Thanks for your thoughts, loves :)

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. This author knows Lily is not a good person here, she hopes you know she is not a good person here, this story is not condoning bad behavior, just exploring it, if you are uncomfortable you can always stop reading, I won't mind :) Art work by the super talented windbyfire (insta)

This Is What Heartbreak Feels Like ~ JVKE

Most of the Order stayed glued to the magic mirror for the rest of the day, watching Evans getting grilled as though it was the Quidditch World Cup. It wasn't until nearly 7 that night that McGonagall came into the room and informed Moody that they were about to break the Wizarding Geneva Conventions and had to give Evans a break or they'd be committing torture. Moody had grumbled that Evans probably knew all about how much Veritaserum a witch's body could take before the solution started deteriorating their mind. (She did in fact know, and apparently it was five days' worth.)

However, in that time, James felt as though he'd learnt more about Evans than he had from living an entire school year with her. She'd revealed that her parents had died when she was extremely young, so most of her earliest memories had been at an orphanage that had abused her. Her sister had been adopted before her, but convinced the family that they were better off without her 'freak' younger sister. Evans had finally dared to hope for a better life when she turned 8 and was taken in by a foster family, but they'd beaten her too. It wasn't until shortly after, when Voldemort had apparently learned about her and become oddly fascinated (Evans said he never told her why) that she'd felt like she'd been saved. He'd told her that he'd had a similar upbringing and not to worry, because her distrust of Muggles was normal — because they weren't even human, so of course they were jealous of her power and capabilities. And that yes, all of them beat and bullied anyone who was even slightly different than them. That was just 'the way Muggles are.'

From the sound of it, James thought that Voldemort had twisted her pain into hatred and rage. Throw playdates with Bellatrix into the mix (something Sirius seemed to remember) and who could blame the girl for turning evil? Well, James thought, I suppose the rest of the Order still can. But then again, none of them had ever known Evans like he had. None of them saw her as human.

"I had to stop them. I couldn't let them keep hurting us." It was the line Moody had forced out of Evans that still haunted James. It was as though she'd really bought into all of Voldemort's lies.

When the Head Auror had shouted back, "Stupid girl, you're a Muggle-born, couldn't you see that you were the one hurting them?! Muggles are your people!" Evans had all but shut down, her logic apparently at war with everything Voldemort had taught her over the years — or maybe even with what she'd seen with her own eyes.

Who knew. It turned out James didn't. It was like he had never even really known her at all.

"No. I'm not," Evans had finally declared. "I am a witch."

She had also revealed that she'd never actually directly killed anyone (indirectly she had no idea), which had always been a major point of contention on her side. She said that she'd been asked to perform Avada Kedavra as her initiation into the Death Eaters in 7th year and that she'd been reduced to tears instead and fled back to Hogwarts.

James had swallowed a lump down his throat when he heard that story. He remembered that night. He also remembered what had happened between them directly afterwards. James found that he couldn't stomach going to any more of her interrogations after that.

"Pardon?" James asked in Dumbledore's office four days later. It was Friday night, and he was anxious he was going to be late for his night out with Sirius. His best friend was convinced that Rebecca moving into their old apartment — now just James', for one more night — would signal the end of James' true bachelorhood and therefore, basically the end of his life. James knew it was dramatic, but he was going to allow Sirius to throw him 'one last night of debauchery,' even though he very much knew that life wasn't over in the slightest. His more romantic side could even argue: it was only just beginning.

"I said the Order would very much appreciate it if you could house and protect Miss Evans until we find her a more permanent safe home in the future."

Oh. So that was exactly what he just said. James really needed people to stop dropping bombshells at his front door. "I'm sorry, I don't understand why that's a good idea." James scratched his chin. "Like at all."

If he wasn't mistaken, it looked like Dumbledore was giving him a small smile underneath all the wispy white facial hair. "Well, for starters, you're one of the top performing Aurors that the Ministry has. You have the best ratio of assigned to completed missions, and yet no one has ever filed a complaint against you." He didn't need to say it, but James knew that his partner Sirius had had a few write-ups against him over the years for excessive use of force. The man just couldn't seem to help himself when arresting bigoted scum like the Malfoys. "This makes me think that you could put your differences aside and treat Miss Evans in a dignified manner, even if some of what she says might go against your very core personal beliefs."

