James was the type to be singleminded and obsessive at the same time, which did not bode well for him—or for others—sometimes.

How else would he have stubbornly clung onto Lily for the past six years, tragically waxing poetry over a love that was unrequited, and humiliating himself with every public proposal and equally public rejection, if he wasn't the singleminded and obsessive idiot that he was? Others would've caved under Lily's wrath, but no, James had thrived in it.

Or at least, he thought he was thriving in it.

Nowadays, whenever Lily made him remember the worst parts of himself, whenever she made him feel wretched for the ordeal that he had put her through for the past six years, and whenever she showed how much she hated him because of the way that he acted like an immature tosser, it left him dispirited for the entire day.

Even though he had decided to move on, to ignore her and no longer become the pest that she thought he was, six years of habit was still hard to break.

There were times when he forgot about his own choices and decisions, when he would look at Lily and try to impress her with a cheeky smile or a ruffle of his hair, when he would shout her name regardless of the place they were in and call her every pet name under the sun to get her attention, when he would weaken at the sight of her smile and he would find himself trying to carve a piece of himself into her by subjecting her to whatever plan he could think of.

Sirius was often confused by his behavior, after the conversation they'd just have, and James couldn't blame him.

James was an addict, and Lily was his addiction.

How could he let go and move on, especially when looking at her would bring him back to the beginning?

James tried though. Whenever he caught himself, often through Lily's blatant dislike, disregard, and rejection, he would retreat and start the cycle again. Her apparent dislike of him was enough to bring him back to the present, to remind him that he should stop bothering her and start moving on.

So, he stayed away, and like an addict, he suffered withdrawals.

It wasn't easy knowing that the person you admired, the person you loved, the person you wanted to die for, hated your entire being. The more Lily showed her dislike, the more James suffered the blow.

Oftentimes, even watching Granger wasn't enough to distract him anymore.

Lily held a powerful sway over his emotions to the point that he needed a proper distraction to get away from the churning in his stomach, the burden that pressed against his chest, and the failure hammering into his head, again and again.

Distractions were good. It made James divert his focus from Lily—from the gut wrenching pain—to other matters—not related to Lily, most preferably.

Sometimes, he took up flying. There was nothing more distracting than flying in the air, broom between his legs, chasing the clouds, and aiming at the sun, as the wind tousled his hair, robes billowing noisily behind him, and glasses fogging with cold air. Quidditch players had free reign over the pitch, as long as they put a reservation ahead of time. James, the Quidditch Captain, had taken advantage of his captaincy to reserve a spot in the pitch for an indefinite period of time.

In the sky, among the clouds, it gave James time to shake off the remnants of Lily's disdain from his system.

Other times—when his emotions got the best of him—James would take up dueling. The Dueling Club had long been established in Hogwarts Academy, a revered club that encouraged students from fourth to seventh year to join. It wasn't mandatory, but a lot of people joined every year, with the new Ravenclaw Head of House, Professor Flitwick, as the coordinator. James and the other Marauders had participated in the Dueling Club since their fourth year and hadn't missed a meeting since.

They did not have a fixed schedule regarding club activities. Rather, it was lax, although they were still required to attend meetings. It was a fun club to visit when they needed a partner to help them with the practical aspects of magic. Sometimes, they visited to polish their skills, just to prepare themselves for their chosen careers in the future. Other times, it was because dueling was fun, especially when it was against their friends and rivals.

James initially joined because he wanted to be an Auror in the future. Joining the Dueling Club seemed like the smart choice. Overtime, the reason why he kept coming back changed. The Dueling Club served as an instrument and outlet to his more volatile emotions. Besides, there were least chances of him finding Lily there when she had quit two years ago to focus more on her academic studies.

Most of the time though, James would hunt Snape down and start tormenting him. He didn't even realize that he was doing it, covering his pain by causing pain to others.

It wasn't until recently that James began to see that his coping mechanism whenever Lily hurt him was malicious, bordering on cruelty.

Because when Lily hurt him, James hurt others instead, and he hurt himself most of all.

