Mischief Managed ♦ Fic: Scenes from a Hogsmeade Pub [1/2]
Title: Scenes from a Hogsmeade Pub
Author: beedaily
Pairing: Lily/James
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 13,691
Prompt: 63. "Still I wonder why it is/ I don't argue like this / With anyone but you." - Corinne Bailey Rae "Like a Star"
Warnings: Language.
Summary: The Three Broomsticks is the setting for five significant scenes in Lily and James's relationship.
Author's Notes: Thanks go to both Corinne Bailey Rae and Billy Joel for some nice inspiration. Also, major kudos and endless thanks to L for her wonderful, swift, crucially helpful beta-ing!
"Still I wonder why it is
I don't argue like this
With anyone but you."
I.
"Mind sharing the booth there, Evans?"
Lily lifts her head from the book she's been reading, quelling the urge to scowl as Potter slides into the bench across from her with an idiotic smile and not even a smidgeon of permission. It's been a rotten day-hell, a rotten week-and Lily hasn't the patience to deal with the fifteen-year-old twit. She drops her head back down and tries to find her place on the page. Hopefully he'll lose interest in whatever trouble he's looking to cause quickly. She can't handle much.
"No. Leave," she tells him curtly, her eyes trained on her book.
He lets off a sound of disapproval. "Oh, come on, Evans! Have a little sympathy for a fellow Gryffindor. It's bloody packed in here. And Pete's already gone to fetch drinks!"
"I'm waiting for someone. And you're sitting in his seat."
"Who? Cockpot Crebbins?" Lily refuses to look up, but she can practically hear the grimace of disgust in his voice. "If you ask me, any blighter who keeps you waiting about for him in Hogsmeade isn't worth much. Bit of a rubbish boyfriend, don't you think?"
Lily feels her face heat up as she reluctantly raises her gaze. Potter's still sitting there across from her, all decked out in a black cloak and his Gryffindor scarf, fidgeting about with the silverware resting on the table in front of him. He jostles a fork between his fingers, creating an irritating clacking sound as it repeatedly taps against the wooden surface. She scowls. "Well, it's a good thing no one's asked your opinion then, isn't it?" She drops her eyes back down to the book in a huff, and isn't quite sure why she adds, "But just for your information, Joshua and I ended it. He's someone else's rubbish boyfriend now."
The fork clacking stops. "What?" Potter asks.
"I'm not waiting for Joshua," Lily reiterates. "We've broken things off. Now can you please just move?"
"You're not with Crebbins anymore?"
"That's what I've just said, isn't it?"
She wonders what enjoyment he gets out of making her repeat it, if he's unnecessarily cruel enough to comment on it, to wonder aloud how Joshua had managed to put up with her for as long as he had. He's said far worse to other people, but Lily hopes he utilizes whatever modicum of decency he's got and realises that she's not in the state to be taking jibes. After a few days of petty rowing, Joshua had sprung the break-up on her the evening before. She'd spent the better part of last night in tears, and had almost not made it into Hogsmeade this morning. Only her wounded pride had forced her out of bed, into some decent clothes, and down to the carriages. It was not how she'd envisioned her first Hogsmeade trip of fifth-year going.
When Potter remains still and silent across from her, she chances another look up at him, wishing he'd just go away. But far from the mocking smirk and dangerous glint she's expecting to find directed her way, the boy simply looks a bit stunned. He shakes that off quickly, however.
"You're not meeting another date already, are you?" he asks.
Lily doesn't want to tell him that she's meeting Sev-if she'd somehow managed to dodge his insults about Joshua, she certainly doesn't fancy testing his restraint by bringing up Severus. It's none of his business, anyway. "I'm meeting a friend," she answers quickly instead, evasive. "And you're still sitting in his seat. Bugger off, Potter. You and Peter have to find somewhere else to loaf about."
"Yeah, yeah, in a minute." Potter shifts restlessly on the bench across from her. "Listen. I've been thinking lately-"
"Well. Something new and different for you."
Potter pulls a face. "Yeah, thanks. I'll try not to make a habit of it. But anyway, now that you've rightly binned Cockpot Crebbins-"
"For Merlin's sake, Potter, his name is not-"
"-I was thinking you should probably go out with me."
The words die in Lily's mouth. She freezes.
Did he just…
"What did you say?"
The grin that is spreading across his face is positively gigantic. His teeth are very white. She almost wants to squint. "You. Me. Something a bit like this, actually." He gives a wave around the general atmosphere. Then he cocks a smarmy eyebrow at her. "Perhaps with a nice detour up towards my room afterwards, of course-"
That snaps Lily out of her stupor.
"What? No! How-no!"
Potter stares at her, mildly bemused. "No?" He shrugs. "Well, all right. Didn't take you for much of a prude, Evans, but if don't want a visit to my room, we don't have-"
"Not 'no' to your room, you conceited toerag! 'No' to all of it! No, no, no!"
The mild bemusement freezes on Potter's face, remaining that way for a few terse seconds. Lily tries to catch hold of her own runaway emotions as, slowly, the paralyzed emotion on his face gives way to obvious shock. He stares at her, blinking. It seems almost as if he doesn't understand the words she's saying.
"What?" he asks.
Lily feels her face grow hot. "What game is this, Potter? What are you playing at? It's not even funny!"
"It's not meant to be funny!" He sits up straighter, his hands going flat against the tabletop. "I'm serious! I think we should go out!"
"No!"
"Well, why the hell not?"
Lily almost can't believe what she's hearing. She keeps waiting for his taunting laugh, for his mates to pop out from behind her in raucous laughter, the prank finally concluded. But no one comes along and Potter still sits there across from her looking genuinely baffled and generally put out by her refusal. It's almost enough to laugh herself.
"Potter. You don't even like me," she says slowly. "And I don’t like you! What in the world would possess you to think that this was even a remotely rational idea?"
"I like you plenty!" Potter claims, affronted. When Lily just stares, he goes on, shoving a hand through his hair. "I mean, yeah, you can be a right shrew sometimes…but you're a clever shrew! And I'm not blind, Evans. Summer's been kind to you. Did you think I hadn't noticed?"
Lily huffs as she crosses her arms over her chest, thinking she knows exactly what he thinks summer had been so 'kind' to and wanting to shield herself from the subsequent leering that will undoubtedly follow. She squirms about in discomfort.
"Potter. I don't like you."
The boy merely scoffs, flicking her protests away with a careless wave of his hand. The arrogant grin spreads his lips. "Come off it, Evans. Are you trying to tell me you don't find me wildly attractive?"
Lily wonders if the abject horror is evident on her face.
"Have you been sampling illegal potions?" she asks. "Is that what this is?"
Potter leans back, pleased. "See? You can't deny it."
Oh, she can deny it, all right, she thinks, narrowing her eyes on him. And she can deny it especially as he lounges back in the seat like that, so obviously full of himself. It doesn't matter that at certain times when her rationality hasn't quite woken up yet, Lily can stare at him and perhaps see what puts the other girls in her year in such a tizzy. When he's not sauntering or smirking or, heaven forbid, speaking, Lily might sometimes call him attractive.
But James Potter is an awful human being-an arrogant, highhanded, careless troublemaker who gets his kicks from cruelly bullying other people and then charming his way out of the consequences. For five years she's watched him at his worst, and though she isn't closed-minded enough to think he's as awful to everybody as he is to Severus, his treatment of her oldest friend nonetheless reveals a capability for that kind of cruelty that has always put her off.
She's always thought that Potter could do with a bit of a Snow White fate-forced into a magical coma until enough time had passed wherein he might have become tolerable. And in the meantime, one could merely observe his finer qualities.