Well, no shit, James thought. He wanted to make his parents proud — so of course he wouldn't bully people he disagreed with. What am I? Still in 5th year? James had long ago realized that doing that made him no better than the people he was fighting against and that revenge never tasted as sweet as he imagined it would in his head. Hatred really did paint anyone it touched with the ugliest of brushes. He also knew that most of the times he had bullied people in the past, he'd used the excuse that he was doing it for the greater good — they were Slytherins, they were bad people, etc — and he'd bragged about how putting some people down had actually been about lifting others up. But in reality? He'd just needed that outlet, that path for all his teenage angst to go down, because it had made him feel better about himself. He hadn't actually helped anyone, only his own ego, because if there was someone else to punch down, that meant he couldn't be the one on the absolute bottom. In practice: he'd just been a little bitch. A big part of growing up had been taking accountability for his actions and, well… growing the fuck up.

Well, with a few exceptions. He might still pants Snape if he ever saw the git again, and yeah, he was willing to make himself look like an immature brat for doing it. "Okay, but—"

"Also," Dumbledore continued, "you two have experience living together, so I think it would make her more comfortable to live with someone she already knows. She's been through a lot, Mr Potter. Let's not forget that the only semblance of family, as deviant and deranged as though it might have been, has just been ripped away from her."

Make her? James' mind screamed. Make her more comfortable?! What about me, Merlin-damnit? "Sir, I'm sorry, but I don't think…" James ran both his hands through his hair completely flustered. If he'd have known it would all come down to this, yeah, maybe he should have let the bitch die. He looked up at Dumbledore, his eyes pleading with everything he had. "I don't think I can do this." He really hoped the man could hear the all-out desperation in his voice. Please don't make me do this, he was begging. Because honestly? He knew exactly what would happen if he did do this. History had shown him that.

"I think I remember a young man coming into my office almost exactly 10 years ago saying the same thing."

Yeah. And he'd been right! James screeched internally.

"It's what the Order needs, James," Dumbledore continued in his most gentle yet somehow powerful voice. James really had no idea how the man did it — he was a living icon. "I hope you won't let us down."

Well, fuck.

"You're doing what?!" Sirius said coughing out his Firewhisky across the booth from James at The Fuchsia Flamingo later that night. "No. No—"

"I know," James replied glumly as he downed a shot of tequila. Suddenly one last night of debauchery was exactly what he needed — considering he felt like he was about to die now. Bloody Sirius was right…

"What did Rebecca say?"

Shit. "Well, I haven't gotten a chance to tell her yet—" James said in a panic.

"Oh, wonderful. Well, I'm sure that will go over just swell." Sirius put on a fake high voice absolutely nothing like James' as he mimicked, "Hello darling. Well, I've got a bit of rotten news. It turns out that you're not moving in this weekend, but instead the bird who took my virginity and any last dregs of my dignity is. See you later, smooches!"

James slapped a hand to his face while he tried to politely decline more shots from a waitress. Sirius ignored him and accepted two more tequilas anyway, promptly handing one to James. "Fuck. Becks can't move in now, can she?"

"Are you insane?" Sirius asked. "Start your new life with your girlfriend while your old one is living in the guest room? That will be a fun way to—"

"Evans was never my girlfriend," James interjected with a meaningful stare. It was the truth — she wasn't. What they had had had been intense, and twisted, but never an actual… never a meaningful… It was though, James fought with himself. It had been one of the most meaningful relationships of his life. It had just never been a real one.

Sirius raised an eyebrow but thought better than to fight James on the semantics. "Fine. But no. Rebecca can't move in when you have Evans living in the flat with you."

James downed his shot and reached for Sirius', downing it too. The man gave him a look, but allowed it. "She can't live with me, Pads. She just— she just—" he grimaced as he looked for the right words.

Sirius patted his shoulder, cutting him off. "I know, Prongs, I know. I was there." James looked out over the dance floor of the bar, unable to witness the pity in his best friend's eyes. "I know what she put you through."

James found that all he was able to do in response was nod.

