2010Fest ♥ FIC: The End of Denial (Part 1 of 2)
Just one piece for today's edition of lilyjames_fest!
Title: The End of Denial (Part 1 of 2)
Author: okieeiffel
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 12,500
Warnings: Book 7 Spoilers
Summary: James Potter evoked all sorts of feelings in Lily Evans. The ones she denied would be the best of them all, if she could ever bring herself to admit them, that is.
Prompt: 2. Feelings so long denied are stirring deep inside. [Amy Nuttall - No Greater Gift]
Beta(s): museme87 and punkrockangel09
Author's Notes: (optional) Many thanks go to my betas, Hillary and Vicky, for all of their help and advice, my sister for letting me steal her internet and hog her couch for the days I spent writing, and everyone who shared in my excitement that I had finally found the nerve to do this. I appreciated the encouragement!
"Feelings so long denied are stirring deep inside."-lyrics from Amy Nuttall's 'No Greater Gift'
I had been sitting at a library table by myself on that Thursday, working on some assignments that were due soon. I had texts and parchment scattered over the table top and was entirely engrossed in my work. I was oblivious as he entered the library and made his approach towards me. I hadn't realized I was going to be interrupted until he was pulling a chair out beside me.
"Wotcher, Lily!" he greeted enthusiastically as he took a seat.
I looked up from my parchment, confusion apparent on my face. Why had he sat at my table, and what was with the 'Lily'? I regarded him warily.
"Potter," I replied blandly, "can I help you?"
He fastened a large grin on his face and ran a hand through his hair making it stick up in odd directions. I arched an eyebrow at this display and bit down on my tongue to prevent myself from saying anything outright rude. I tried to never insult unless provoked.
"Hogsmeade's this weekend," he remarked nonchalantly as if discussing the weather.
"So?" I asked. I stared at him impassively, waiting for him to get to his point across. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why he had told me that. I'd known it was Hogsmeade weekend. Who didn't?
"So, I'm available," he informed me, his grin never faltering.
Still perplexed I encouraged him to explain further, "And?" After all, why would I care if he had plans for Hogsmeade or not?
His cocky smile had finally begun to wane. He let out a little snort of disbelief. "Look, I'm offering you an opportunity here," he attempted to explain to me with a slight edge in his voice.
I waited for him to elaborate but he didn't. He just looked at me as if waiting for a response. "Er-hate to break it to you, but if you've made me an offer, I've missed it then."
For a moment he looked put out. Then, his grin returned. "Oh! This is one of those 'playing hard to get' things that birds do, huh?"
"Hard to get?" I sputtered. "What in the name of all that is magical are you on about?"
An exasperated grunt escaped his lips. He looked at me as if he was just a bit peeved. Since he had been the one to come bother me, I hadn't really understood why. In fact, I started to feel quite buggered by his attitude myself. How dare he make me feel dim when he hadn't made a straightforward point since he sat down?
"Come on, Evans. It's obvious, isn’t it?"
Had I missed something? Had I quit listening to him at some point and missed a viable explanation to all of this? I'd been pretty sure I hadn't.
"No, Potter, it's not. Can you make your point soon here? I'm trying to work."
"You," he pronounced as he pointed to me. "And me," he continued as he pointed towards himself. "Hogsmeade," he finished.
"Let me get this straight, you want me to go to Hogsmeade with you? This is your way of asking me for a date?" I inquired bemusedly with a little bristle in my voice.
It really hadn't been all that obvious. In fact, of all the things I could imagine James Potter asking me for, a date was on the very bottom of the list-if it made the list at all that is.
"Finally caught on, have you?"
I had been torn on how to react to this. Should I get angry or amused by this joke? That's what it had to be after all-some horribly conceived joke. He was infamous for them. I decided to take the humorous approach. I think I had needed a good laugh, and the idea of us a couple was just too much to pass up. After a few moments, I threw my head back and laughed like a loon. I clutched my sides for support, and my eyes began to tear up. I continued on that way until Madam Pince came over and hissed, "Miss Evans!" in warning while simultaneously fixing me with the sternest of glares. I clammed up quickly, not wanting to be thrown out.
It hadn't been until I had wiped my eyes that I had looked at him, and he didn't look the least bit amused.
"Why'd you laugh like that? I don't see what was so comical." He actually had looked apprehensive-an entirely foreign look for him.
I considered him for a moment. I had been expecting him to laugh along with me, to at any moment admit this had been his rubbish idea of a joke. It never happened.
"You couldn't have possibly been serious," I answered with a bit of apprehension myself.
He didn't respond but continued to stare at me resolutely. I was struggling to make sense of all of this. My best friend, Severus, and he hated each other with the intensity of a thousand suns. James and I had never been particularly friendly with each other because of that fact.
"Why, in Merlin's name, would you want to go out with me? It's not like we get along!"
"I reckon I fancy you," he pronounced unabashedly.
That completely dumbfounded me. His sincerity did completely barmy things to my insides-things I really didn't want to consider.
"Fancy me? How can you? You don't know the first thing about me!" I said in a euphemistic whisper. I had felt like yelling it at him in frustration, but Madam Pince had decided to hang about near our table just waiting for us to cause another disruption.
"I know you're the prettiest bird I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on."
"Oh-I-hm."
I didn't know how to respond to that I was so taken aback. That had been a rather nice compliment, if not entirely besides the point. So what if he thought I was pretty? He still didn't know a thing about me . Except that I didn't like him bullying my friend-that he had to know-but how does that lead to fancying someone? Could he not make the distinction between finding someone attractive and actually liking them? I sure knew there was a difference.
"So… you'll go with me, yeah?"
"No. I'm sorry, Pot-er-James," I apologized awkwardly. "I-uh-I don't think that something between you and I would work."
"Why not?" he asked me clearly baffled.
I wanted to let him down easy. I gave him a remorseful glance and replied, "I'm afraid I don't return the sentiment."
He appeared a bit stricken then, which you would expect from someone who had just been rejected, but after a moment he seemed to gather his bearings. He looked at me with clear determination in his eyes.