Though now it seems as if Potter had gotten some mad idea about Lily being the one to kiss him awake. And Merlin help them all, she wasn't entirely certain he was joking about it anymore.
"You're not joking, are you?" she asks, somewhat in wonder. "You're actually serious about this. You want to date."
Potter's eyes flicker up towards the ceiling. "Finally, she gets it. Look, let me just ditch Pete and then we'll-"
"I'm not going out with you."
He starts to look more annoyed. "We can’t play this game all day, Evans."
"I'm not playing any game! For Merlin's sake, Potter, we can't even have a civil conversation without arguing! What kind of relationship is that?"
Potter leans forward, a new sort of glint entering his eye. His voice is suddenly conspiring. "Don't you ever wonder why it is you don't argue like this with anyone but me?"
"Innate hatred?" Lily offers.
"We have spark, Evans," Potter replies, his lips lifting into a satisfied smirk. "We've innate chemistry. And I reckon it's about time we channel that into something a bit more productive than verbal sparring, don't you think?"
From the way his eyes gleam and his smirk sharpens, there is little doubt in Lily's mind just what this 'something productive' he's got in mind is. And though most of her has to check her upchuck reflex in order to keep from vomiting all over the tabletop, the smallest part of her wonders...
Well, 'spark' is certainly one way to describe the volatile inferno that constantly seems to exist between the pair of them. Lily can't deny the existence of such a thing, but Potter seems to regard the connection as something far more temperate, more versatile, than she does. There might be a fine line between love and hate, but Lily's rather certain that her sentiments lay firmly on the latter side of that dichotomy. She thought that Potter felt the same, but thinking about it now, she wonders why she's surprised. As far as she knows, James Potter has never met a line that he didn't want to cross.
Still, Lily finds herself regarding the boy across from her, searching his face for any possible sign of sincerity or genuine regard for her or his proposed plan. But if Potter actually cares about her or her answer, he doesn't show it. Lily grows more and more convinced that this is merely some game to him as he stares petulantly at her, waiting impatiently but not earnestly for her to agree to his suit. She feels a twinge of something-dear Merlin, that can't possibly be disappointment, can it? Lily isn't certain, but if it is, she chalks it up as a general disappointment in humanity that someone could be so shallow.
Sparks cause fires, after all, and Lily Evans has no intention of getting burned.
"I've asked you to leave twice already," she says, feeling slightly strange as she glances down at her book once more. "Please don't make me ask again."
Despite her better judgment, she finds her eyes flickering upwards briefly, her head still ducked low. Part of her regrets it when she sees a glimmer of what seems to be genuine disappointment flash over Potter's face, but as quickly as it's there, it's gone again, replaced by Potter's usual cavalier dramatics, making Lily wonder if it'd even been there at all.
"Fine, Evans. Back to the shrew, are we?" He sighs, loud and exasperated. "Have your fit of pride, then. I'll wear you down for the next trip."
There's no way in hell he'll keep this farce up long enough to finish his butterbeer, Lily thinks with a snort, much less by the time the next Hogsmeade trip rolls around. He'll give it up by tomorrow, Monday at the latest, and even only then if her refusal had particularly piqued his pride. Before she can say as much to him, a sudden shadow falls over the table. Lily glances up to see Sev standing at her side. He's sneering at Potter.
"Are you lost?" he asks.
Potter's hand instantly covers his nose. "Dear Merlin, Evans. Something foul's suddenly tainted the air. Do you smell it? Grease? Desperation?"
"I've been attempting to get rid of something foul for nearly ten minutes now," Lily replies pointedly, glaring at him. "Haven't had any luck yet."
She's not certain whether Potter's finally understands that she doesn't mean to change her mind about his little joke, or if he simply realises that it's now two-versus-one and the odds are no longer in his favour, but either way, he starts to move out of the booth. He and Sev shove shoulders as one moves off the vacated bench and the other moves in. Lily rolls her eyes.
"Goodbye, Potter," she says.
"Yes, goodbye, Potter," Sev repeats, though in a much darker tone.
Lily expects him to leave straight away, to skulk off back to his mates in order to instantly begin planning whatever retribution he thinks fits this particular run-in. But he doesn't immediately saunter off, instead coming to her side of the booth and ducking his head close to hers. Before she can question what he's doing, a series of sparks flare up from his wand.
"Fucking hell, Potter, are you trying to set the place aflame?" Sev cries.
Lily feels the blush begin to creep into her cheeks-anger? Embarrassment? Something else?-when Potter only ignores Sev and whispers, "Sparks, Evans. Just think about it."
Lily is still trying to figure out why exactly her stomach is twisting so frantically when he finally walks away. Face still heated, Lily's gaze flashes over to Sev. He's frowning.
"What was that about?" he asks.
"Nothing," Lily replies instantly, shaking her head and hopefully shaking off whatever temporary insanity had just been blanketing the booth. Merlin, she hates Potter. "Nothing at all. Potter and his games. Let's just order, yeah?"
***
II.
She is more than aware that her eyes are still red-rimmed and her cheeks still flushed as she leaves the table where her mates are sitting-undoubtedly whispering about her now-and heads towards the crowded bar to get drinks. The noise around her echoes in her ears, proof that people are heavily immersed in their own affairs, but Lily can't shake off the feeling that she's being stared at. Moving determinedly forward, she practices the excuses in her head, just in case anyone asks. Nippy wind out there, isn't it? Autumn gales and all. Had my eyes watering the whole way here!
Will they sound as pathetic aloud as they do in her head?
The right side of the bar appears slightly less packed than its left side counterpart, so Lily veers in that direction with her head held high. A certain amount of shouldering is still necessary to reach the countertop, but she has enough fight left in her to get the job done. She squeezes herself in between a pack of giggling third-years and a couple of hothead Ravenclaws arguing over the latest Quidditch match. When no one immediately comes to take her order, Lily leans over the bar and scans for Madam Rosmerta. The pretty barmaid is all the way down the other end, chatting contently with a group of 7th-year Slytherins.
Lily scowls. At this rate, she'll be here until next Hogsmeade trip.
She feels someone come up behind her a second before she hears him.
"Evans?"
Still lying partially across the bar top, Lily closes her eyes at the familiar voice, gritting her teeth as she slips back down to the floor. She doesn't turn to face him, in part because that will only encourage him, and in part because she can grudgingly admit that if there was any single person who could eye up her face and suss out exactly what's happening on and beneath it, it's probably James Potter. She resents the fact that he can read her so well almost as much as she resents that there's something for him to read.
"I believe I've already rejected your Hogsmeade invite for today," she tells him briskly. "Twice."
"Yeah, thanks. I remember."
She expects him to sound bitter about this-Merlin knows he's never passed up an opportunity to gripe about her constant rejections of his suit before-but there's nothing of it in his brief reply, not even the slightest of petulant hints. Instead, he says it all very quickly, and follows it up almost immediately with, "All right?"
She turns around. Potter is standing there behind her, hands shoved in his trouser pockets, visibly fidgeting. Her eyebrows rise of their own accord. Potter might suffer from cases of constant restless energy, but nervous fidgeting is not his style. Adding that to the fact that he is regarding her with a wary kind of wavering smile rather than his usual trademark smirk, and Lily is instantly suspicious.
"What?" she asks.
Potter's eyes flicker back and forth across her face, but there is no surprise at its reddened state. "All right?" he asks again.
Lily's not certain what he's asking. Is he simply trying to chat her up? But what's with the strangeness, then? Now she's fidgeting, and she hates him for it. To distract herself, she turns back around and leans over the bar once more. Rosmerta is still chatting with the Slytherins.
"I'd be much better if I could get my drinks sometime this year," Lily mutters, trying in vain to flag the barmaid down again. Rosmerta doesn't see her.
