AN: Hello there. This is a rather quick chapter, but I've already written the next, and am insanely in love with it, as conceited as that may be. Hope you enjoy, and check back soon for updates! And now for the fluffalicious plot-lacking goodness:
Disclaimer: Any similarities to JKRowling's masterpiece is purley coincedental...ish...alright, it's all hers.
For Tom. Because the chances of you reading this story and actually figuring out who I really am are so infinitessiamlly tiny, that it won't hurt to tell you that I love you and miss you, and I'm so sorry, and that you really do deserve someone better than me. You deserve the stars and beyond.
I hate fighting with James. I just hate it. I know neither of us really mean it, but that doesn't make it hurt less. We're both going stir crazy, cooped up in the house like this, and, as James points out so sweetly, I'm overflowing with hormones. I mean, honestly. Sometimes I forgot how much I disliked James as a boy, and then he so kindly reminds me.
I shouldn't be writing when I'm like this. It's not the way I want to remember our story, but it's the truth and I'm going to write about it. Maybe I've given the impression so far that our love is perfect. That it's beyond perfect. And he's the only thing that keeps me breathing. And, okay, it can be like that, but right now, in this moment, I wouldn't mind if the arrogant bugger went out and played in a bit of traffic.
I still remember the first argument I had with James. Well, our first fight as a couple, I mean. Our first argument occurred within a nanosecond of meeting the conceited eleven year old, but that's not the one I'm talking about.
I was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, one snowy Sunday evening, helping a first year with her Transfiguration homework. It was a menial task, but one I felt was my duty, being Head Girl. I was thumbing through my Transfiguration for Beginners, when James ambled over, tousling his jet black hair as he came. Annoyance fizzed gently under my skin, coupled with a mad urge to lay him over the table and shag him right then and there. Only the day before, I had told him not to distract me while I was working. Clearly, not a lot had sunk in.
"Hey, love," he murmured, kissing the side of my neck softly.
I turned my head and kissed his cheek, before reminding him of his promise. "Seriously, James. I'll be done soon."
"Oh, she'll be fine. Won't you?" he addressed his question to the small first year who hadn't dared look up when he sauntered over, and now trembled visibly. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but not a sound came out. I could understand her stunned reaction: he was a Quidditch god, Head Boy, and one of the best looking boys in the school. And although my looks were merely adequate, I was still Head Girl. Any first year would find it difficult to form a coherent thought.
I decided to save her. "Give me a second, Kate," I said, rising from the hard chair, and grabbing James' arm as I led him away from the table.
"Is she alright, y'know, in the head?" he asked, still peering over his shoulder at the gaping first year.
"She's fine," I said shortly.
He turned his attention back to me, eyeing my crossed arms and impatiently tapping foot. "Are you alright?"
"I'm waiting for you to tell me why you so rudely interrupted us."
Looking slightly taken aback, James frowned. "I didn't rudely interrupt." He sounded like a petulant child. "Seriously, what's wrong? You're being all…itchy. Are you tired?"
"Yes, I'm tired," I wailed, attracting the attention of the nearest Gryffindors, who turned to watch excitedly. I ignored them. "You expect me to spend every waking second with you, James, and I don't mind, honestly, but I've got other friends, and I need to do my work, and Head Girl duties, and about a thousand other things, but I can't because you're always there." I swallowed. The common room had gone oddly quiet. All eyes were on my angry red face, and James' tight pale one.
"Have you ever considered that maybe I enjoy spending time with you?" he asked quietly, every trace of the child vanished from his features. "That maybe I try to spend so much time with you, because even when we're together, you're never really there?"
"Excuse me?" I hissed, my eyes flashing with anger.
"Sometimes I feel I'm just another chore on your list, Lily," he said, then put on a high-pitched voice and mocked, "'Three to four o'clock: homework. Four to five o'clock: James. Five to six o'clock: dinner.' I don't want to just be another part of your schedule!"
"How dare you?" I yelled, "You know that's not how I feel at all."
"Isn't it?" he asked darkly. "Because sometimes I think I'm the only one who really does feel anything in this relationship. You let me kiss you, but if I ever try anything else, you're always pushing me away, and saying you have to work or see a teacher."
"James!" I shouted, my face burning crimson, only too aware of the many eyes resting on the both of us and the faint whispering echoing around the room.
"Well, it's true," he retorted, clearly unabashed.
I glared at him, then stormed towards the portrait hole, and out into the chilly corridor. James followed not far behind, his black robes billowing out behind him and a dark look in his usually laughing eyes.
"How dare you say those things?" I demanded.
"I could ask the same of you," he retorted, meeting my glare with an equally fierce one.
"Well I guess this is over then."
"Yeah, I guess it – wait, what?" Confusion crossed his face as he frowned at me. "What are you talking about?"
"You and me," I replied quietly. A tremble in my voice gave away some of the pain coursing through me. Immediately James' face softened, and he even smiled sadly. Hesitantly, he reached out and brushed a finger across my face, then, as he saw I wasn't about to yell again, stepped forward and wrapped me tightly in his arms, pressing his lips to my head.
"Of course we're not over," he murmured. "Listen, Lily. I don't think you understand quite how much I love you."
"Yes I do," I argued, but he persisted.
"What I mean is, it hurts when I'm not with you. And I'm sorry if I irritate you, but you have to let me kiss you sometimes, otherwise I think I'll explode. I'll stop interrupting when you're tutoring, but at least let me sit with you when you're doing homework. You're the best witch in our year, Lily, a few distractions wouldn't hurt."
I scowled into his chest. "Fine," I mumbled. "And…I'll let you do more than just kiss me."
He drew away and levelled his eyes with mine. "I'm not asking for that. I shouldn't have even said it. Just…tell me how far you're willing to go, and don't stop things between us for any other reason than you're not comfortable."
I looked down at my feet. He was bang on the mark, with that one. I was always afraid people were watching, or he was going to run off and tell his friends about our love life.
"Okay," I agreed, then leaned up and kissed him. He was careful to keep his hands firmly on my waist.
Hmph. Well. Now I'm feeling all gooey about James again, but I can see him still kicking things out in the back garden, under the sweltering June sun. I don't know what it is between us. I mean, we fit together so well. As corny as it sounds, I think we were actually made for each other. He's my other half, and I just feel right when I'm with him. Like, when we fight, we always make up. We never just let it fizzle out, so that we're left just that little bit less in love with each other. We keep yelling until it's sorted out, and more often than not finish it in the bedroom.
I'm not saying that I like fighting with James, but don't they say that anger is the strongest form of passion? Or is that hate? Well, it keeps our marriage intense and searing. I wouldn't be without him.
Help the review whore feed her addiction. Much love.
