Your welcome. There, I posted twice in one day. If I was a smart author, I would make you guys wait, but I didn't. GO ENJOY CHAPTER FIVE AND PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! TELL US WHAT YOU THINK!
Life with James as my flying coach isn't as bad as I pictured it to be. He acts like he should, not flirting and helping me along, and in turn I'm not as awful towards him. Don't get me wrong, it's not as if I don't snap at him every other day or have fallen in love with him, but the situation is less tense then before.
It is hot one day, getting up in the nineties, and I am wearing my normal attire. Two weeks have passed, consisting of tennis ball Bludgers and tossing Quaffles in circles, and today, I see a line of broomsticks lying on the ground. My heart drops and my throat starts feeling quite closed up.
"Okay class, today, we will be attempting to hover above the ground, and steer the broomstick. This is a pretty simple task, and I trust you all can do it!" The other kids are talking excitedly and clapping their hands at the new skills they would be learning. "Everyone needs to go pick up a broom from the pile over there," James says, which results in all of the students rushing over to the pile of brooms and snatching at them. I wait behind, and grab the lone one left behind.
"I want you all to mount your broomstick like this," he said, swinging his leg over smoothly as an example. I could appreciate the skill he possessed for Quidditch, knowing how hard he worked for it. Closing my eyes, I hope and pray that my clumsiness and fear would not get in the way. Come on, it was only hovering! I can do this.
"Okay, now just give yourself a little shove off the ground," he instructs, and is now floating in the air. Okay, Lily, come on. You can do this. One by one, everyone around me pushes off the ground and hovers. Everyone, except for me.
"Come on Lily!" encourages Oliver, who's hovering a few feet away from me. I close my eyes, my broom beneath me, and give a tiny shove. I feel myself slowly rising, and my feet are dangling an inch above the ground. The nausea that I felt before is present again.
"James," I whisper, feeling like I might pass out at any second. I feel like all the blood is rushing to my feet, and the temperature has increased tenfold. I don't open my eyes, but I feel James gliding over to me, probably noticing my awful discomfort.
He instructs the class again, and says, "Everyone fly down to that goal post right down there." I imagine him pointing, his long tan arm stretching out and his finger extending. My eyes are still shut tightly, and I don't dare open them.
The whoosh of fifteen brooms flying through the air fills my ears, and I think I might be alone. That is, until I feel a large hand on my back.
"Lily, are you okay, you don't look so good?" The use of my first name catches me off guard. Sure, we have been warming up to each other, but this is a big step. I have an urge to snap at him, tell him it's Evans, but I can't bring myself to do it. Maybe it's because of our budding friendship, or maybe it's because of the terrifying situation I am in at the current moment. Whatever the reason is, though, I still hold back.
Although I am now hovering only about a foot of the ground, or at least I think I am, it feels like I'm a million feet above the ground.
"How do I get down?" I whisper, choking back the bile that is rising in my throat. James's hand is still resting lightly on my back, and I know he can feel the shakes racking through me. Part of the shakes are from fear, but a lot are from my heart, which is beating faster then I can imagine. His hand on my back feels like it's searing a hole in my shirt, like it's burning me. It feels amazing.
"Lily, you're not even a foot above the ground, you're fine. You won't fall." I shake my head, feeling like I might burst into sobs at any moment.
"Just get me down! I don't feel good," I cry, tears building behind my eyelids. He doesn't say a word, only slowly lowers me to the ground. As soon as my feet feel the thick surface beneath them, I drop the broom and take off running. My feet pound against the earth, sneakers on grass. The sounds of his calls are muffled by the ringing in my ears, but I know I can't turn around. I've made a complete idiot of myself, getting frightened by such an idiotic thing.
This isn't what a Gryffindor should act like. I should be brave, I should turn around to face my fears, but I can't. The ragged breathing tearing through my lungs and throat tell me how wrong I was. I can't be an Auror; I can't fight Voldemort if such silly little things stand in my way. If I can't hurtle over this obstacle, think of what other things I'll trip on.
When I reach the dining hall, I'm panting, but I don't stop there. I need to get out of here, to leave this camp. Maybe not forever, but for today. Come on, I passed my Apparation test. I do this every morning; I've just got to focus.