Potter suddenly slides up next to her, slipping between Lily and one of the giggly third-years. The younger girl merely ogles him and shifts aside. Before Lily can ask what he's doing, he sticks two fingers in his mouth and gives a shrill whistle. At the other end of the bar, Rosmerta glances up. Potter signals her with a quick wave. She signals back, holding up a single finger to indicate she'll be down in a moment.
"She'll be along," Potter says.
"Right," is Lily's only reply.
They wait in silence for Rosmerta to make her way down the bar, which she thankfully does quickly. Around them, people jabber out orders, but Rosmerta ignores the general masses and goes straight for Potter. They grin foolishly at one another.
"You can't have possibly finished that pint already," the barmaid chides, giving the younger boy a dubious look. She turns to her left and miffs with satisfaction as she waves a hand down the bar. "Just as I suspected-abandoned at the end of the bar still half full!"
Lily glances over to where Rosmerta has just pointed. Sure enough, there's a half-filled tankard abandoned at the very end of the bar, not so far from where they're all standing now. Loitering around that same corner are Potter's mates and a few 7th-year girls that Sirius Black seems to be simultaneously chatting up. Lily realises that Potter must have left his spot down there in order to come to her. She's not really surprised by this, but feels a bit discomforted all the same. Her gaze drifts up to him, but he's just grinning at Rosmerta, giving nothing away.
"Any excuse to tear you away from the bastards trying to steal your affections," Potter flirts shamelessly, giving Rosmerta a wink. His hand suddenly drops onto Lily's shoulder. She can feel his fingers curve over her collarbone. "I had to con Evans into letting me call you over for a drink order. Think it a good enough cover?"
"It'll do," Rosmerta grins, and deigns to stop giving leery looks at Potter long enough to glance at Lily and ask, "What'll it be, love?"
Lily holds back a grimace. She shrugs off Potter's hand. "Butterbeers. Four, please."
"Coming right up." Rosmerta flashes one last teasing grin at Potter. "Behave," she tells him, and then saunters back down the bar to fetch Lily's drinks.
Once she's left, Potter lets out a dramatic sigh, "And another one gets away." His eyes drop down to Lily. At least the smirk is back firmly in place. He sticks it on her at full force. "Reckon I'll catch one of you eventually."
"Good luck with that," Lily replies, sincerely hoping Rosmerta's prepared to ditch the fit bloke Lily saw her snogging outside the pub last term in order to give Potter a go. "You can go back to your abandoned butterbeer now," Lily tells the pining fool to make a point of this, motioning towards the end of the bar. "Thanks for the whistle."
The smirk drops again. Potter looks alarmed. "But that's not...I wanted to make sure you're all right."
Lily refuses to accept that he might have been watching her as she entered the pub earlier and immediately noticed her poor state, though she knows it's likely. She stares him straight in the eyes, lifts her chin defiantly, and dares him to mention it. "Why wouldn't I be?" she asks.
Potter scratches absently at the back of his neck, skittish again. "I was standing over there," he says in answer, pointing towards his butterbeer. "By the window. With the lads. Just before."
"Yes, I've discerned that."
Potter stares at her expectantly. "Over there," he repeats, jerking his head to the right. "By the window. I was standing there, drinking my butterbeer, by the window, Evans."
Exasperated, Lily turns to her right. "Potter, what the hell are you-"
She freezes.
Behind the clear glass of the small window situated just a short ways to her right, Lily makes out the hazy image of the cramped alleyway beside the Three Broomsticks.
The same alleyway she just spent the better part of ten minutes crying in after her brutal argument with Sev.
The color drains from her face.
Dear Merlin. Potter had been standing at the window. At that window. He'd seen it all. All of it.
She whirls on him, suddenly furious.
"So that's it, is it? You just stood there and watched the whole nasty scene? And now you've come to rub it in my face?" She glares daggers at him, her face heating violently, her voice sharp and scathing. She's horrified, humiliated. There's a familiar burning sensation at the back of her eyes that she ignores. "That's great, Potter. Really bloody great. Hope you enjoyed. I bet you had a nice laugh about it all-"
Potter's eyes widen. "What? No! No, I didn't-"
"I'm sure it was all just so amusing for you. Look at stupid Lily, arguing with that bastard Slytherin and then crying about it. I hope it was all properly entertaining!"
"Evans, stop-"
"You're an arsehole, do you know that? A real arsehole, James Potter!"
"I didn't watch!" Potter's voice rings out, loud and desperate even amidst the noisy din of the crowded pub. His outburst doesn't go unnoticed. The hothead Ravenclaws pause in their debate. The giggling third-years stop to stare, as well. Potter swipes an irritated hand through his hair, leans closer to her, and continues in a quieter voice, "I didn't watch, Evans. I swear it. I didn't!"
Lily's too mortified to accept the sincerity in his tone. "Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you say? And if you didn't watch, how did you...why would you know..."
"I spotted you and Snape when you first walked into the alleyway," Potter confesses, his voice hushed and somewhat strained. Lily opens her mouth to yell, but Potter interrupts, quickly adding, "But I didn't watch! You looked...it looked like a scene you wouldn't want people spying on. So I stood in front of the window-with my back to the window, Evans. Quit glowering at me like that!-so the others wouldn't spot you. I only glanced back occasionally to see if you were still there. I swear. That's it. I only saw you arguing and that you were...upset afterwards."
Lily brushes furiously at the corners of her eyes, feeling the evidence of more tears on her fingertips, but refusing to succumb to that impulse now, again, here in front of Potter. Part of her is desperate to believe him, desperate to think that her humiliation hadn't been reduced to the spectator sport she'd first envisioned when he mentioned standing by the window. It doesn't erase the fact that the boy in front of her was still a witness to her breakdown, but at least it contains it. Her natural skepticism and bruised ego keep her from clinging completely to that hope, however. If the last half-hour had taught her anything, it was that only fools cling to fruitless hopes.
Even as she thinks it, she hates the cynicism that seems to have settled over her like a heavy cloak. She'd thought she was past the point where Sev could affect her so much, but today's debacle had proven otherwise. She'd spent the whole summer coming to terms with the fact that he was no longer her best friend-no longer a friend at all-and even though it had been painful, Lily's always been the sort to rally when it counts. She'd turned him away every time he'd come knocking at her door that first week back home, hadn't she? And back here at school, when he'd approached her at Slughorn's first party, she'd walked away then, too. But today had been a surprise attack, and Lily's not quite sure why she went with him when he asked. Her mates had certainly sent her enough warning looks, but Lily hadn't heeded them. She'd gone with Sev into the alleyway and listened as he'd attempted to make his case again.
It had all turned ugly so quickly. One moment, they'd been trudging through the same old territory-yes, they'd been friends since they were children, but they weren't children anymore, and Lily was no longer willing to look upon Severus's actions with childish naivety-and the next, tempers had reared. Sev had hurled at her the same loaded slur he'd sworn he'd never intended to call her in the first place, and then left in a flurry of bitterness.
And in the wake of it all, Lily had just sat down in the dirty Hogsmeade alley and sobbed. She'd sobbed in a way that she'd never let herself sob before, because maybe she'd never let herself believe that this was truly the end of her and Sev. She'd sobbed until her lungs hurt with it, and then until a pathetic sort of hacking was the only thing she could manage. It took fifteen minutes to pull herself together, and even then she'd risen to her feet, brushed the dust from her clothes, and left the alleyway in a kind of daze. When she'd met her friends inside the Three Broomsticks, she'd known that they could tell she was upset, but she'd comforted herself with the fact that none of them could possibly know just how tragically she'd fallen to pieces.
Except now someone did know. Someone called James Potter.