Sirius carried on. "It's not your job to save her. Like sure, Vance said that she's clean now and that no one can be that good at deception, blah blah, but I dunno. I remember what she was like at Hogwarts. People that rotten to the core can't change that much. I don't care if she claims she's seen the ghost of Merlin or whatever the fuck she says flipped her. She's evil."

James looked back at Sirius, nursing his original Firewhisky again. He flicked his wrist, making the giant ice cube in the glass chink its way in a lazy circle. "Yeah… what else did she say during the interrogations?" Just because James hadn't been able to stomach going back to see Evans under the influence of Veritaserum, didn't mean the rest of the Order hadn't. And doesn't mean I wasn't deadly curious to know everything.

Sirius tilted his head, pushing back some of his silky hair. "A lot of stuff. She detailed some more of the abuse she got as a kid — that shit really won Marlene over, had the girl convinced that maybe all Evans needed was some therapy," Sirius scoffed. "Then basically, she admitted that Voldemort had been the only one who'd known she was Muggle-born before Bellatrix had outed her, and now she's lost the trust of her fellow gang… not really sure how that works, because you'd think his opinion would trump all theirs, no? But it sounds like she doesn't hate Muggle-borns, just Muggles, but I dunno, does that really matter in the grand scheme of things? Like, look who you've aligned yourself with, pal. Also, if those same people who you were so fine rubbing shoulders with earlier want to kill you now, I dunno, maybe you deserve it?"

James nodded, completely overwhelmed. If Voldemort had known all along that Evans was Muggle-born, why had he taken her in? And if he'd known and it hadn't bothered him… why hadn't he protected her from his own cult when the truth came out? Don't think he cares about other people the same way normal people do, buddy, James reasoned with himself. "Weren't Bellatrix and Evans best friends at Hogwarts?" James posed it as a question even though he was absolutely sure they had been. Every fact about Evans that he'd ever known had been branded inside his skull for all eternity.

"Yeah, but Evans says she was always Voldemort's favorite. Maybe it finally got to Bellatrix. You know how psycho that bitch is." It was true. It was one of the reasons that James never understood just how Evans could even stand her. Evil though she may be, Evans had always been calm, more cunning than outwardly chaotic. Evans had struck James as someone who watched her prey from afar to get to know their every move before playing with them to death. Bellatrix would just go up to her enemy, slit their throat, and be done with it. "I wouldn't put it past her to find the first excuse she could to try to exile Evans from the group so that she could get all the attention for herself." Sirius chuckled darkly. "Hell. Even if Evans wasn't Muggle-born, I could see Bellatrix publicly claiming that she was just because it would make Evans' name poison. I'm sure Death Eaters would rather kill her to save face and show just how high and mighty they were — all pretentious to their cause — than actually ask questions. Bellatrix is psychotic, but you gotta give her props on her perfect execution of fascist methods."

James didn't know if he agreed with that. He'd rather take his opponents down without the help of subterfuge. Playing dirty like that? It was for the weak at heart. "Any idea how Evans' blood status came out?"

"Apparently she was supposed to kill a Muggle-born, or blimey, I guess another Muggle-born — I still can't get over the fact that she is one — but anyway, that was what finally cracked her. She refused, Bellatrix went digging… found out her whole backstory, and here we are."

"Okay… but then why do we have to protect her? Like… why didn't Moody just ship her off to Azkaban for being part of a terrorist organization in the first place?" James asked.

"Oh, he tried, man," Sirius said with a little disbelieving shake of his head. "He tried, and Dumbledore vetoed him."

"What?" What the hell is with this guy?! "Why?"

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. He said something about how Evans being Muggle-born made her an unfair target, and how we've put other Death Eaters in Azkaban who would probably kill her as soon as she got there."

The way Sirius said it very much made it clear to James that he thought, 'So what, just let her die,' which he didn't agree with, but still. He didn't understand why Evans had to be his problem. "And we're sure she's on the straight and narrow now? Like…" James bit his bottom lip. "We're sure?"

"Moody seemed convinced, Vance was convinced, heck, even Shacklebolt was on board, and you know how that man is skeptical of everything." True. "I guess when your former best friend tries to poison you, it makes you take a good hard look at yourself and wonder, Hey. Am I maybe the bad guy?"