"You could easily fancy me if you gave me a chance! I'm good looking. Lavinia Hill has told me so several times, you know. I'm brilliant at Quidditch. Did you not see me win the last game, how I caught the snitch? Oh! and I'm good for a laugh. Other birds go positively giddy around me. What more could you ask for in a bloke? I'm ace!"
"A little bit of humility would be nice," I replied, horrified by his attempt to persuade me.
"Yeah, well, my dad says humility is highly overrated. It never gets you what you want," he informed me.
"Well, that explains things," I quipped. I shook my head before continuing, "Listen, since you have such a high opinion of yourself, you might have trouble grasping this, but I really don't like you. You're a bully and an arrogant git. I have no interest in going to Hogsmeade with you."
"You're turning me down?" He looked crestfallen. I scoffed, because it just had to be an act. My opinion couldn't really matter that much to him could it? I couldn't have possibly held the power to make the arrogant James Potter look so dejected, or that's what I told myself anyway.
"Yeah," I said before picking up my quill and returning to my parchment, "end of discussion."
"I'll keep asking. You'll give in eventually," he responded completely ignoring my dismissal.
I continued to look at my parchment as I vowed, "You're free to do as you will, Potter, but I warn you, unless you can miraculously change your personality, I will not give in. You should consider this rejection a nice one. I have no qualms with being unkind if that's what it takes to get my point across."
I looked up at him to see that he was visibly blanched. I'd never seen him look so severe before.
"Regardless, I'll bash on, and you'll be worth it in the end," he said softly. "Once you figure out I'm not half as bad as you make me out to be." Then, he stood up and left.
I glanced up at his retreating figure, and bit at my bottom lip. "Shit," I cursed under my breath, giving my head a good shake. I once again attempted to return to the work on the table before me, but it had been to no avail.
That had been the first time James Potter asked me out, and he had no idea the sort of havoc it wrecked upon me.
My relationship with James up to that point had been unfriendly, at best. I'd never really taken the time to consider him outside of two feelings-aggravation towards his cruelty and annoyance towards his egotism. Whenever I felt or thought anything beyond that, I would bury it deep and tell myself I would never drudge it up again. It had been the loyal thing to do. James was my best friend's sworn enemy. You just can't think pleasant things about an enemy. That's not the way the world works. So to me he was just a bullying toerag, and that was it-end of story.
My denial of anything positive towards James had worked quite perfectly well for me until that night. There had never been anything that I couldn't bury, and so I thought there never would be. James had unknowingly proved to me otherwise. I couldn't forget that I had been flattered by his interest in me. I couldn't forget that I had thought about his hair, of all things, and wondered how soft it was, if it would really be as nice to run your fingers through as it looked? I couldn't forget that for a moment (even though it was an incredibly short one) I had let myself get excited about the possibilities of being with James Potter.
How was it feasible to have felt all of that if I truly despised the bleeding ponce?
I could think of only one explanation for my unwanted feelings. Somehow, incredibly, against my mind’s every objection to his personality, despite the fact that he hated my best mate-well, my body had gone ahead and became attracted to him.
There was a problem with me coming to that conclusion. I couldn't take it back. I knew now, which made continually denying him a bit of a chore. I was tempted to just snog the bloke a few times, or you know, at least until my body was content, and then say, "See you later, prat!" However, my mind repelled the idea. I couldn’t put aside the fact that he was such an utter ponce, not even for a moment. What sort of integrity would a girl have if she did? Not any sort.
Not to mention the extreme betrayal that would've been towards Severus.
I had a will of steel. I never gave an inch, no matter how much my body wanted me to. I turned him down every time he asked, just as I had promised. I was probably harsher than was called for, but honestly, how irritating is it when temptation keeps being thrown in your face? It's not like he couldn't use some deflating anyway.
I told myself that, since being with James was not feasible, I had to try to find another bloke that could evoke those same feelings in my body that he did. Surely there was another one. Surely. I tried to date other boys, but my body was giving me a rather hard time of it. It seemed to feel comparing each of them to him and find them lacking entirely necessary. I never felt much of anything in my late night snogs. My heart didn’t thump wildly in my chest. I was never left breathless and never tempted to go further. I was sorely disappointed.
When fifth year came to an end, I was quite glad to be done with it. By the end of term, James' methods of pursual had been entirely maddening, and my friendship with Severus had been on the brink because of the people he had started to befriend-people who hated me. Our friendship ultimately ended when he had called me a Mudblood. That had hurt more than words can say. I had spent most of a year keeping my feelings at bay for someone who hated him, and he couldn't have been bothered to return the favor. It had definitely not been my favorite year at Hogwarts.
As hard as I tried to convince myself during that summer that I shouldn't think about James at all-that I needed a break from him-I was unsuccessful. I imagined yelling at him, him yelling at me, and being caught up in him somehow, in all the passion of anger. I would snog him hard, filling my kisses with all of the rage and madness he made me feel over five long years. My fantasies of him were the only time I felt my body have a proper response to snogging, and it wasn't even really happening- how entirely frustrating.
When sixth year began, I had thought James would pick up right where he had left off, but he didn't. He never asked me to Hogsmeade again. His new tactic in making me squirm seemed to have been avoid and ignore. I couldn't have said that any bit of me was happy about this tactic, but I knew that’s what I should have felt. What did it mean that I found his inattention almost unbearable? Isn’t that what I'd wanted-to be rid of temptation?
His parting phrase from his first attempt at asking me to Hogsmeade would repeat in my mind.
"Once you figure out I'm not half as bad as you make me out to be."
Even though it seemed like his interest in me had ceased, I found myself wanting to reevaluate my feelings for him. I admitted to myself that my friendship with Severus had probably made my vision of James a little unclear. I wondered if I would still think so badly of James if I considered him uninhibited by my previous friendship. After all, I told myself, hadn't there been a few things I purposely chosen to overlook before?