Lily's eyes dart up to Potter warily. She's somewhat surprised to find him regarding her with an equal amount of trepidation. She isn't certain what she would have done next if a fortuitous interruption hadn't come in the form of Madam Rosmerta, returning with Lily's drinks.
"There we are. Four butterbeers. That'll be eight Sickles, love."
"Right." Lily goes digging in her cloak pocket for the money her mates each doled out to her earlier, but before she can even grip the loose batch of coins jingling around her pocket, Potter's already flipped the barmaid a Galleon. Rosmerta catches the golden coin with a wink, then leans over the bar to give Potter's cheek a pinch.
"This is why you're my favourite customer," she says, still grinning as she turns and saunters back down the bar to take more orders. Lily blinks after her, then glances up at Potter.
"I had the money right here," she says, frowning. "And you just paid her more than double."
Potter shrugs and grins. "Why do you think she comes when I whistle?"
Honestly? Her thoughts hadn't been anywhere near generous tipping for that one. Lily shakes her head, then shoves her hand back into her pocket and lifts out the jumble of coins. She promptly thrusts them his way. "Here," she says. "You're not buying me drinks."
Potter pushes the load of coins back at her. "You're right. I'm not buying you drinks. I'm buying"-he lifts himself up, eyes squinting behind his glasses as he examines something over her head-"Mary, Emmeline, Marley, and you drinks," he finishes.
Lily scowls. "Potter, stop-"
"Keep your money-"
"No, you take it-"
"You never let me do anything-"
"You've done enough, Potter, all right? Trust me, enough!"
Potter flinches, starting as if Lily had slapped him. The reaction is bizarre, but one that Lily isn't willing to ponder at the expense of an escape. She quickly drops the bunch of Sickles down on the bar next to Potter's hand. The metal against wood makes a loud clattering sound. Potter blinks down at the coins as Lily pulls out her wand and sends the four tankards of butterbeer to the table where her mates still sit.
"Go back to your window," Lily tells him, turning away. "Perhaps some other poor fool will be having a breakdown out there and you can not watch her."
"Lily, wait!"
She's not certain what makes her stop-the hand Potter catches her wrist with, or the fact that he's called her 'Lily', a somewhat jolting departure from their usual impersonal appellations. Either way, she's stopped and faced him once more, and now she can't possibly ignore the stricken look pulling at his usually breezy features.
"What?" she asks curtly.
The hand that isn't still gripping her wrist goes straight to his hair again. He sputters, "You never let me...er, that's...I've never..."
"Potter-"
"Apologise!" The word bursts out of him like a fit of wind, and he seems to deflate with it, the tension in his chest easing slowly. His face is red. "You've never...you've never let me apologise."
Lily's hand goes to her hip. "I thought you said you hadn't looked?"
"I'm not talking about the window!"
"Then what are you talking about?"
"Last term. After O.W.L.s. All of it. You never...you never let me apologise."
Watching him, her eyes flickering critically over his face, Lily suddenly realises what has James Potter's normally line-free complexion crinkling and cringing in an unfamiliar way.
Guilt.
He feels guilty.
She's a bit stunned.
"Potter..."
"No. Wait. Just let me say it, all right?" His words come out fast, clipped. The sensations of remorse are undoubtedly new to him. He takes a breath, his eyes strangely bright as he stares at her. "I was acting like an idiot, that day by the lake," he begins, sounding not at all like the James Potter she's used to. "We'd been holed up in the Great Hall for ages, I had things on my mind, and Snivellus was an easy target. I didn't...if I'd known you were going to come along, that the wanker would go and call you that-" He spits out the word, as if even the vague placeholder is distasteful to him. Shaking his head, he goes on without finishing the thought. "I should've realised things were getting out of hand. He might not have done it if the lot of us hadn't been ragging on him. And even though I'm not sorry that you've ditched him because the scum's always treated you like rubbish and I've never understood why you put up with it...well, no one deserves to lose a mate that way. So, I'm sorry. For that. All of it, really."
He finishes somewhat abruptly, his quick, final comments ending with a nervous silence that Lily supposes she's expected to fill. But for the few moments following his elaborate apology, Lily's not certain if speech is all that feasible.
Has she ever heard him apologise before? She grapples for an instance, but can't find one that isn't tainted entirely in jest. If there has been such an earnest moment, she honestly can't recall it. Frankly, she's not certain she's even thought him capable of it-and certainly not when the occasion involved Severus. Yet here he is, standing before her apologising for his part in the whole mess. Lily considers pinching herself.
It's Potter's sigh, not a pinch, which snaps Lily out of her surprise. His shoulders sag and he finally drops her wrist from his tight grip.
"Fine. Right. I s'ppse I deserve the quiet. I'm a bit shotty with the timing. I did try to talk to you last term, though. You just wouldn't let me, so-"
"I thought you were just looking to rub it in my face," Lily interrupts, feeling a bit guilty now, too. She shifts restlessly from foot to foot. "That's why I kept avoiding you. I thought you were just looking to say 'told you so'. I didn't want to hear it, so I just-"
"I wouldn't have," Potter says, shaking his head. "I mean, I did-tell you so, that is. But I wouldn't have said it. Bloody hell, Evans. I'm not that bad."
The comment is so typically Potter-a much needed return to her comfort zone-that Lily finds herself laughing rather than scowling, the pressure easing from her chest as the unexpected reaction escapes past her lips. Sensing a victory in this, Potter grins broadly. He leans towards her. After a moment, his eyebrows wiggle suggestively.
"You know, Evans...you might also want to reconsider-"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter. Now?"
His grin spreads, unabashed. "Sorry. Sensed a moment there. Had to try."
She snorts, a strange mixture of amusement and exasperation at his utterly one-tracked mind. She's reluctant to burst that bubble of positive feeling, but her own niggling conscious protests her continued silence in the face of Potter's recent decency. He might not be looking so stricken anymore, but he'd obviously been grappling with his part in the dissipation of her and Sev's friendship for some time-a part that, she has to admit, is probably far smaller than he realises.
"Thank you," she hears herself say, the sentiment entirely foreign when directed at him. Potter seems equally as perplexed by the unchartered territory.
"Er...you're welcome?" he guesses.
"For apologising," Lily explains, her lips quirking upwards. "And for not trying to blackmail me into dating you with what you saw in the alleyway. And for not saying 'told you so,' even if you might have done."
"Oh." He straightens, more confident now. "Right, then. You're welcome."
"But you don't have to feel guilty about what happened between Sev and me," she continues, shaking her head. "Feel guilty about acting like a prick-that, you did-but Severus would have said what he did with or without your help. I'd been living in denial about it for awhile. And honestly, any less brutal of a scene and I might've continued. Perhaps it wasn't pretty, but it's the way it had to be."
A kind of debate plays over Potter's face. Lily watches as one side wins out over the other and he grudgingly asks, "Do you reckon you'll ever..."
"Sort things out?" At James's nod, she shakes her head. "No."
He tries to hide his relief, but does a rather poor job of it. "Oh." His shoulders visibly relax. "Sorry."
Lily shrugs. "I'm a firm believer in cosmic balance. It'll even itself out eventually. New mates or something of the sort."
Potter perks up instantly. "I'm a brilliant mate!"
"I generally prefer my mates not to be constantly hitting on me."
"Really, Evans. Where's the excitement in that?"
She doesn't quite manage to bite back her smile. "I'm actually in the market for a couple of really dull friendships right now," she says, not entirely joking. "If you happen across any particularly dim or dithery simpletons looking for a mate, send them my way."
"I'm dithery," Potter says. "And you call me dim all the time!"
Lily turns, stepping away from the bar and towards her table. "No."
