Hey everyone! After a very stressful week I'm back and this time with the help of my new beta Sphinx, who is amazingly good and kind. Thanks a lot to you; you are life-saving, no matter what you say! I loved all the reviews; you people are just great. I hope you guys like it. PA

Chapter 5 - Addiction

Every bone in his body was sore and every last brain cell completely spent. He didn't know bones could hurt and he had never been so mentally exhausted in his life. But he was relentless and wouldn't give up easily. It had been over two months and they had not strayed from the hard training. In all honesty, he liked it because it kept him from thinking about other things. Things like war, love and hate and every other complicated thing that came in between. So, whenever his mind was about to start another endless rant he was glad he was tired. Blissfully tired.

But today, as his eyes flicked between open and closed, he felt his thoughts hover away from his control, as a snitch would sometimes; staying far enough so he couldn't reach it but close enough to taunt him. His own thoughts were taunting him; he thought he couldn't go lower than that. Her delicate face appeared in the fog of his reverie, the same milky skin he had dreamed of touching and the same inviting lips he had hoped to taste for so long. His mother was a scholar and he was a blue-blooded heir, or that was how he justified to himself the fact that he always thought that she was the most perfect masterpiece to ever exist, that Pygmalion would be ashamed of his Galatea had he set eyes on her; no artist ever had a hand so demure as to carve perfection such as hers, because her beauty simply wasn't something that could be replicated. It came from within; it came from all her flaws and imperfections that made her unique, those strange idiosyncrasies that marveled him and that, in the end, were what made her Lily. His Lily.

He remembered when he had noticed her for the first time, really noticed her, not her hair, not her figure or eyes, her. He was walking back from the kitchens one late afternoon his fourth year when he saw a young girl crying. He was about to approach her when someone else did. She sat by the other girl and he heard the youngster say she was scared she was alone, completely alone for the first time in her life. She felt dislocated, unsure and inadequate. The older girl had silently listened to her, all the while holding the other's hand and looking at her intently. Once the first year had finished the redhead had turned and, taking off her own necklace, placed a gift in the youngster's neck gently. She then told her she wasn't any of those things, she was just scared but it would be ok. She knew so. She smiled kindly and the young student felt reassured and left after throwing her a thankful look.

He had been bewildered for he knew how much the necklace she had just given meant to her for once he had almost damaged it and she had given him hell over it. Her sister had given it to her when they were toddlers, before their relationship had become so complicated; it was one of the few objects she prized. He had been impressed by her selflessness, or even more, he had felt admiration and respect for that unusual girl. She had touched him unknowingly, and that would forever change their lives. After witnessing the unexpected scene he began to pay her more attention, to look for her and, eventually, to fall for her, telling himself at first that it wasn't anything much, that it was just a habit, until she became a necessity. He needed her, yearned for her; he had fallen for her. Hard. It had been most unsettling at first, he had never fallen for anyone before- but after some time he realized that maybe it wasn't a bad thing, that it might even be exactly what he had always wanted, that very same thing he always witnessed between his parents when they napped together on the living room couch on Sunday afternoons.

He moved to lie on his side and winced because he had forgotten even the tiniest movement hurt like hell. His waking dream passed from the girl with emerald eyes to another subject, one much less pleasing. His parents. His father. His absence. He was lucky to have had a family such as his and he had always known it. In one short year everything had changed and he wondered if he knew exactly how much, not only in his life but also in life in general. He wasn't stupid, or naïve; he knew a war was going on out there, even if people tried to convince themselves there wasn't.

Sometimes he would wish he were older and wiser, that he could know what he didn't and matter. He wanted to matter. No, regardless of what some people thought, he didn't want the fame or the glory. Although in the past he might have, now things were different; he was different. He just wanted to stop the madness, to vanish the insanity that was causing the beautiful world he loved so much to collapse. To stop the senseless fall of people that had yet so much to do, so much to lose. He sighed abashedly and took long breaths of air trying to remove these weary thoughts from his mind. He was trying, really trying, to become useful, to be able to stand alongside those who were worthy and brave. He hoped that fools hope that one person could make a difference. And what gave him even more reason to nurture that inexplicable feeling was that he knew he wasn't alone.

He heard the door squeak lightly and he turned slowly only to recognize the familiar shadow of his best friend. The tall form squeezed through the thin gap between door and wall and entered the room with feathered feet.

"- I'm awake, Pads." - He said in a low voice and the other, although a bit startled, visibly relaxed.