James snorted as he brought his glass to his lips. "Well, let's hope they find her a permanent safe home somewhere in Australia very, very soon." For her protection from the psychos, but mostly, for his own sanity. He would not let Evans bring him down with her depravity — not again.

Sirius clinked his glass to James', even though he was already drinking from it, making James partially choke.

Becks had taken the news that James had to delay their move-in by a yet-to-be-determined amount of time because he had to protect another woman just about as well as he thought she would — perfectly well, logically, and trustingly — and holy hell. I'm the worst boyfriend in the world.

James supposed she had no reason to be suspicious. Not that there IS a reason to be suspicious, right buddy? Rebecca had no idea about his history with Evans; no one did. Their dalliances had been a well kept secret, while their fights? Those had been dragged out, public affairs.

"Don't let her get under your skin again," had been her brilliant advice. If only she knew that James would have better luck not breathing. Evans knew not only how to get under his skin, but how to inject herself directly into his very veins.

James tried not to think about how screwed he was. Just don't let her in at all. Be cold as ice, hell, be a downright dick to her. Sure, it's how we started in school, but by the end of it all, I'd basically become her bitch so… Fuck. No, he couldn't repeat the same mistakes, never again. This time he had to hold his ground. Fine. This time I won't be an asshole, I'll be indifferent… Yeah, that will drive her crazy. Plus, it was definitely the more mature approach, acting as though for a few months his whole world hadn't completely revolved around her axis.

It was brilliant. It was foolproof.

It will never work, James thought as he stared into her beautiful green eyes. Fuck.

James broke eye contact first as he took a giant step back, releasing Evans' hand that he'd just been ever so tightly clutching to Apparate her into his home. He still couldn't believe that this was actually happening to him. He couldn't believe she was here. This place used to feel so safe, and now it felt like a cage, trapping him inside with his worst nightmare.

James ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Your room is that one," he said, nudging his head towards the door down the hall. Sirius' old room.

Evans' eyes lingered on him for longer than he was comfortable with before she turned to look in the direction he'd indicated. James finally took his chance to stealthily check her out. She had on a nondescript black teeshirt and jeans that fit just a little too snuggly to drip anything other than pure sex appeal. Marlene had gone out and done some impromptu shopping for some basics for her, and James had to guess that just how Muggle these clothes were must be his cousin's way of making a subtle dig at Evans' (former?!) beliefs. However, as far as he knew, Evans hadn't thrown a fit over it or anything. James hated how much he looked into the move, or he guessed lack of a move, as proof of her change of heart in the war.

And then the Order had sent her away from the Headquarters. Sent her to his place. For fuck's sake…

Sirius had been right: she looked good. Damn good. James had never really noticed how rounded her cheeks must have been at school because time had slimmed them down now, making her cheekbones look far more angular. The contrast transformed her from pretty girl-next-door to a more unobtainable model look. Her lashes remained dark and long, and her eyes were the exact same almond shape that had mesmerized him at Hogwarts — but they were no longer lined with the same harsh black kohl that she had always sported back then. James really hoped Marlene hadn't been kind enough to pack her makeup too, because he really didn't think he could handle Evans when she was in her element.

She turned back to him and held up her tiny bag in the palm of her hand, clearly needing his wand to transform it back to its original size. James grunted, leading her to her room. He'd nearly forgotten: they'd taken away her wand as a precaution. James thought that if there was still a slight possibility that she would attack him that maybe she shouldn't be here. But who truly had common sense nowadays anyway?

He plucked Evans' bag out of her hand and charmed it back to its usual dimensions. Intent to keep true to his indifference plan, he promptly spun on his heel, ready to walk across the hall, and lock himself in his bedroom. He could just as easily 'guard' the defenseless ex-Death Eater from there. Being under job-mandated house arrest didn't mean that he had to actually babysit an adult woman, did it? He just had to be around, in her general vicinity in the unlikely event that someone found out his already pretty top secret address and broke through half a dozen wards. (He was an Auror who also worked for the Order, it wasn't like security hadn't always been a priority.)

"James?" Her voice sounded the same. Her voice sounded exactly the same as it had a decade ago, and in all his dreams since when he'd heard her say his name, just like this. The melodic sound froze him in his tracks and made him squeeze his eyes shut, really hoping he wouldn't have to turn back around to face her. He felt like he'd already hit his limit of seeing her, of being able to stand being near her again, for one night.