I close my eyes, and concentrate hard. I feel the familiar tug at my navel and stand in front of my house in seconds. It's a small, two-story house, complete with round shaped hedges in the front and a gorgeous wrap around porch. It's painted a faded yellow, with the shutters painted blue. It's a quirky little house, and it stands out from the rest on the street, but that's why I love it.
I walk up the front steps, and into the house, finding myself being gravitated toward the kitchen. When I walk into the tiny cooking area, I find my mother scrubbing down the counters, obviously just finished with breakfast.
"Hullo," I greet lightly, trying to pretend that nothing is wrong. The second she turns around to look at me, surprise on her face, I realize she knows something is wrong. Maybe it is my tear-stained cheeks or red face, but she strides over to me and wraps me in her arms, not a word said.
"I can't do it," I murmur into her shoulder, my voice cracking as it leaves my lips. She shushes me, telling me to say no more, and rubs soothing circles into my back. I hear the pitter-patter of feet in the hallway, and then the presence of another person in the room. I untangle myself from my mother's arms, and turn to see Petunia standing in the doorframe.
Things between us have been more tense than usual, for the fact that I'm spending most of my summer away. When I had arrived home, and told my family of my plan, my mother and father had been quite cautious.
"Do you think it's worth it, spending your whole summer away?" asked Dad, "We barely see you during the school year, don't you want to spend any time with us?"
Mom had asked in her caring way, "Do you think you'll be alright, knowing your fear of heights?"
Petunia's reaction was the worst though. She was silent throughout the whole discussion, not saying a word. When the two girls stood up to do the dishes as always happened in the summer, Petunia has spoken quietly, and not with the usual shrill tone in her voice.
"I was looking forward to spending the summer with you, of us leaving the magic behind for just a few months. I see you three months out of every year, and now you're shortening that too. Sometimes I don't even feel like I have a sister." It was accusing or blame-filled, just sorrow-filled. After the chores were finished, and I headed up for bed, I heard the cries from my sister's room. Was it possible she actually cared, underneath the mean words and jarring attitude?
So, as I see her standing there at the doorway, she gives me this look, somewhere between pity and anger, before turning on her heel, and flouncing out of the room. A part of me wants to run after her, to tell her that I would give up, that we could go back to a summer without magic or Hogwarts and forget that Severus was living so close. But I know I can't do that.
"You want a glass of lemonade?" asks Mom, grabbing my attention away from Tuney. I nod, and walk over to sit at the table. After pouring me a glass, she comes and sits next to me. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I think about saying no, but realize I can't hold it in any longer. So explain to her everything. I ramble on and on, about Alice getting me into camp, and my mixed feelings for James. I tell her about everything, about how I felt sitting on that broom and the fear that racked through me. Half an hour later, when everything was spilled out and my heart had finally stopped beating erratically.
"Sweetheart, I'm confused," she confesses. "Do you like this boy or not? Every year, you've come home telling us when a pain he has been and how much you hate him."
"I...I don't know." She nods, asking me to go on. "He's such a prat sometimes! He infuriates me, makes me want to tear my hair out. But then I get these stupid feelings, like jealousy, and it makes me reevaluate everything. And when he touched me-on the back- today, I felt... I got all these butterflies and..." I realize I can't find the words for it.
"Stop thinking with your head," Mom says, "And let your heart guide you." With that, without addressing the fear of heights or any other part of my story she stands up and starts to walk out of the room, calling on her way out, "I can't force you to go back, but if you let this stand in your way, then you're not the Lily Evans I know."
It takes me awhile, but I decide to go back, to collect my things at least, and explain to Alice my sudden departure. They say a team is only as strong as it's weakest link. Well, I'm only as strong as my greatest weakness. I guess I'll just have to take things one day at a time.
Since I rewarded you all with two chapters in one day, you all can reward me by reviewing. Go on, do it. REVIEWS MAKE LILY AND JAMES GET TOGETHER SOONER! REVIEWS MAKE ME UPDATE FASTER! REVIEWS MAKE ME POST TWICE IN ONE DAY! gogogo and revieww please.