"- Oh. Better get some sleep mate, tomorrow's training is going to be bloody murderous." - Came Sirius soothing familiar voice.

"- Yeah, I know. Good night." - He replied with his eyes still wide open. And after a moments thought he added. "- Sirius?"

"- Yeah?"

"- I'm glad you're here, mate." - He said honestly, thinking how much his presence beside him had been even more welcome these past few months.

"- Where else would I be?" - The longhaired boy answered earnestly. "- Night, Prongs."


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It was one of those days when everything seemed perfect; bright blue skies in that warm sunny weather and even a soft breeze, but she couldn't appreciate it. She was staring at two diverse pieces of paper, one holding news so terrible that she wished she had never seen and the other so opposed she thought the two should never be in such close proximity. The "The Daily Prophet" and her Head Girl letter. The horror a deranged man's fantasy was causing and the realization of her teenage dream.

It felt as though she was pretending, staying in her calm loving home with her hands tied, with little news of the world she loved, the world she belonged to. She was torn, for she knew that this was the last time she would really stay with her family and enjoy being sheltered from all the scary things that awaited her in adulthood, but she longed to be a part of something, to meet her purpose and she was certain it wasn't there, in that quietness; it was on the other side, where there was trouble and dread. She felt estranged now talking with her parents about mundane things, trying to fit in their reality while she knew they would never understand hers; inside the school walls she had found herself and comprehended just how much magic was a part of her. It was almost as necessary as breathing.

She thought about that letter, the one that came with a shiny heavy badge. It was heavy because of its meaning and the responsibilities it entailed, full of expectations and, dare she think it, hope. She was looking at the golden object intently, examining while she let her mind race. She had plans, many plans; they were what she did best. She knew she would graduate successfully, she knew where she wanted to further her studies becoming a healer and she knew she wanted a family. She also knew it wouldn't be free, like it was supposed to; she would have to fight for it, and she would gladly do it, for these were the things that were worth it and she would never let her future go so easily.

She lifted her head when she heard the sound of dishes clattering and sighed, her sister's foul mutterings traveling up the stairs. She wished she could hear Alice's contagious laugh instead or Mary's quiet humming. Or his voice. That husky tone that was low and felt like velvet in a sound, because it engulfed her in smoothness, in soothing. It was strange how now the tiniest most insignificant thing could remind her of him; the soft breeze at night made her see him sitting in the window that night, his unruly hair moving along with it; a book resting on a packed shelf, a little kid laughing whole-heartedly. She missed his warm eyes and quiet confidence, and the adorable dimples that adorned his cheeks when his smile reached his eyes.

She couldn't tell you exactly when it happened, but in the last year she had come to admire him. Of course he had flaws; she wasn't blind or stupid, but now she realized she had been prejudiced. After he apologized, he distanced himself from her, granting her what she had been asking for years: time and space. And with all those minutes to spare and all that room to wonder she began to notice what she couldn't notice before: James. She found that he had grown out of the boy she had known and into this strong man she had never seen but that everyone else seemed to look up to. People expected him to lead, to be great at everything, bestowing on him duties he never had asked for. She chuckled thinking that he dealt with the pressure and responsibility in his own peculiar way, but she couldn't remember anymore a single time when he had fallen short. He had that kind of charisma, a magnetic presence that drew you to him and before you knew he got you, you were in. And once you were in it was impossible to leave.

She remembered one of the rare occasions she had seen him studying; he was sitting outside with his friends, books sprawled between them and a look of pure concentration drawn in his eyes. But she could tell he wasn't there because of him, but for them. He kept quizzing his shortest friend, explaining charms and complex spells to him in the simplest way he could think of, never losing his patience, although she thought sometimes it would have been completely justified. He would joke and try to make his friend less uncomfortable about the fact that he already knew all that they were reviewing. She had thought he was an interesting contradiction: seemingly arrogant but intimately selfless, unassumingly smart and openly a jokester. Her curiosity was stirred by his complexity; she kept watching him, studying him, until she had become addicted. And then they had reached a common ground and he managed to hook her in even further, so deep that now there she was; many months passed without her getting her fix, making her imagine him everywhere. She would try to talk to an unsuspecting boy, find at least a temporary escape from her constant daydreaming, but in the end it was hopeless. And she knew there was nothing she could do to ease her craving, nothing but wait.

AN: So next up they meet again! R&R, please.