The war our world was going through had reached Hogwarts. News poured in about the lives that were being lost and the people that had gone missing. There were quite a few solemn faces in the corridors. Many students were hurting and angry from loss; others were scared that their loved ones would be next. I had thought before that the only person James Potter cared about was James Potter, occasionally sparing a thought for one of his mates, maybe, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I saw him go out of his way to converse with people I knew had suffered personally from the war. They would smile as he spoke to them. They would look less forlorn as he walked away.
Wasn't that, by its very definition, compassion? Where had that come from? On occasion I had caught him harassing other students still. What a rather maddening enigma. How could he go out of his way to try to ease the suffering of someone at one moment and be a tormenter of another the next? It took me awhile, but eventually I reasoned through it.
It wasn't as if he had been harassing people for the hell of it. As I mentioned before there were students in the school who bought heavily into You-Know-Who's philosophy of 'down with the Mudbloods!', and they did their best to make sure every Muggle-born they came across knew it. When James saw one of those students tormenting a Muggle-born, he put a stop to it. To those tormenters he had been indifferent. He seemed to enjoy harassing them in return.
So I guess 'which one is he-compassionate or a bully?' had been the wrong question to ask. I should have asked, 'is it possible he's both?' It seemed to me James had clear cut lines in his head of who was deserving of his compassion, and who wasn't. He acted accordingly.
I tried to be cross about the bullying bit of him, but I found myself quite willing to make an exception for his cruelty in those instances. I’m not saying that I condoned his behavior. He could have put a stop to it without having been cruel himself, but he had found Muggle-borns worthy of defending. He defended in the best way he knew how. I couldn't be too angry about that.
It didn't take any more than that and I was admitting to myself something I would have never thought possible. Somehow, incredibly, despite my every previous objection and our less than savory history, I fancied him. I fancied James Potter.
The first time I laughed at some stunt he and his mates had pulled marked my first attempt to show my fancy to him. Real direct, I know, but it was somewhat effective. He noticed. How could he not? I had never laughed before.
My laughter had ceased instantly from self-consciousness when I'd become aware of him staring at me. I stared back. His face had been a mixture between shocked awe and bewilderment. I offered up a sheepish grin and small shrug. Then, his face transformed, and he smiled back.
I’ll never forget that smile. It was real, not cocky, not oh-aren’t-you-so-impressed-with-me-am-I-not-the-most-amazing-thing-you’ve-ever-had-the-pleasure-of-encountering? It seemed to be made of pure happiness. In that moment I told myself I would smile at him much more often. Except that it wasn’t as easy to put into practice as I had thought. Somewhere between the creation of my new resolution and the opportunity to apply it, I had had a thought-more like a doubt, an insecurity of my own. It wasn't like the bloke still fancied me. Hadn’t he been oblivious of me for the better part of a year?
When he had smiled at me like that, it'd been easy enough to convince myself that he wanted me to smile at him, but maybe he had just been caught up in the moment. Maybe if I randomly smiled at him again, he would look at me like I was a grand prized pin-head or, quite possibly, not even acknowledge me at all. I tried to call upon some courage that I knew must be in me somewhere (the mad hat had put me in Gryffindor after all) but to no avail. Merlin, how the tables had turned! It was all so entirely unfair.
I waited until the last moment to make another move. I had felt this odd stirring within me, like if I didn’t do something, anything, right then…well, what if I never got another chance? I suppose I shouldn't have really called it a move per say-more like a slight fraction of a nudge in the right direction, maybe-but it was more than laughing at least.
When I was heading toward the barrier at King’s Cross at the end of term, I saw him out of the corner of my eye. After a moment’s hesitation, I quickly strode towards him. He had looked slightly nervous of my approach, but I didn’t let that deter me. I fastened the brightest smile that I could onto my face. As fast as I could I said, "Have a great summer!" I then strode away as quickly as my legs could carry me, leaving him with his mouth slightly agape. I had looked and sounded for all the world like a love struck fan girl without a single brain cell.
Brilliant.
My summer had been an anxious one. I was torn between feeling I had done the right thing and being positively sure I had ruined any chances that may or may not have existed at impressing him.
I fantasized a bit. Sometimes it went well. I said, "Have a great summer!" and I didn’t have a chance this time to get away. He caught me, kissed me, evoked every kind of feeling I had ever wanted from him, and then released me with, "You too, love." Sometimes it didn’t go so well. I said, "Have a great summer!" he laughed in my face and replied, "Merlin, what a nutter you are." I didn’t like those as much, but I believed that was really his feelings about my behavior. I would have been inclined to agree with him, but I have some pride.
Seventh year came along and with it, it seemed to me, came endless possibilities. Dumbledore, either entirely mad or utterly brilliant (perhaps both?), had named James Head Boy and me Head Girl. I was positively sure that this year would be different than the last. I knew that James wouldn’t be able to ignore me entirely. I knew that even if he did think I was nutter, he still would have to spend a decent amount of time with me doing head duties, and I was positively sure that I would be able to come up with a multitude of new randy scenes for my fantasies during our time together. I just hadn’t expected that it would be even better than that. I never dared to hope for more.
When I entered the head compartment on September 1st, he was standing there gazing out the window with his hands in his pockets. I tried to enjoy the view while simultaneously praying to whatever gods may be that he would take pity on me and not be too harsh. He turned his head toward me, slowly, way too slowly for my taste, but eventually his eyes reached mine, and he held my gaze as he gave me the smile again.
I smiled back, all the while thanking whatever wonderful beings had listened to my prayers. Then, he sighed. A sigh of relief, happiness, contentment, longing, I wasn't really sure-maybe a little bit of all of that. What I did know was that I sure liked the sound. We sat down across from one another and silence ensued. I grappled for something to say, anything to say that I wouldn’t have to beat myself up about later.
"Hello, James. Was your summer-great?"
I felt my face heat up. I should have just said feel free to call me a nutter anytime.
He let out a short bark of laughter.
"Sure, yeah, it was great. How was yours-great, I hope?" he said with a smile and a lift of his eyebrow.
He was taking the mickey. Just brilliant.