When he took up flying, he would make threatening, death-defying stunts and attempts, to the point that when Professor McGonagall saw him, she had berated him for being careful. When he took up dueling, he would, more or less, be sloppy with his wand work until he left the battle with more bruises and wounds that Madame Pomfrey would tsk at.

He truly hadn't realized it until he found himself taunting Snape and the rest of his snakes. One hand in the pocket of his robes as he twirled his wand, his head cocked to the side, arrogance in his posture as if he owned the very walls that made up Hogwarts. He had his friends with him, as loyal and steadfast to protect and defend him.

James didn't even know how he got there, but he knew that he sought out Snape after Lily had called him an "arrogant, obsessed pig who couldn't take a hint" to one of her friends, derision and scorn coloring her lilted voice. It was instinctual. It had been easy to turn to Snape, most of all.

He hadn't realized until he found himself in a skirmish against the Slytherins, throwing hexes and curses left and right with nearly mindless and careless casting. He hadn't realized until he ended up floating upside the head, wand clattering on the floor below, his hair singed by the Incendio one of Snape's friends casted to his direction.

Looking around, he found that he wasn't the only one floating and flailing mid-air, their wands out of reach, and looking ahead, he found that the person responsible for his state was none other than Granger.

He felt a shiver down his spine when she surveyed them with cool, lackluster eyes, her arms crossed over her torso, exposing her dainty thin wrists when the sleeves of her robes slid up her arm. Her curly hair was as wild as she was cold, haphazardly cascading down her back in rich brown tones. No amount of pins and accessories could ever tame it down.

Nearly all of them had gone silent, blood leaving their faces when they saw Granger standing before them.

She did not have her wand out. She did not utter a charm or a spell that would've alerted them of her presence. Her steps had been as silent as her casting, and James realized how stupid he'd been to get into a fight with the Snape in the middle of the corridor where anyone could see them.

Anyone, meaning: Granger.

Because Albus Dumbledore might be the most powerful wizard known to Wizarding Britain, but he also favored Gryffindors to a degree that they could escape punishment if he willed it to.

Because Professor McGonagall might be impartial at times when handing out punishments, she was also the Head of House and could be lenient to Gryffindors.

Because Lily might not be a Prefect and was the epitome of righteous fury, she would still choose to defend Gryffindor because it was her house and any points taken from them meant points taken from her and she could not have that.

But not Granger.

Granger didn't do favorites. She didn't do lenient. She wasn't impartial nor was she righteous. She was fair and just, and they were all going to pay if she had anything to say about it. She did her job efficiently and no amount of bribes, threats, and blackmails could crumble her sense of responsibility. It made her a good Prefect, and it made her a terrifying force of nature.

James could feel himself trembling, and he tried to plaster a cheeky smile, concealing the fear beneath. "Hey, Granger! Fancy seeing you here!" He called out, like the dead wizard he was.

"James, shut up," Remus hissed somewhere behind him, and really, his fear was understandable because he saw what Granger was capable of.

Granger had proven to them that she was still deadly even when she wasn't in the same room as them.

Granger opened her mouth and spoke in a dry remark, her voice as soft as Egyptian silk, "Just when I was hoping for a quiet morning, I happened to find you."

Someone—likely Peter or maybe it was Mulciber?—let out a whimper.

Granger sighed, looking rather put out to have found them. She snapped her fingers, and James let out an "oof!" when he fell in a heap on the ground, along with the rest of them. Their wands flew in the air and they watched, silent and dry-mouthed, when their wands landed in Granger's waiting hands.

"I'll be taking these," Granger said when she was presented with gaping mouths and wide eyes, "since you all seem so eager to become mindless, idiotic barbarians than capable, civilized wizards."

"Oy! You're not allowed to do that!" Yaxley exclaimed, scowling at her.

Granger slid cool eyes towards him and he snapped his mouth shut. She didn't speak for a moment, her stare piercing through the Slytherin who squirmed under her scrutiny. After a while, Yaxley bowed his head down, avoiding her eyes, and when he did, Granger looked away.

James would've been impressed if he wasn't as scared as Yaxley.

"20 points will be taken from each of you and will be deducted from your house," Granger began, her voice bland, her face casted in a neutral glow, "for unsupervised and unethical dueling."