"But you do-"
He follows her all the way back to her table, arguing for his dimness the entire time.
Continue to Part 2
Author: beedaily
Pairing: Lily/James
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 13,691
Prompt: 63. "Still I wonder why it is/ I don't argue like this / With anyone but you." - Corinne Bailey Rae "Like a Star"
Warnings: Language.
Summary: The Three Broomsticks is the setting for five significant scenes in Lily and James's relationship.
Author's Notes: Thanks go to both Corinne Bailey Rae and Billy Joel for some nice inspiration. Also, major kudos and endless thanks to L for her wonderful, swift, crucially helpful beta-ing!
"Still I wonder why it is
I don't argue like this
With anyone but you."
I.
"Mind sharing the booth there, Evans?"
Lily lifts her head from the book she's been reading, quelling the urge to scowl as Potter slides into the bench across from her with an idiotic smile and not even a smidgeon of permission. It's been a rotten day-hell, a rotten week-and Lily hasn't the patience to deal with the fifteen-year-old twit. She drops her head back down and tries to find her place on the page. Hopefully he'll lose interest in whatever trouble he's looking to cause quickly. She can't handle much.
"No. Leave," she tells him curtly, her eyes trained on her book.
He lets off a sound of disapproval. "Oh, come on, Evans! Have a little sympathy for a fellow Gryffindor. It's bloody packed in here. And Pete's already gone to fetch drinks!"
"I'm waiting for someone. And you're sitting in his seat."
"Who? Cockpot Crebbins?" Lily refuses to look up, but she can practically hear the grimace of disgust in his voice. "If you ask me, any blighter who keeps you waiting about for him in Hogsmeade isn't worth much. Bit of a rubbish boyfriend, don't you think?"
Lily feels her face heat up as she reluctantly raises her gaze. Potter's still sitting there across from her, all decked out in a black cloak and his Gryffindor scarf, fidgeting about with the silverware resting on the table in front of him. He jostles a fork between his fingers, creating an irritating clacking sound as it repeatedly taps against the wooden surface. She scowls. "Well, it's a good thing no one's asked your opinion then, isn't it?" She drops her eyes back down to the book in a huff, and isn't quite sure why she adds, "But just for your information, Joshua and I ended it. He's someone else's rubbish boyfriend now."
The fork clacking stops. "What?" Potter asks.
"I'm not waiting for Joshua," Lily reiterates. "We've broken things off. Now can you please just move?"
"You're not with Crebbins anymore?"
"That's what I've just said, isn't it?"
She wonders what enjoyment he gets out of making her repeat it, if he's unnecessarily cruel enough to comment on it, to wonder aloud how Joshua had managed to put up with her for as long as he had. He's said far worse to other people, but Lily hopes he utilizes whatever modicum of decency he's got and realises that she's not in the state to be taking jibes. After a few days of petty rowing, Joshua had sprung the break-up on her the evening before. She'd spent the better part of last night in tears, and had almost not made it into Hogsmeade this morning. Only her wounded pride had forced her out of bed, into some decent clothes, and down to the carriages. It was not how she'd envisioned her first Hogsmeade trip of fifth-year going.
When Potter remains still and silent across from her, she chances another look up at him, wishing he'd just go away. But far from the mocking smirk and dangerous glint she's expecting to find directed her way, the boy simply looks a bit stunned. He shakes that off quickly, however.
"You're not meeting another date already, are you?" he asks.
Lily doesn't want to tell him that she's meeting Sev-if she'd somehow managed to dodge his insults about Joshua, she certainly doesn't fancy testing his restraint by bringing up Severus. It's none of his business, anyway. "I'm meeting a friend," she answers quickly instead, evasive. "And you're still sitting in his seat. Bugger off, Potter. You and Peter have to find somewhere else to loaf about."
"Yeah, yeah, in a minute." Potter shifts restlessly on the bench across from her. "Listen. I've been thinking lately-"
"Well. Something new and different for you."
Potter pulls a face. "Yeah, thanks. I'll try not to make a habit of it. But anyway, now that you've rightly binned Cockpot Crebbins-"
"For Merlin's sake, Potter, his name is not-"
"-I was thinking you should probably go out with me."
The words die in Lily's mouth. She freezes.
Did he just…
"What did you say?"
The grin that is spreading across his face is positively gigantic. His teeth are very white. She almost wants to squint. "You. Me. Something a bit like this, actually." He gives a wave around the general atmosphere. Then he cocks a smarmy eyebrow at her. "Perhaps with a nice detour up towards my room afterwards, of course-"
That snaps Lily out of her stupor.
"What? No! How-no!"
Potter stares at her, mildly bemused. "No?" He shrugs. "Well, all right. Didn't take you for much of a prude, Evans, but if don't want a visit to my room, we don't have-"
"Not 'no' to your room, you conceited toerag! 'No' to all of it! No, no, no!"
The mild bemusement freezes on Potter's face, remaining that way for a few terse seconds. Lily tries to catch hold of her own runaway emotions as, slowly, the paralyzed emotion on his face gives way to obvious shock. He stares at her, blinking. It seems almost as if he doesn't understand the words she's saying.
"What?" he asks.
Lily feels her face grow hot. "What game is this, Potter? What are you playing at? It's not even funny!"
"It's not meant to be funny!" He sits up straighter, his hands going flat against the tabletop. "I'm serious! I think we should go out!"
"No!"
"Well, why the hell not?"
Lily almost can't believe what she's hearing. She keeps waiting for his taunting laugh, for his mates to pop out from behind her in raucous laughter, the prank finally concluded. But no one comes along and Potter still sits there across from her looking genuinely baffled and generally put out by her refusal. It's almost enough to laugh herself.
"Potter. You don't even like me," she says slowly. "And I don’t like you! What in the world would possess you to think that this was even a remotely rational idea?"
"I like you plenty!" Potter claims, affronted. When Lily just stares, he goes on, shoving a hand through his hair. "I mean, yeah, you can be a right shrew sometimes…but you're a clever shrew! And I'm not blind, Evans. Summer's been kind to you. Did you think I hadn't noticed?"
Lily huffs as she crosses her arms over her chest, thinking she knows exactly what he thinks summer had been so 'kind' to and wanting to shield herself from the subsequent leering that will undoubtedly follow. She squirms about in discomfort.
"Potter. I don't like you."
The boy merely scoffs, flicking her protests away with a careless wave of his hand. The arrogant grin spreads his lips. "Come off it, Evans. Are you trying to tell me you don't find me wildly attractive?"
Lily wonders if the abject horror is evident on her face.
"Have you been sampling illegal potions?" she asks. "Is that what this is?"
Potter leans back, pleased. "See? You can't deny it."
Oh, she can deny it, all right, she thinks, narrowing her eyes on him. And she can deny it especially as he lounges back in the seat like that, so obviously full of himself. It doesn't matter that at certain times when her rationality hasn't quite woken up yet, Lily can stare at him and perhaps see what puts the other girls in her year in such a tizzy. When he's not sauntering or smirking or, heaven forbid, speaking, Lily might sometimes call him attractive.
But James Potter is an awful human being-an arrogant, highhanded, careless troublemaker who gets his kicks from cruelly bullying other people and then charming his way out of the consequences. For five years she's watched him at his worst, and though she isn't closed-minded enough to think he's as awful to everybody as he is to Severus, his treatment of her oldest friend nonetheless reveals a capability for that kind of cruelty that has always put her off.
She's always thought that Potter could do with a bit of a Snow White fate-forced into a magical coma until enough time had passed wherein he might have become tolerable. And in the meantime, one could merely observe his finer qualities.
Though now it seems as if Potter had gotten some mad idea about Lily being the one to kiss him awake. And Merlin help them all, she wasn't entirely certain he was joking about it anymore.