"Um, no, not exactly."
That might have sounded a bit more forlorn then I originally intended. The wistful sigh at the end probably didn’t help either. His expression dropped its teasing nature.
"I’m sorry to hear it."
And he did look it-sorry. Wasn’t that nice? Bugger it all, I didn’t know what I should say next.
"So, you're not going to ignore me anymore I take it?"
The hell. Something about congrats on being made Head Boy would have sufficed. He looked surprised at my abrupt change of subject and the sudden harshness of my tone, all vestiges of my embarrassment entirely gone.
"Well-I," he struggled. "That’s-" He ran a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.
"I mean, it’s not like you could if you wanted to anymore," I added.
He studied me for a moment after that. Can’t say that I blamed him. I'd been a loony bird.
"Did it bother you that I-it’s just, after the end of fifth year, I thought you might appreciate it, and I was a tad bit, you know... embarrassed. I thought maybe it would be best if I gave you some distance. Was I wrong to do that? I didn’t think it would upset you, just the opposite actually," he said finishing with an apologetic shrug.
Oh, he had been embarrassed. I suppose that made a certain amount of sense, and well, hadn’t even Ithought I should be happy he was ignoring me? How was he supposed to know about the feelings for him I was keeping at bay? Still, I felt all bristly. His line of questioning was far from comfortable. Having to admit that he had the power to upset me when he couldn't give two knuts for my opinion anymore, was something I just couldn't do. So just like I had always done in the past when James made me feel uncomfortable, I lashed out insensitively.
"No, it didn’t upset me." I gave a very un-lady like snort before continuing, "Of course not, why would it? I was just wondering how the bloody hell we were going to get on together as Head Boy and Girl if you planned on continuing to pretend I don’t exist."
"I wouldn’t say I was pretending you don’t exist. I just wanted to avoid any sort of confrontation with you. Can you blame me? You were less than pleasant."
I was less than pleasant? The nerve!
"You deserved every less than pleasant sentiment I threw your way, James Potter!"
This was going to get ugly fast. I could tell.
"Alright, maybe so, Lily," he conceded, raising his hands up in the sign of defeat. "Listen, maybe we should talk about this another time. We are supposed to go talk to the prefects."
Or not.
Ugh. Had he just defused my argument? Why, yes. Yes, he had, and damn it he had a valid point, too. Stupid git.
"Fine, you’re right, but let’s not bring it up again, alright? Let’s just do our jobs and try not to bother one another."
I blamed the entire row on my defenses. They were apparently unaware that they were supposed to be nice to him.
"Fine," he said sharply. He looked blank. Unreadable.
Dear Merlin, what had I done? Where had the smile gone? That wonderful sigh? My defenses had ruined everything.
I wanted to apologize, but I simply couldn’t get the words out. I went with a different tactic. Change the subject. It’s what he wanted anyway. He had said so.
"Good. Alright, so with the prefects we will need to discuss the rules on that parchment that was sent to us. Rounds will be…"
"I know," he interjected curtly, "I had a nice, long chat with Remus. He’s already explained it all. Shall we go?"
He stood up and began to leave. My hand shot out to his arm on its own accord as he walked past me. My body never really did put much consideration into what my mind and defenses wanted. Only, how should I explain why I was holding on to his arm? It felt entirely too nice to be touching him. Arms shouldn’t feel that bloody good. I knew I should probably let go, and say something, but it was all so much easier said than done.
"I-Um."
I was so verbose. It should all be catching up to him about now. He’ll marvel at my cleverness.
My hand slid down his arm and dropped back into my lap. I stared down at it. I didn’t think this was going well at all.
After a few moments had passed, he spoke, "You are entirely confusing-do you know that?"
Well, I probably could have guessed.
"I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be."
He considered me for a moment. "S’okay. I'm up for the challenge," he assured me.
"Challenge?" I questioned.
"Yeah, figuring you out- it's a hell of a challenge."
I hadn't been sure what to make of that-was being a challenge good or bad? And well, he was trying to figure me out that had to be a good thing, right? I searched his face to see if I could find an answer. I couldn’t really read it, but his eyes were ever so serious and intense. I felt hope bubble up within me. I knew I'd be perfectly content to sit there and gaze into his magnificent eyes for ages, but then, he spoke and the moment was over.
"We should go, Lily."
He couldn't fancy me. He kept bringing up prefect meetings. That’s just not something a bloke does when the girl of his affections is staring longingly at him.
Bugger it.
"Oh, yeah, right," I said with a shake of my head as if that would clear the muddled mess within it.
I stood up somewhat shakily. My body was protesting since it wasn’t getting what it wanted. James pulled the door open and stepped aside. He waved his arm forward, and with a charming smile said, "after you."
I walked out of the compartment and stopped to wait for him to move through and close the door behind him.
I smiled and jokingly said, "I never figured you for a gentleman."
It might have been construed as flirting in some cultures. His response definitely was.
"Oh, I’m not-not at all. I was just enjoying the view of your quite lovely backside."
The grin on my face was quickly replaced with a look of pure shock. I could feel heat spread across my cheeks and knew that I was horrifying shade of red. I wished I had enough experience with flirting that I could've thought of something in response, but instead, I just stayed silent and red.
He chuckled and looked entirely too pleased with himself. As he took hold of my arm near my elbow to prod me forward into walking, I finally managed to get out a soft, "randy git."
That had been the start of something new and quite fun between us. James had gleaned one tidbit of information from that encounter: I had allowed him to flirt with me. With that tidbit, he once again changed his tactic on how to go about making me squirm. Only this time, I wasn't even going to pretend I didn’t like it. I did my best to keep things in perspective, though. After over a month had passed of just flirting, it was safer to assume the bloke just liked to flirt rather than believe he had any real interest in me.
The day of October the 10th had been a less than pleasant day for me. I knew it would be when I woke up at 8:24 and Transfiguration started at 8:00. I’ve slept in on three separate occasions in my time at Hogwarts, and those three days had all been some of the worst of my life. I told my mum that once hoping to evoke some sympathy on how unfair fate can be to me at times. Her only advice to me was, "That’s why they say the early bird gets the worm, Lily. It has nothing to do with fate and everything to do with laziness. Just get up when you’re supposed to and you won’t have any problems then, will you?"
