, whose matching hair and temper inspired this, James.

"No," she whispered, remembering the fight with Tuny at the end of the summer.

"Well you should have," he whispered, looking down at her. "It would have confirmed what everyone already knew."

"And what do they already know?" she was frowning now.

"That I mean nothing to you."

"James," her eyes welled with tears, the hurt in his eyes breaking her heart.

"I mean, seriously Lily, what is it about me that repels you so? Every girl in this school would love to go out with me, yet you'd rather die. What is it about ME, Lily that you hate? Why am I off limits? Why can you date anyone else at this damn school, my friends and even Muggles before you'd date ME?" He was yelling now, his face redder than she'd ever seen him.

Before she could even think of a good response, her coping mechanism kicked in and she was fighting back.

"See, you say rubbish like that and think that I can be with you?" she was yelling now, "What's wrong with dating Muggles? My Mum, my Da, my sister, my life before you came along was Muggle!"

"I'm not attacking your-"

"Do you think that it's because I don't fall for you that you think you're in love with me? Because I don't snog you openly in couches, I don't press against you in empty corridors and I don't shag you in my four-poster? Do you think that this- infatuation- with me is only because you favor the chase? I am the only one to make the guy with 'the perfect qualities in a partner' work for it!" she threw his words back in his face.

"How dare you-"

"How about we settle this now!" she was out of control now.

She grabbed his arm with one hand, and put her fingers through the loopholes in his trousers with her other. In a moment, she'd brought his hips to hers and forced his hand on her breast.

"Take me now, strong man," she growled, pushing him backward so that they fell on his bed, her body stretched over him.

Anger and arousal and humiliation all flooded his system at once, flaring up in his eyes. Before she could process what she herself had done, he pushed her off of him.

"Get the fuck away from me, Lily. Don't you ever touch me again!"

In that moment, his expression really did break her heart.

"James, I'm sorry, I wasn't-" and before she could offer her apology, he finished the conversation,

"Clean up the mess you've made and sod off, bitch," he growled before hurtling down the stone steps, out of the dormitory and eventually out of the castle.

"Hey Skye," he whispered, climbing through the portrait hole.

"Hi James," she smiled, taking a sip of her water and looking over at him.

"What are you doing here again?"

"Looking for some quiet."

"Everyone wondered what happened to you when you ran out of here like a bat out of hell."

"Is that your subtle way of asking what happened?"

"You know me so well, James Potter?" she smiled, turning around and straddling her seat.

"I decided to take a nap in a quieter place."

"Like, away from Lily Evans?"

"Exactly," he grinned, pushing her hair away from his forehead.

"We saw her leave the dorms a few minutes after you left. We guessed it was a fight."

"Yea, another fight…"

"What's this about?"

"The same as the others. I'm through with her though."

"Oh?" she asked raising a brow.

"Shut up, it's not like I say this once every day. It's over. I'm friends with the Marauders and Sunny and Fly. But she's just there; I'm not going to acknowledge her anymore. She's my friends' friend."

"And you're sure that's wise?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Doesn't matter if it's wise, it just matters that I'm happy."

"Are you happy knowing that there's no chance now?"

"There was never a chance; I've lived with that until now. What's the difference now?"

"Your call, James Potter, your call," she smiled before standing up and returning to her new painting.

"Goodnight Skye."

"Bye James," she replied behind him.

TBC…