"You're not joking, are you?" she asks, somewhat in wonder. "You're actually serious about this. You want to date."
Potter's eyes flicker up towards the ceiling. "Finally, she gets it. Look, let me just ditch Pete and then we'll-"
"I'm not going out with you."
He starts to look more annoyed. "We can’t play this game all day, Evans."
"I'm not playing any game! For Merlin's sake, Potter, we can't even have a civil conversation without arguing! What kind of relationship is that?"
Potter leans forward, a new sort of glint entering his eye. His voice is suddenly conspiring. "Don't you ever wonder why it is you don't argue like this with anyone but me?"
"Innate hatred?" Lily offers.
"We have spark, Evans," Potter replies, his lips lifting into a satisfied smirk. "We've innate chemistry. And I reckon it's about time we channel that into something a bit more productive than verbal sparring, don't you think?"
From the way his eyes gleam and his smirk sharpens, there is little doubt in Lily's mind just what this 'something productive' he's got in mind is. And though most of her has to check her upchuck reflex in order to keep from vomiting all over the tabletop, the smallest part of her wonders...
Well, 'spark' is certainly one way to describe the volatile inferno that constantly seems to exist between the pair of them. Lily can't deny the existence of such a thing, but Potter seems to regard the connection as something far more temperate, more versatile, than she does. There might be a fine line between love and hate, but Lily's rather certain that her sentiments lay firmly on the latter side of that dichotomy. She thought that Potter felt the same, but thinking about it now, she wonders why she's surprised. As far as she knows, James Potter has never met a line that he didn't want to cross.
Still, Lily finds herself regarding the boy across from her, searching his face for any possible sign of sincerity or genuine regard for her or his proposed plan. But if Potter actually cares about her or her answer, he doesn't show it. Lily grows more and more convinced that this is merely some game to him as he stares petulantly at her, waiting impatiently but not earnestly for her to agree to his suit. She feels a twinge of something-dear Merlin, that can't possibly be disappointment, can it? Lily isn't certain, but if it is, she chalks it up as a general disappointment in humanity that someone could be so shallow.
Sparks cause fires, after all, and Lily Evans has no intention of getting burned.
"I've asked you to leave twice already," she says, feeling slightly strange as she glances down at her book once more. "Please don't make me ask again."
Despite her better judgment, she finds her eyes flickering upwards briefly, her head still ducked low. Part of her regrets it when she sees a glimmer of what seems to be genuine disappointment flash over Potter's face, but as quickly as it's there, it's gone again, replaced by Potter's usual cavalier dramatics, making Lily wonder if it'd even been there at all.
"Fine, Evans. Back to the shrew, are we?" He sighs, loud and exasperated. "Have your fit of pride, then. I'll wear you down for the next trip."
There's no way in hell he'll keep this farce up long enough to finish his butterbeer, Lily thinks with a snort, much less by the time the next Hogsmeade trip rolls around. He'll give it up by tomorrow, Monday at the latest, and even only then if her refusal had particularly piqued his pride. Before she can say as much to him, a sudden shadow falls over the table. Lily glances up to see Sev standing at her side. He's sneering at Potter.
"Are you lost?" he asks.
Potter's hand instantly covers his nose. "Dear Merlin, Evans. Something foul's suddenly tainted the air. Do you smell it? Grease? Desperation?"
"I've been attempting to get rid of something foul for nearly ten minutes now," Lily replies pointedly, glaring at him. "Haven't had any luck yet."
She's not certain whether Potter's finally understands that she doesn't mean to change her mind about his little joke, or if he simply realises that it's now two-versus-one and the odds are no longer in his favour, but either way, he starts to move out of the booth. He and Sev shove shoulders as one moves off the vacated bench and the other moves in. Lily rolls her eyes.
"Goodbye, Potter," she says.
"Yes, goodbye, Potter," Sev repeats, though in a much darker tone.
Lily expects him to leave straight away, to skulk off back to his mates in order to instantly begin planning whatever retribution he thinks fits this particular run-in. But he doesn't immediately saunter off, instead coming to her side of the booth and ducking his head close to hers. Before she can question what he's doing, a series of sparks flare up from his wand.
"Fucking hell, Potter, are you trying to set the place aflame?" Sev cries.
Lily feels the blush begin to creep into her cheeks-anger? Embarrassment? Something else?-when Potter only ignores Sev and whispers, "Sparks, Evans. Just think about it."
Lily is still trying to figure out why exactly her stomach is twisting so frantically when he finally walks away. Face still heated, Lily's gaze flashes over to Sev. He's frowning.
"What was that about?" he asks.
"Nothing," Lily replies instantly, shaking her head and hopefully shaking off whatever temporary insanity had just been blanketing the booth. Merlin, she hates Potter. "Nothing at all. Potter and his games. Let's just order, yeah?"
***
II.
She is more than aware that her eyes are still red-rimmed and her cheeks still flushed as she leaves the table where her mates are sitting-undoubtedly whispering about her now-and heads towards the crowded bar to get drinks. The noise around her echoes in her ears, proof that people are heavily immersed in their own affairs, but Lily can't shake off the feeling that she's being stared at. Moving determinedly forward, she practices the excuses in her head, just in case anyone asks. Nippy wind out there, isn't it? Autumn gales and all. Had my eyes watering the whole way here!
Will they sound as pathetic aloud as they do in her head?
The right side of the bar appears slightly less packed than its left side counterpart, so Lily veers in that direction with her head held high. A certain amount of shouldering is still necessary to reach the countertop, but she has enough fight left in her to get the job done. She squeezes herself in between a pack of giggling third-years and a couple of hothead Ravenclaws arguing over the latest Quidditch match. When no one immediately comes to take her order, Lily leans over the bar and scans for Madam Rosmerta. The pretty barmaid is all the way down the other end, chatting contently with a group of 7th-year Slytherins.
Lily scowls. At this rate, she'll be here until next Hogsmeade trip.
She feels someone come up behind her a second before she hears him.
"Evans?"
Still lying partially across the bar top, Lily closes her eyes at the familiar voice, gritting her teeth as she slips back down to the floor. She doesn't turn to face him, in part because that will only encourage him, and in part because she can grudgingly admit that if there was any single person who could eye up her face and suss out exactly what's happening on and beneath it, it's probably James Potter. She resents the fact that he can read her so well almost as much as she resents that there's something for him to read.
"I believe I've already rejected your Hogsmeade invite for today," she tells him briskly. "Twice."
"Yeah, thanks. I remember."
She expects him to sound bitter about this-Merlin knows he's never passed up an opportunity to gripe about her constant rejections of his suit before-but there's nothing of it in his brief reply, not even the slightest of petulant hints. Instead, he says it all very quickly, and follows it up almost immediately with, "All right?"
She turns around. Potter is standing there behind her, hands shoved in his trouser pockets, visibly fidgeting. Her eyebrows rise of their own accord. Potter might suffer from cases of constant restless energy, but nervous fidgeting is not his style. Adding that to the fact that he is regarding her with a wary kind of wavering smile rather than his usual trademark smirk, and Lily is instantly suspicious.
"What?" she asks.
Potter's eyes flicker back and forth across her face, but there is no surprise at its reddened state. "All right?" he asks again.
Lily's not certain what he's asking. Is he simply trying to chat her up? But what's with the strangeness, then? Now she's fidgeting, and she hates him for it. To distract herself, she turns back around and leans over the bar once more. Rosmerta is still chatting with the Slytherins.
"I'd be much better if I could get my drinks sometime this year," Lily mutters, trying in vain to flag the barmaid down again. Rosmerta doesn't see her.