I really don’t know why I ever bothered asking my mum for sympathy. She couldn't have been more wrong.
I walked into Transfiguration exactly 12 minutes after I had awoken in a state of complete disarray. I attempted not to cause distraction as I made my way to my desk. That was bit difficult, however, seeing as how I was hyperventilating at having run so fast. McGonagall didn’t look at me until the moment I sat down. She then paused for a moment in her lecture to say, "Miss Evans, please stay after class."
I knew that I was in for it. If it had been any other class, I would have gotten a slap on the wrist at the most. McGonagall could be such a cow.
When class let out, James didn't head straight for the door. He made a beeline for me instead.
Smashing. Had I mentioned I was in a state of complete disarray?
He stopped beside me. I fidgeted uncomfortably hoping he wouldn't notice what a mess I was. It was feasible thing to hope for wasn't it?
Without warning he took a loose strand of my hair in his hand, giving it a soft tug. "You know, I think I like the bed head look. It suits you."
Perhaps it hadn't been too feasible then.
Instead of dropping my hair after his tug he began to wind it around his fingers. "If you want, you could come find me later. I’ll give you a tip on how to make it even messier."
Instead of saying something like 'sounds fun' or anything equally as flirty, I retorted, "Don't count on it. I have every intention of sorting out this mess as soon as I'm done here." I then proceeded to remove his hand and scowl at him.
I never said that I had gotten any better at flirting. At least I had moved onto responding in full sentences.
He looked as if he were going to say something else but McGonagall interrupted him, "Do you need something, Potter?"
"No, Professor. I was just on my way out." He gave me a grin before heading towards the door.
“Why were you late, Miss Evans?”
I’d never been very good at lying to authority figures, so I told her the truth.
"I overslept. I’m sorry, Professor," I explained with an apologetic look.
"I see. Well, you can come here tonight at seven for a detention then, Miss Evans. Head Girls have to face the consequences for being late the same as everyone else. Do set an alarm in the future. You are looked to as an example."
What a pleasant woman.
I nodded my head solemnly and replied, "Yes, Professor," before turning to leave the classroom.
The corridor was devoid of my mates. I made my way towards my next class, Charms, a little bit incensed that none of them had waited for me or had felt it prudent to wake me up this morning. These were my internal musings as I ran straight into Severus and took a tumble so hard I knew my bum would be hurting for a week.
Severus was not by himself. He had a couple of Slytherins flanking either side of him, so of course, he was not going to be pleasant.
"Watch where you are going, Mudblood!" he hissed while the others laughed down at me.
I felt my eyes begin to tear up. My bum was killing me, my pride was not to happy with me being on the floor, and now I had to deal with Severus insulting me. I fought back the tears and let myself get angry instead. It's a much easier emotion to deal with. I did my best to glare holes straight through him.
"I apologize, Snivellus." I retorted, interjecting my voice with venom when I said his nickname. I knew the name induced the same anger in him that the word Mudblood did in me. I silently thanked the immaturity of James Potter for having come up with it.
A look akin to regret flashed across his face before it was quickly replaced with his scowl again.
He turned to his lackeys and remarked, "Let's go. I feel ill even being this close to one." They muttered their agreements to his sentiment, and then, the group moved on without another word to me. He spared me a backwards glance, a look of apology written on his face.
Well, he could take his apologetic look and shove off!
I found myself wishing I had never considered Severus a friend at all. Then it wouldn’t hurt that he'd bought into You-Know-Who's philosophy-that he had not found me worthy of defending. I had meant so little to him, and he had meant so much to me.
I shook my head. I really need to move on from that. I picked myself up, brushed myself off, and continued on my way to class. I made it to Charms just in time. I took my seat next to one of my friends, Alice.
I immediately turned to question her, "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"I'm sorry, Lily! I thought maybe you wanted to skip breakfast for a bit of a lie-in. I thought you had an alarm. Oh! And by the way…" She grabbed an envelope from her bag and slid it towards me across our desk. "This came for you in the post this morning."
It looked elegant, and it looked Muggle. It was also very white.
Oh, dear.
"That can't be good," I acknowledged it with a frown.
"Why not?"
Flitwick chose that moment to begin calling the roll.
I glanced down at the envelope with a bit of trepidation. I looked back up at Alice who merely shrugged and gave me a look that clearly said, 'open it, silly.' I retuned my attention back to it and opened it slowly. It was an invitation to my sister Petunia’s wedding to Vernon Dursley.
Ugh.
He was an awful man, and soon I was going to have to refer to him as a brother. I knew there was an in-law after it, but did it really matter? I was still going to have to use the word "brother" in reference to him. Having to use the word sister in reference to Petunia was bad enough.
At the bottom of the invitation my sister had written in her tight, neat script, I’m only sending this to you because Mum made me. Feel free to not show up.
I took out a bit of parchment and began to write a response, acting all the while like I was a dutiful student taking notes.
Petunia,
It would be only a pleasure for me to not attend your wedding. I’m sure it will be an entirely stuffy, drawn out, and over done affair. I'm sure the guest list will be composed of a bunch of snooty people that outwardly profess to have class but are really just a bunch of snakes. I’m also sure there will be entirely too much pink for my eyes to endure. However, you and I both know that if I were to not attend your wedding that Mum would go into a tizzy. So consider this my formal RSVP. My only consolation for being forced to be there is knowing how unhappy you will be that I am.
Wishing you the best of unluck as you plan your special day.
Unfortunately your sister,
Lily
I can be a bit unpleasant at times if I put my mind to it, but she started it. She could have just sent me the invitation, and I would have given her a formal reply. I might have even forced myself into writing "congratulations," but how cold was she that she didn’t even want me at her own wedding? Not that I was surprised, but did she have to say it? No. I could have guessed that she wouldn’t want me there, but her rubbing it in how much she truly despised me? It was something that I would just never get used to.