"Mm?"

"Could you please…" she let out a sigh of frustration. James remembered just how much she'd never liked asking for help, having always preferred to do things herself. It gave him a little burst of satisfaction knowing she was inconvenienced now. Not nearly as much as I am having to be in her presence, but still. At least a little. "Could you please transfigure me a bed?"

Oh. James had completely forgotten that this room was no longer furnished. He'd been so hyper-focused on Evans, and her body, and just the fucking energy she gave off, (or that he could feel being given off of her… and then being stuck inside his head wondering if she could feel it too, FUCK), that he hadn't noticed that the only things presently on the floor were a dirty sock with little red dog bones and a clothes hanger.

"Sure," he mumbled before quickly turning the hanger into a mattress and the sock into a blanket. It was disgusting… and yet precisely what she deserved. "Goodnight."

James marched for the door, seeing his escape from her, at least for the night, and he was nearly there when she spoke again, destroying what little dignity he had left: "Did you ask to guard me?"

"What?" The absurdity of the question propelled James around. She couldn't possibly think that he would do such a thing… did she? Was she that self-confident, that delusional?

That astute that she can still read me like a book, even when I can't, won't, shouldn't read my true inner desires myself?

"No, of course not. Why would I do that?"

She kept staring at him, gorgeous eyes boring into his, but her expression was one he wasn't familiar with, at least not on her beautiful face. What was it? Regret? Pity? Whatever it was, it didn't fit her. Not for the first time, James cursed her ability to keep her authentic thoughts so close to the vest. He'd never been able to achieve that same aloofness, that same overwhelming air of mystery. His mother had always told him that he wore his emotions on his sleeve and encouraged him to strut it around like the badge of honor that it was.

James wished he could shut those emotions off now — or maybe just burn the whole Merlin-damn sleeve for good.

"I don't know," she lied. He wasn't surprised, she'd always been so good at lying.

James scoffed. "Did you ask for me?" She'd always been good at games too.

"No," she deadpanned. "I know you hate me."

James' head gave an angry little jerk. "Can you blame me?"

"No."

Oh, this bitch. Now she's being all agreeable? Uh-uh, buddy, James wasn't falling for it. "Look, I know you're trying to turn your life around and what not, but this whole new attitude you've got? I don't buy it. I know you." He snorted. "Well. I kinda knew you I guess." He distractedly stuffed a hand through his hair before muttering, "Didn't know you were a bloody Muggle-born though…"

"Would it have changed things?" When James took a beat before wordlessly sputtering at her, she tacked on, "Would it have changed the way you treated me?"

"Huh? No!" James exclaimed, flabbergasted by the woman standing before him. "Why would I have— it was your side who cared about that shit, I would never have—"

"Bullshit," she cut him off.

"What?!" James yelled, his hands getting more and more animated. "Of course I wouldn't have—"

"You wouldn't have seen me as weaker? Seen me as needing protecting? Needing defending?"

"You bloody do need protecting! I'd think that you more than anyone else should realize just how dangerous it is to be a Muggle-born right now!"

"Yeah, well, not by choice." The louder he got, the more she seemed to whisper. It reminded him of the power of a firm, calm stance. "I never chose to be born like this. And I have never been weak."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and thought about trying again. He was mad at her, oh, he was so bloody mad at her. But how could he stay mad, or express that anger when she was saying shit like that? He'd never treated her any differently because of her heritage, hell, he'd never even known her heritage, so her acting as though he would have if he'd have known was truly a low blow. But he still really wanted to drive the point home that none of what she'd done for as long as he'd known her had ever been okay, despite whatever pain she was in now. Or I suppose whatever pain she's saying she's always been masking. James wasn't stupid enough to think that being a Muggle-born gave her an excuse to be a murderous psychopath."I would never have seen you as weaker because of who your parents were, Evans. I always knew how strong you are." Great job, James. Instead of demanding any sort of accountability, he'd just gone straight ahead and complimented her. Wonderful.

"I never meant to hurt you."

Just when he thought that he may have figured this witch out, she went and said something completely unexpected like that, knocking James flat on his arse. "Pardon?"