Potter suddenly slides up next to her, slipping between Lily and one of the giggly third-years. The younger girl merely ogles him and shifts aside. Before Lily can ask what he's doing, he sticks two fingers in his mouth and gives a shrill whistle. At the other end of the bar, Rosmerta glances up. Potter signals her with a quick wave. She signals back, holding up a single finger to indicate she'll be down in a moment.
"She'll be along," Potter says.
"Right," is Lily's only reply.
They wait in silence for Rosmerta to make her way down the bar, which she thankfully does quickly. Around them, people jabber out orders, but Rosmerta ignores the general masses and goes straight for Potter. They grin foolishly at one another.
"You can't have possibly finished that pint already," the barmaid chides, giving the younger boy a dubious look. She turns to her left and miffs with satisfaction as she waves a hand down the bar. "Just as I suspected-abandoned at the end of the bar still half full!"
Lily glances over to where Rosmerta has just pointed. Sure enough, there's a half-filled tankard abandoned at the very end of the bar, not so far from where they're all standing now. Loitering around that same corner are Potter's mates and a few 7th-year girls that Sirius Black seems to be simultaneously chatting up. Lily realises that Potter must have left his spot down there in order to come to her. She's not really surprised by this, but feels a bit discomforted all the same. Her gaze drifts up to him, but he's just grinning at Rosmerta, giving nothing away.
"Any excuse to tear you away from the bastards trying to steal your affections," Potter flirts shamelessly, giving Rosmerta a wink. His hand suddenly drops onto Lily's shoulder. She can feel his fingers curve over her collarbone. "I had to con Evans into letting me call you over for a drink order. Think it a good enough cover?"
"It'll do," Rosmerta grins, and deigns to stop giving leery looks at Potter long enough to glance at Lily and ask, "What'll it be, love?"
Lily holds back a grimace. She shrugs off Potter's hand. "Butterbeers. Four, please."
"Coming right up." Rosmerta flashes one last teasing grin at Potter. "Behave," she tells him, and then saunters back down the bar to fetch Lily's drinks.
Once she's left, Potter lets out a dramatic sigh, "And another one gets away." His eyes drop down to Lily. At least the smirk is back firmly in place. He sticks it on her at full force. "Reckon I'll catch one of you eventually."
"Good luck with that," Lily replies, sincerely hoping Rosmerta's prepared to ditch the fit bloke Lily saw her snogging outside the pub last term in order to give Potter a go. "You can go back to your abandoned butterbeer now," Lily tells the pining fool to make a point of this, motioning towards the end of the bar. "Thanks for the whistle."
The smirk drops again. Potter looks alarmed. "But that's not...I wanted to make sure you're all right."
Lily refuses to accept that he might have been watching her as she entered the pub earlier and immediately noticed her poor state, though she knows it's likely. She stares him straight in the eyes, lifts her chin defiantly, and dares him to mention it. "Why wouldn't I be?" she asks.
Potter scratches absently at the back of his neck, skittish again. "I was standing over there," he says in answer, pointing towards his butterbeer. "By the window. With the lads. Just before."
"Yes, I've discerned that."
Potter stares at her expectantly. "Over there," he repeats, jerking his head to the right. "By the window. I was standing there, drinking my butterbeer, by the window, Evans."
Exasperated, Lily turns to her right. "Potter, what the hell are you-"
She freezes.
Behind the clear glass of the small window situated just a short ways to her right, Lily makes out the hazy image of the cramped alleyway beside the Three Broomsticks.
The same alleyway she just spent the better part of ten minutes crying in after her brutal argument with Sev.
The color drains from her face.
Dear Merlin. Potter had been standing at the window. At that window. He'd seen it all. All of it.
She whirls on him, suddenly furious.
"So that's it, is it? You just stood there and watched the whole nasty scene? And now you've come to rub it in my face?" She glares daggers at him, her face heating violently, her voice sharp and scathing. She's horrified, humiliated. There's a familiar burning sensation at the back of her eyes that she ignores. "That's great, Potter. Really bloody great. Hope you enjoyed. I bet you had a nice laugh about it all-"
Potter's eyes widen. "What? No! No, I didn't-"
"I'm sure it was all just so amusing for you. Look at stupid Lily, arguing with that bastard Slytherin and then crying about it. I hope it was all properly entertaining!"
"Evans, stop-"
"You're an arsehole, do you know that? A real arsehole, James Potter!"
"I didn't watch!" Potter's voice rings out, loud and desperate even amidst the noisy din of the crowded pub. His outburst doesn't go unnoticed. The hothead Ravenclaws pause in their debate. The giggling third-years stop to stare, as well. Potter swipes an irritated hand through his hair, leans closer to her, and continues in a quieter voice, "I didn't watch, Evans. I swear it. I didn't!"
Lily's too mortified to accept the sincerity in his tone. "Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you say? And if you didn't watch, how did you...why would you know..."
"I spotted you and Snape when you first walked into the alleyway," Potter confesses, his voice hushed and somewhat strained. Lily opens her mouth to yell, but Potter interrupts, quickly adding, "But I didn't watch! You looked...it looked like a scene you wouldn't want people spying on. So I stood in front of the window-with my back to the window, Evans. Quit glowering at me like that!-so the others wouldn't spot you. I only glanced back occasionally to see if you were still there. I swear. That's it. I only saw you arguing and that you were...upset afterwards."
Lily brushes furiously at the corners of her eyes, feeling the evidence of more tears on her fingertips, but refusing to succumb to that impulse now, again, here in front of Potter. Part of her is desperate to believe him, desperate to think that her humiliation hadn't been reduced to the spectator sport she'd first envisioned when he mentioned standing by the window. It doesn't erase the fact that the boy in front of her was still a witness to her breakdown, but at least it contains it. Her natural skepticism and bruised ego keep her from clinging completely to that hope, however. If the last half-hour had taught her anything, it was that only fools cling to fruitless hopes.
Even as she thinks it, she hates the cynicism that seems to have settled over her like a heavy cloak. She'd thought she was past the point where Sev could affect her so much, but today's debacle had proven otherwise. She'd spent the whole summer coming to terms with the fact that he was no longer her best friend-no longer a friend at all-and even though it had been painful, Lily's always been the sort to rally when it counts. She'd turned him away every time he'd come knocking at her door that first week back home, hadn't she? And back here at school, when he'd approached her at Slughorn's first party, she'd walked away then, too. But today had been a surprise attack, and Lily's not quite sure why she went with him when he asked. Her mates had certainly sent her enough warning looks, but Lily hadn't heeded them. She'd gone with Sev into the alleyway and listened as he'd attempted to make his case again.
It had all turned ugly so quickly. One moment, they'd been trudging through the same old territory-yes, they'd been friends since they were children, but they weren't children anymore, and Lily was no longer willing to look upon Severus's actions with childish naivety-and the next, tempers had reared. Sev had hurled at her the same loaded slur he'd sworn he'd never intended to call her in the first place, and then left in a flurry of bitterness.
And in the wake of it all, Lily had just sat down in the dirty Hogsmeade alley and sobbed. She'd sobbed in a way that she'd never let herself sob before, because maybe she'd never let herself believe that this was truly the end of her and Sev. She'd sobbed until her lungs hurt with it, and then until a pathetic sort of hacking was the only thing she could manage. It took fifteen minutes to pull herself together, and even then she'd risen to her feet, brushed the dust from her clothes, and left the alleyway in a kind of daze. When she'd met her friends inside the Three Broomsticks, she'd known that they could tell she was upset, but she'd comforted herself with the fact that none of them could possibly know just how tragically she'd fallen to pieces.
Except now someone did know. Someone called James Potter.