I was feeling pretty low by lunch time. Two people who I used to love and used to love me had shown me exactly just how thin the line was between love and hate. I was feeling wholly depressed, and I just wanted my favorite dish to comfort myself with, except that it wasn’t there. Of course, it wouldn’t be there. I wallowed while I ate, finding no comfort in whatever food I had plopped on my plate for sustenance purposes only.
It was a credit to how well my mates knew me that they didn’t have to ask about my behavior. They knew quite well that any day I overslept was a day that I would be barmy. They did try their best to cheer me, bless them, but they gave up shortly after when nothing they did elevated my melancholy mood. They had succeeded at one thing. I didn’t feel quite so unloved anymore.
I headed to the library to finish my Potions assignment after lunch. Potions had always come rather easy to me, so I had procrastinated a bit, thinking I would have time to finish the assignment during the free period before. Only, when I had thought that, I didn’t know I was going to sleep in that day.
The ruddy assignment might as well have been written in another language. I honestly had no idea where the questions were coming from, and Potions was usually rather cut and dry. I couldn’t find the answers in my text. I pulled some extra books off of the shelves and began rummaging through them. I was in an all out panic when fifteen minutes before Potions I had only found two answers out of the ten questions. I was franticly flipping through the pages, but it was all for naught.
I waited until the last minute to leave the library. I scribbled down some bull shit answers to the questions I had left and headed out the door. I was in an all out run to get to Potions on time. I knew I was taking the stairs too fast on one of my unlucky days, but I couldn’t slow down when I got to them. I didn’t fall down them. No, I just got my foot stuck in a trick step is all. Since I was running late to get to class, no one came along behind me to lift me out. I tried to tug it out the best I could, but it was to no avail. Every time I gave a tug my foot seemed to sink further.
Once again, I felt like weeping. I had never skived a class before. It was my seventh year of Hogwarts and I was missing Potions. Would Slughorn buy that I would have been there if my leg hadn’t been stuck in a stair? Was I going to have to face another detention? With two detentions under my belt in a single day, would Dumbledore realize that I couldn’t be trusted as a model student and take away my Head Girl title?
I sat down on the steps in a huff, and tried not to scream in frustration. To pass the time until class was over and I would be rescued, I thought about potential horrible things that could happen to me during the rest of the day. The possibility of something swinging from the ceiling and decapitating me was at the top of my list.
I’m sure that thought might have had something to do with Nearly Headless Nick walking (er…floating?) by at some point. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have called out to get his attention, and I’m sure he would have gone to get someone to help me out. It would have saved me the embarrassment of being caught in a trick step by my peers, but unfortunately the only thought I had was 'why bother to call him? He certainly can’t lift me out.' And, of course, by the time I had my more coherent thought he had already moved on.
When Potions let out the first group to hit me were the Slytherins. They laughed, called me the usual, and proceeded to continue up the stairs without removing me from the trick step.
It’s not like I wanted them to touch me, anyway. I think I’d have rather had to gnaw off my own foot.
My fellow Gryffindors came a few moments later, and I was finally hoisted out of my imprisonment. I tried not to limp because my foot was throbbing-those trick steps are not comfy-and I tried not to show my wounded pride at having been found in one. I waved them on as I told them I was going to go down to explain to Slughorn my predicament and plead for mercy.
Slughorn is a much more reasonable human being than McGonagall. It just had to be said. I missed his entire class and I didn’t get a detention.
"Those blasted steps! What purpose is there to them anyway? I’ve told Dumbledore all along that something should be done about them, but does he listen? I think he thinks they’re clever, but for the life of me I don’t understand it. See, now, here you are, quite the promising young witch, being kept from your studies because of them," he ranted and then shook his head in a disbelieving sort of way.
"I guess I’ll just have to mind my step a bit better from now on, Professor."
"Oh, indeed you should, Lily, indeed you should. Would you like to turn in your assignment? I would hate to miss yours. You’re such a clever girl. I’ve never found grading your papers to be much of a task. In fact, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say I enjoy them!"
Maybe I shouldn’t have wished unluck on my sister. That's what I got for it.
"Yes. Um…here it is," I chirped handing it to him perhaps a bit reluctantly (not that he had to pry it from my fingers or anything). "Thanks, Professor," I said trying to sound like I meant it. After all, he was being so reasonably pleasant and all.
The rest of the day went by without the apocalypse occurring, and all my limbs and various body parts remained intact. I had to polish trophies for detention. Filch was less than pleasant as usual. After I had polished and shined an entire case, he came in and made a face of clear disapproval. Apparently, my polishing expertise was not up to his standard, and he made me redo the entire case. I took extra care, but he still didn’t let me out until it was past 11:00.
( This story conludes in Part 2 here.)
Title: The End of Denial (Part 1 of 2)
Author: okieeiffel
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 12,500
Warnings: Book 7 Spoilers
Summary: James Potter evoked all sorts of feelings in Lily Evans. The ones she denied would be the best of them all, if she could ever bring herself to admit them, that is.
Prompt: 2. Feelings so long denied are stirring deep inside. [Amy Nuttall - No Greater Gift]
Beta(s): museme87 and punkrockangel09
Author's Notes: (optional) Many thanks go to my betas, Hillary and Vicky, for all of their help and advice, my sister for letting me steal her internet and hog her couch for the days I spent writing, and everyone who shared in my excitement that I had finally found the nerve to do this. I appreciated the encouragement!
"Feelings so long denied are stirring deep inside."-lyrics from Amy Nuttall's 'No Greater Gift'
I had been sitting at a library table by myself on that Thursday, working on some assignments that were due soon. I had texts and parchment scattered over the table top and was entirely engrossed in my work. I was oblivious as he entered the library and made his approach towards me. I hadn't realized I was going to be interrupted until he was pulling a chair out beside me.
"Wotcher, Lily!" he greeted enthusiastically as he took a seat.