She went silent for a while, surveying them, before she said, "You're supposed to be Slytherins."

Her gaze bore down on Snape's group who all looked down on their feet. It was so strange to see a house known for their pride and prejudice against muggleborns, unable to look at a muggleborn in question because she was honestly more terrifying than any of their preconceived notions. Then again, it was hard to think as Granger as a muggleborn when she didn't act like it at all.

Every rule had an exception. Maybe, Granger was theirs.

"Aren't Slytherins supposed to be discreet or, at least, cunning?" Granger raised an eyebrow at them. "You weigh the odds and find an advantage to situations, especially when it comes to combat. That's why your house is known to prioritize self-preservation. There are three of you and four of them—does that look advantageous to you? No wonder Slytherins get a bad reputation, because not only do you have bad characters, you're also stupid."

The Slytherins in question—Snape, Yaxley, and Mulciber—all winced, scowling at their shoes but not offering a word of protest.

"And you"—she turned to James and the rest of the Marauders—"are you all so eager to embody the worst of Gryffindor qualities by acting reckless, hotheaded, and arrogant? Have you all forgotten honor? Because, there's no honor in this duel—only a blatant disregard for life and a palpable prejudiced hatred against another house. For a moment, you made me feel ashamed to be a Gryffindor."

James flinched and couldn't help but shift on his feet when Granger's eyes landed on him and said the next words, "I'm disappointed."

She sighed then uttered coldly, "If you're so eager to kill each other, I suggest to do it at the Dueling Club. At the very least, you all won't be charged with going to Azkaban if you manage to kill the other."

"They started it—" Snape tried to defend themselves, only for Granger to cut him off.

"Oh, I'm sure they did," she said and there was something damning about the way she said it so confidently that James froze on his feet. "But I don't particularly care. All I know is that I found seven crazy wizards who wanted to kill each other in the middle of a corridor, in broad daylight. It meant that my peaceful morning has been ruined, and I don't like having my mornings ruined."

Snape didn't look happy with her statement, pursing his lips and scowling to himself, but Granger ignored him, turning to address them all.

"I'll be handing your wands to your Head of House," she said, and it reminded them that they were currently wand-less and defenseless, vulnerable without access to their magic, "You may now leave."

She didn't wait for them to respond. She simply turned on her heel and walked away, brown curls trailing after her. Snape and his gang gave them vicious glares before they stormed off as well.

"Well, that could've gone better," Sirius grumbled, disgruntled that he was without wand.

"I'm alive," Peter squeaked.

James didn't utter a word. He merely stared at Hermione's retreating back. The more the distance between them grew, the more James' heart sank to his stomach.

He couldn't help but think that he had messed up, that he had done something unforgivable, and that he needed to make up for Granger.

They met later that night, completely by coincidence. He immediately pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his head and stuffed it inside of his pockets, smiling hopefully at her. But Granger merely looked at him dismissively before turning on her heel, and James couldn't help but scurry after her.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out as he tried to catch up to her until they were walking side-by-side. When she didn't respond, he continued, "I… what you've seen earlier this morning, I'm sorry. I'm… I'm not that type of person—"

"You mean you're not the type to bully people or corner them when they're outnumbered?" Granger cut him off, eyes cold, ruthless with her words as usual. "Because from what I've seen, you're the exact person. And here I thought you were growing up."

A twinge in his heart prompted James to speak hurriedly. "I just… I wasn't in a good mood. I-I know it was wrong. I shouldn't have done it. I wasn't thinking right. But you have to understand. Lily—Evans, I mean… she… and I—she said some things that hurt me and it put me—I was in a bad mood—and Snape, he was… he was there."

He felt a lump in his throat, finishing his statement lamely. A dawning sense of horror engulfed him. Why had he done that? He knew that he'd been suffering from another one of Lily's more scathing rejections and words, but it was ultimately his fault—his choice—why he had attacked and cornered Snape.

"He… was there?" Granger repeated, one brow raised, a flash in her eyes that he wasn't versed enough to identify. "Do you know what you sound like? You sound like a tosser, an insensitive little boy who couldn't handle his emotions and decided to take it out to the next convenient person."