Lily's eyes dart up to Potter warily. She's somewhat surprised to find him regarding her with an equal amount of trepidation. She isn't certain what she would have done next if a fortuitous interruption hadn't come in the form of Madam Rosmerta, returning with Lily's drinks.
"There we are. Four butterbeers. That'll be eight Sickles, love."
"Right." Lily goes digging in her cloak pocket for the money her mates each doled out to her earlier, but before she can even grip the loose batch of coins jingling around her pocket, Potter's already flipped the barmaid a Galleon. Rosmerta catches the golden coin with a wink, then leans over the bar to give Potter's cheek a pinch.
"This is why you're my favourite customer," she says, still grinning as she turns and saunters back down the bar to take more orders. Lily blinks after her, then glances up at Potter.
"I had the money right here," she says, frowning. "And you just paid her more than double."
Potter shrugs and grins. "Why do you think she comes when I whistle?"
Honestly? Her thoughts hadn't been anywhere near generous tipping for that one. Lily shakes her head, then shoves her hand back into her pocket and lifts out the jumble of coins. She promptly thrusts them his way. "Here," she says. "You're not buying me drinks."
Potter pushes the load of coins back at her. "You're right. I'm not buying you drinks. I'm buying"-he lifts himself up, eyes squinting behind his glasses as he examines something over her head-"Mary, Emmeline, Marley, and you drinks," he finishes.
Lily scowls. "Potter, stop-"
"Keep your money-"
"No, you take it-"
"You never let me do anything-"
"You've done enough, Potter, all right? Trust me, enough!"
Potter flinches, starting as if Lily had slapped him. The reaction is bizarre, but one that Lily isn't willing to ponder at the expense of an escape. She quickly drops the bunch of Sickles down on the bar next to Potter's hand. The metal against wood makes a loud clattering sound. Potter blinks down at the coins as Lily pulls out her wand and sends the four tankards of butterbeer to the table where her mates still sit.
"Go back to your window," Lily tells him, turning away. "Perhaps some other poor fool will be having a breakdown out there and you can not watch her."
"Lily, wait!"
She's not certain what makes her stop-the hand Potter catches her wrist with, or the fact that he's called her 'Lily', a somewhat jolting departure from their usual impersonal appellations. Either way, she's stopped and faced him once more, and now she can't possibly ignore the stricken look pulling at his usually breezy features.
"What?" she asks curtly.
The hand that isn't still gripping her wrist goes straight to his hair again. He sputters, "You never let me...er, that's...I've never..."
"Potter-"
"Apologise!" The word bursts out of him like a fit of wind, and he seems to deflate with it, the tension in his chest easing slowly. His face is red. "You've never...you've never let me apologise."
Lily's hand goes to her hip. "I thought you said you hadn't looked?"
"I'm not talking about the window!"
"Then what are you talking about?"
"Last term. After O.W.L.s. All of it. You never...you never let me apologise."
Watching him, her eyes flickering critically over his face, Lily suddenly realises what has James Potter's normally line-free complexion crinkling and cringing in an unfamiliar way.
Guilt.
He feels guilty.
She's a bit stunned.
"Potter..."
"No. Wait. Just let me say it, all right?" His words come out fast, clipped. The sensations of remorse are undoubtedly new to him. He takes a breath, his eyes strangely bright as he stares at her. "I was acting like an idiot, that day by the lake," he begins, sounding not at all like the James Potter she's used to. "We'd been holed up in the Great Hall for ages, I had things on my mind, and Snivellus was an easy target. I didn't...if I'd known you were going to come along, that the wanker would go and call you that-" He spits out the word, as if even the vague placeholder is distasteful to him. Shaking his head, he goes on without finishing the thought. "I should've realised things were getting out of hand. He might not have done it if the lot of us hadn't been ragging on him. And even though I'm not sorry that you've ditched him because the scum's always treated you like rubbish and I've never understood why you put up with it...well, no one deserves to lose a mate that way. So, I'm sorry. For that. All of it, really."
He finishes somewhat abruptly, his quick, final comments ending with a nervous silence that Lily supposes she's expected to fill. But for the few moments following his elaborate apology, Lily's not certain if speech is all that feasible.
Has she ever heard him apologise before? She grapples for an instance, but can't find one that isn't tainted entirely in jest. If there has been such an earnest moment, she honestly can't recall it. Frankly, she's not certain she's even thought him capable of it-and certainly not when the occasion involved Severus. Yet here he is, standing before her apologising for his part in the whole mess. Lily considers pinching herself.
It's Potter's sigh, not a pinch, which snaps Lily out of her surprise. His shoulders sag and he finally drops her wrist from his tight grip.
"Fine. Right. I s'ppse I deserve the quiet. I'm a bit shotty with the timing. I did try to talk to you last term, though. You just wouldn't let me, so-"
"I thought you were just looking to rub it in my face," Lily interrupts, feeling a bit guilty now, too. She shifts restlessly from foot to foot. "That's why I kept avoiding you. I thought you were just looking to say 'told you so'. I didn't want to hear it, so I just-"
"I wouldn't have," Potter says, shaking his head. "I mean, I did-tell you so, that is. But I wouldn't have said it. Bloody hell, Evans. I'm not that bad."
The comment is so typically Potter-a much needed return to her comfort zone-that Lily finds herself laughing rather than scowling, the pressure easing from her chest as the unexpected reaction escapes past her lips. Sensing a victory in this, Potter grins broadly. He leans towards her. After a moment, his eyebrows wiggle suggestively.
"You know, Evans...you might also want to reconsider-"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter. Now?"
His grin spreads, unabashed. "Sorry. Sensed a moment there. Had to try."
She snorts, a strange mixture of amusement and exasperation at his utterly one-tracked mind. She's reluctant to burst that bubble of positive feeling, but her own niggling conscious protests her continued silence in the face of Potter's recent decency. He might not be looking so stricken anymore, but he'd obviously been grappling with his part in the dissipation of her and Sev's friendship for some time-a part that, she has to admit, is probably far smaller than he realises.
"Thank you," she hears herself say, the sentiment entirely foreign when directed at him. Potter seems equally as perplexed by the unchartered territory.
"Er...you're welcome?" he guesses.
"For apologising," Lily explains, her lips quirking upwards. "And for not trying to blackmail me into dating you with what you saw in the alleyway. And for not saying 'told you so,' even if you might have done."
"Oh." He straightens, more confident now. "Right, then. You're welcome."
"But you don't have to feel guilty about what happened between Sev and me," she continues, shaking her head. "Feel guilty about acting like a prick-that, you did-but Severus would have said what he did with or without your help. I'd been living in denial about it for awhile. And honestly, any less brutal of a scene and I might've continued. Perhaps it wasn't pretty, but it's the way it had to be."
A kind of debate plays over Potter's face. Lily watches as one side wins out over the other and he grudgingly asks, "Do you reckon you'll ever..."
"Sort things out?" At James's nod, she shakes her head. "No."
He tries to hide his relief, but does a rather poor job of it. "Oh." His shoulders visibly relax. "Sorry."
Lily shrugs. "I'm a firm believer in cosmic balance. It'll even itself out eventually. New mates or something of the sort."
Potter perks up instantly. "I'm a brilliant mate!"
"I generally prefer my mates not to be constantly hitting on me."
"Really, Evans. Where's the excitement in that?"
She doesn't quite manage to bite back her smile. "I'm actually in the market for a couple of really dull friendships right now," she says, not entirely joking. "If you happen across any particularly dim or dithery simpletons looking for a mate, send them my way."
"I'm dithery," Potter says. "And you call me dim all the time!"
Lily turns, stepping away from the bar and towards her table. "No."
"But you do-"
He follows her all the way back to her table, arguing for his dimness the entire time.
Continue to Part 2