"What I did to you, how I treated you? It wasn't right. And…" She waited for him to look at her, look her dead in the eye. He used to get lost in those. "I'm sorry."

He hadn't been expecting that either. Her eyes flickered to the bottom half of his face and James realized that his jaw had gone lax somewhere along the lines — her lines. He swiftly closed his mouth.

"I should never have ended things with you the way that I did."

Don't give her the power, don't do it. It would be all too easy to crumble at her feet; to pretend like what she had done hadn't been one of the biggest turning points in his life. He wanted to ask her why, ask her what the hell had happened and why she had thrown him out like he was garbage. But he couldn't, he knew that. "It's fine. I was way better off without you," James lied, full well knowing she'd left a shattered shell of man in her wake that had taken years to put back together. "You were toxic for me." That's true at least.

"Yeah." She was looking up at him through her thick lashes, and it was the first time since they'd gotten to James' place that he noticed just how far apart they were standing from one another. Good, he thought to himself, Bad, his body said at the same time. "I hear you're with Rebecca Levine now, right?" she inquired innocently.

Well, to the untrained ear it sounded like an innocent question. But this wasn't James' first go-around. "Nah uh, Evans. Fuck off, don't even start—"

She smiled. He hated when she smiled all cute like this. She could get away with murder. "What am I starting?"

"Nope, I don't want to hear it." James shook his head, temporarily biting his tongue with his front teeth.

"I didn't even say anything," Lily defended as she shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the mattress, craning her neck even more to continue looking up at him. She was so damn cruel. She had to know what seeing her on a bed would do to him — what sort of imagery it would inspire in his mind.

"I'm not 17 anymore, Evans," James said with a deep sigh. "I'm not dumb enough to dump my girlfriend because you say something to get in my head about her—"

Her smile stretched, showing off all her perfect, straight teeth. "I didn't say anything about her."

"You were about to. Ooh, you were about to say something snarky about Becks to try to get me to doubt her." James was one hundred percent sure of it. "Fine. Whatever, it won't work," he threw out, letting the stale air of the room expand his lungs. "Go on, what was it?"

Lily shook her head, making her hair slip over her shoulder as she leaned back onto both her palms, resting leisurely on the mattress, technically his mattress, behind her. "You've really gotten paranoid in your old age."

He squinted at her before snorting, realizing she was kidding. Everything with Evans had always felt so tense — a violin string stretched too tightly, ready to snap at any second — that it was hard to recognize when she was trying to insert some levity into their conversations. "That's the thing about age, Evans. You'll forever have me beat."

"Don't I always?"

James looked down at his shoes, fingers moving up to surreptitiously scratch at his cheek so that she wouldn't see that her wit had made him smile, just like it always used to.

"I was going to say you two make sense," she finally said when it became clear he wouldn't take her bait. "Rebecca has always liked you… and, well, it seems as though you guys have the same code of ethics, so… sounds like a perfect match."

His eyes scanned up slowly to hers, trying to decipher the secret meaning, the definite slight that she must have slipped into her words. He addressed the more obvious, and truthfully ego-stroking, aspect of what she'd just said. "How do you know she's always liked me?"

Lily tilted her head as she let out a pretty little titter. "I was aware of everyone who liked you at school, James. Call it a… vested interest."

Man, she's good. He wasn't used to this much honesty from her, but he was definitely used to her worming her way into his good graces to try to get something in return. Unfortunately for James, recognizing and being able to fend off her underhanded attacks were two entirely different matters. Fuck it. "Did you… ever like me?" He knew he was exposing too much with the question, giving her all the power in the world to rip out his heart again and squeeze it in the palm of her hand until his blood oozed out between her fingers and puddled pitifully onto the floor, but he couldn't help it. He had to know — his very sanity hung in the balance. Did any of us ever scar you in the same way that it maimed me?

Lily's eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening as she surveyed James in front of her. He could have sworn the forgotten clock in the corner of the room slowed to a glacial pace as it ticked thunderously loud, taunting him.

"Yes."

James nearly choked. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I actually liked you."

Yeah, that was a bad fucking idea, what the fuck is wrong with you, James?!

He threw a goodnight over his shoulder as he quickly left the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Next Chapter: Monsters ~ Ruelle