I looked up from my parchment, confusion apparent on my face. Why had he sat at my table, and what was with the 'Lily'? I regarded him warily.
"Potter," I replied blandly, "can I help you?"
He fastened a large grin on his face and ran a hand through his hair making it stick up in odd directions. I arched an eyebrow at this display and bit down on my tongue to prevent myself from saying anything outright rude. I tried to never insult unless provoked.
"Hogsmeade's this weekend," he remarked nonchalantly as if discussing the weather.
"So?" I asked. I stared at him impassively, waiting for him to get to his point across. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why he had told me that. I'd known it was Hogsmeade weekend. Who didn't?
"So, I'm available," he informed me, his grin never faltering.
Still perplexed I encouraged him to explain further, "And?" After all, why would I care if he had plans for Hogsmeade or not?
His cocky smile had finally begun to wane. He let out a little snort of disbelief. "Look, I'm offering you an opportunity here," he attempted to explain to me with a slight edge in his voice.
I waited for him to elaborate but he didn't. He just looked at me as if waiting for a response. "Er-hate to break it to you, but if you've made me an offer, I've missed it then."
For a moment he looked put out. Then, his grin returned. "Oh! This is one of those 'playing hard to get' things that birds do, huh?"
"Hard to get?" I sputtered. "What in the name of all that is magical are you on about?"
An exasperated grunt escaped his lips. He looked at me as if he was just a bit peeved. Since he had been the one to come bother me, I hadn't really understood why. In fact, I started to feel quite buggered by his attitude myself. How dare he make me feel dim when he hadn't made a straightforward point since he sat down?
"Come on, Evans. It's obvious, isn’t it?"
Had I missed something? Had I quit listening to him at some point and missed a viable explanation to all of this? I'd been pretty sure I hadn't.
"No, Potter, it's not. Can you make your point soon here? I'm trying to work."
"You," he pronounced as he pointed to me. "And me," he continued as he pointed towards himself. "Hogsmeade," he finished.
"Let me get this straight, you want me to go to Hogsmeade with you? This is your way of asking me for a date?" I inquired bemusedly with a little bristle in my voice.
It really hadn't been all that obvious. In fact, of all the things I could imagine James Potter asking me for, a date was on the very bottom of the list-if it made the list at all that is.
"Finally caught on, have you?"
I had been torn on how to react to this. Should I get angry or amused by this joke? That's what it had to be after all-some horribly conceived joke. He was infamous for them. I decided to take the humorous approach. I think I had needed a good laugh, and the idea of us a couple was just too much to pass up. After a few moments, I threw my head back and laughed like a loon. I clutched my sides for support, and my eyes began to tear up. I continued on that way until Madam Pince came over and hissed, "Miss Evans!" in warning while simultaneously fixing me with the sternest of glares. I clammed up quickly, not wanting to be thrown out.
It hadn't been until I had wiped my eyes that I had looked at him, and he didn't look the least bit amused.
"Why'd you laugh like that? I don't see what was so comical." He actually had looked apprehensive-an entirely foreign look for him.
I considered him for a moment. I had been expecting him to laugh along with me, to at any moment admit this had been his rubbish idea of a joke. It never happened.
"You couldn't have possibly been serious," I answered with a bit of apprehension myself.
He didn't respond but continued to stare at me resolutely. I was struggling to make sense of all of this. My best friend, Severus, and he hated each other with the intensity of a thousand suns. James and I had never been particularly friendly with each other because of that fact.
"Why, in Merlin's name, would you want to go out with me? It's not like we get along!"
"I reckon I fancy you," he pronounced unabashedly.
That completely dumbfounded me. His sincerity did completely barmy things to my insides-things I really didn't want to consider.
"Fancy me? How can you? You don't know the first thing about me!" I said in a euphemistic whisper. I had felt like yelling it at him in frustration, but Madam Pince had decided to hang about near our table just waiting for us to cause another disruption.
"I know you're the prettiest bird I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on."
"Oh-I-hm."
I didn't know how to respond to that I was so taken aback. That had been a rather nice compliment, if not entirely besides the point. So what if he thought I was pretty? He still didn't know a thing about me . Except that I didn't like him bullying my friend-that he had to know-but how does that lead to fancying someone? Could he not make the distinction between finding someone attractive and actually liking them? I sure knew there was a difference.
"So… you'll go with me, yeah?"
"No. I'm sorry, Pot-er-James," I apologized awkwardly. "I-uh-I don't think that something between you and I would work."
"Why not?" he asked me clearly baffled.
I wanted to let him down easy. I gave him a remorseful glance and replied, "I'm afraid I don't return the sentiment."
He appeared a bit stricken then, which you would expect from someone who had just been rejected, but after a moment he seemed to gather his bearings. He looked at me with clear determination in his eyes.
"You could easily fancy me if you gave me a chance! I'm good looking. Lavinia Hill has told me so several times, you know. I'm brilliant at Quidditch. Did you not see me win the last game, how I caught the snitch? Oh! and I'm good for a laugh. Other birds go positively giddy around me. What more could you ask for in a bloke? I'm ace!"
"A little bit of humility would be nice," I replied, horrified by his attempt to persuade me.
"Yeah, well, my dad says humility is highly overrated. It never gets you what you want," he informed me.
"Well, that explains things," I quipped. I shook my head before continuing, "Listen, since you have such a high opinion of yourself, you might have trouble grasping this, but I really don't like you. You're a bully and an arrogant git. I have no interest in going to Hogsmeade with you."
"You're turning me down?" He looked crestfallen. I scoffed, because it just had to be an act. My opinion couldn't really matter that much to him could it? I couldn't have possibly held the power to make the arrogant James Potter look so dejected, or that's what I told myself anyway.
"Yeah," I said before picking up my quill and returning to my parchment, "end of discussion."
"I'll keep asking. You'll give in eventually," he responded completely ignoring my dismissal.
I continued to look at my parchment as I vowed, "You're free to do as you will, Potter, but I warn you, unless you can miraculously change your personality, I will not give in. You should consider this rejection a nice one. I have no qualms with being unkind if that's what it takes to get my point across."