James pursed his lips, his eyebrows furrowed, the sting of Granger's words lacerating him. "I… was hurt," he said, voice quiet.

And he didn't quite know who he was speaking to with his last words: Granger or himself.

"Your pain is not an excuse to hurt someone else." Granger stopped in the middle of the dimly lit hallway, and turned to face him, brown eyes glinting with steel. It made him stop as well, reluctant to face her, but he did meet her eyes regardless. "Just because you were in pain, doesn't mean that you're allowed to freely hurt someone else and make them feel the same pain you felt. Take a good look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself if what you did was the right, honorable thing."

James gulped down the lump in his throat. "But, he's Snape…"

Snape. Lily's first friend. Lily's best friend. A Slytherin. The one who yelled and called her a mudblood. That Snape. For as long as he could remember, they disliked each other.

"You're a hypocrite," Granger was quick to ruthlessly say, rendering him speechless. "You think you're a good person, but you're not. You think you're one of the best examples of being a Gryffindor, but you're not. You pride yourself on being a Gryffindor, but you couldn't even exhibit one good quality about it. Look at yourself. Seriously, look at yourself, and ask: do you like what you are and what you've become?"

James inhaled sharply and looked away from her damning eyes and her painful words, his shoulders slumped.

It wasn't fair. Why was Granger defending Snape right now? Why was she taking his side? Couldn't she understand that he was hurting, that despite his efforts to move on from Lily, he would always be subjected to the pain of her dislike for him? Why couldn't she understand that?

"I'm trying," James uttered after a while, a grimace crossing his face. "I'm trying to… to move on, from, you know. Evans. I want to give her the space that she wants. I want to finally stop, just stop being in love with her. But… she continues to look at me like… like I'm the scum of the earth and it just hurts, Granger."

She looked at him for a moment, before replying quietly, "and who's to blame for that?"

James flinched.

Of course, the person to blame was himself, in the end. It was a vicious cycle where the victim was the still the one responsible in the end.

"Don't turn your love into a reason to become cruel, James," she continued, making him look at his own feet, wishing that he was still wearing his Invisibility Cloak to hide himself from her piercing eyes. "Most of all, don't become the person that you, yourself hate."

They went quiet for a while, before Granger sighed and started walking away.

And James didn't have the heart to follow her again for the first time.

He couldn't help but remember what happened earlier, the way Granger had agreed so readily, so easily, that it was James and his friends who started the duel, as if she knew without a doubt that they were the perpetrators. He couldn't help but frown to himself when he remembered how confident she was with her answer as if it was just another easy question from the professors.

She didn't even ask. She didn't even try to confirm. She just agreed…

James understood right then and there that loving Lily hadn't been the dream that it was, but rather a nightmare in disguise. His love for her had twisted him into a malicious and cruel person who would hurt people with casual disregard. It wasn't Lily's fault—all she did was reject him, which she had been fully right to do since she didn't return his feelings—but ultimately, it was himself who made the wrong choices and did those things to other people.

It didn't matter that Snape was a Slytherin, or that he'd been Lily's best friend up until last year when he had called her a mudblood. It didn't matter if Snape was the next coming of Grindelwald. It didn't matter if Snape was a shitty person with a shittier personality.

Snape hadn't done anything to him or to anyone when James had encountered him earlier. It was James who pulled his wand out first and struck the first hex. It was James who had thought it would be a good idea to distract himself from Lily by tormenting Snape once again. It was James who had wanted to hurt Snape when he was hurting as well.

James knew love.

But how could this be love when it wasn't returned? Shouldn't love be a two-way street? Wasn't it a cycle between the lover and the beloved? Didn't love make you want to be a bigger, better person or version of yourself? Was he a bigger, better version of himself when he had maliciously tormented and bullied other people?

He felt drained. He felt tired. But most of all, he felt empty.

This wasn't love.

It couldn't be love.

This was a fake imitation, a small remnant and piece of what it once was. Once, it had been great. Once. But now it had withered and rotted into something unrecognizable instead.

James thought he knew love.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn't know what being in love meant.

He chuckled mirthlessly to himself.

Granger was right.

He was a hypocrite.