I looked up at him to see that he was visibly blanched. I'd never seen him look so severe before.
"Regardless, I'll bash on, and you'll be worth it in the end," he said softly. "Once you figure out I'm not half as bad as you make me out to be." Then, he stood up and left.
I glanced up at his retreating figure, and bit at my bottom lip. "Shit," I cursed under my breath, giving my head a good shake. I once again attempted to return to the work on the table before me, but it had been to no avail.
That had been the first time James Potter asked me out, and he had no idea the sort of havoc it wrecked upon me.
My relationship with James up to that point had been unfriendly, at best. I'd never really taken the time to consider him outside of two feelings-aggravation towards his cruelty and annoyance towards his egotism. Whenever I felt or thought anything beyond that, I would bury it deep and tell myself I would never drudge it up again. It had been the loyal thing to do. James was my best friend's sworn enemy. You just can't think pleasant things about an enemy. That's not the way the world works. So to me he was just a bullying toerag, and that was it-end of story.
My denial of anything positive towards James had worked quite perfectly well for me until that night. There had never been anything that I couldn't bury, and so I thought there never would be. James had unknowingly proved to me otherwise. I couldn't forget that I had been flattered by his interest in me. I couldn't forget that I had thought about his hair, of all things, and wondered how soft it was, if it would really be as nice to run your fingers through as it looked? I couldn't forget that for a moment (even though it was an incredibly short one) I had let myself get excited about the possibilities of being with James Potter.
How was it feasible to have felt all of that if I truly despised the bleeding ponce?
I could think of only one explanation for my unwanted feelings. Somehow, incredibly, against my mind’s every objection to his personality, despite the fact that he hated my best mate-well, my body had gone ahead and became attracted to him.
There was a problem with me coming to that conclusion. I couldn't take it back. I knew now, which made continually denying him a bit of a chore. I was tempted to just snog the bloke a few times, or you know, at least until my body was content, and then say, "See you later, prat!" However, my mind repelled the idea. I couldn’t put aside the fact that he was such an utter ponce, not even for a moment. What sort of integrity would a girl have if she did? Not any sort.
Not to mention the extreme betrayal that would've been towards Severus.
I had a will of steel. I never gave an inch, no matter how much my body wanted me to. I turned him down every time he asked, just as I had promised. I was probably harsher than was called for, but honestly, how irritating is it when temptation keeps being thrown in your face? It's not like he couldn't use some deflating anyway.
I told myself that, since being with James was not feasible, I had to try to find another bloke that could evoke those same feelings in my body that he did. Surely there was another one. Surely. I tried to date other boys, but my body was giving me a rather hard time of it. It seemed to feel comparing each of them to him and find them lacking entirely necessary. I never felt much of anything in my late night snogs. My heart didn’t thump wildly in my chest. I was never left breathless and never tempted to go further. I was sorely disappointed.
When fifth year came to an end, I was quite glad to be done with it. By the end of term, James' methods of pursual had been entirely maddening, and my friendship with Severus had been on the brink because of the people he had started to befriend-people who hated me. Our friendship ultimately ended when he had called me a Mudblood. That had hurt more than words can say. I had spent most of a year keeping my feelings at bay for someone who hated him, and he couldn't have been bothered to return the favor. It had definitely not been my favorite year at Hogwarts.
As hard as I tried to convince myself during that summer that I shouldn't think about James at all-that I needed a break from him-I was unsuccessful. I imagined yelling at him, him yelling at me, and being caught up in him somehow, in all the passion of anger. I would snog him hard, filling my kisses with all of the rage and madness he made me feel over five long years. My fantasies of him were the only time I felt my body have a proper response to snogging, and it wasn't even really happening- how entirely frustrating.
When sixth year began, I had thought James would pick up right where he had left off, but he didn't. He never asked me to Hogsmeade again. His new tactic in making me squirm seemed to have been avoid and ignore. I couldn't have said that any bit of me was happy about this tactic, but I knew that’s what I should have felt. What did it mean that I found his inattention almost unbearable? Isn’t that what I'd wanted-to be rid of temptation?
His parting phrase from his first attempt at asking me to Hogsmeade would repeat in my mind.
"Once you figure out I'm not half as bad as you make me out to be."
Even though it seemed like his interest in me had ceased, I found myself wanting to reevaluate my feelings for him. I admitted to myself that my friendship with Severus had probably made my vision of James a little unclear. I wondered if I would still think so badly of James if I considered him uninhibited by my previous friendship. After all, I told myself, hadn't there been a few things I purposely chosen to overlook before?
The war our world was going through had reached Hogwarts. News poured in about the lives that were being lost and the people that had gone missing. There were quite a few solemn faces in the corridors. Many students were hurting and angry from loss; others were scared that their loved ones would be next. I had thought before that the only person James Potter cared about was James Potter, occasionally sparing a thought for one of his mates, maybe, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I saw him go out of his way to converse with people I knew had suffered personally from the war. They would smile as he spoke to them. They would look less forlorn as he walked away.
Wasn't that, by its very definition, compassion? Where had that come from? On occasion I had caught him harassing other students still. What a rather maddening enigma. How could he go out of his way to try to ease the suffering of someone at one moment and be a tormenter of another the next? It took me awhile, but eventually I reasoned through it.
It wasn't as if he had been harassing people for the hell of it. As I mentioned before there were students in the school who bought heavily into You-Know-Who's philosophy of 'down with the Mudbloods!', and they did their best to make sure every Muggle-born they came across knew it. When James saw one of those students tormenting a Muggle-born, he put a stop to it. To those tormenters he had been indifferent. He seemed to enjoy harassing them in return.
So I guess 'which one is he-compassionate or a bully?' had been the wrong question to ask. I should have asked, 'is it possible he's both?' It seemed to me James had clear cut lines in his head of who was deserving of his compassion, and who wasn't. He acted accordingly.
I tried to be cross about the bullying bit of him, but I found myself quite willing to make an exception for his cruelty in those instances. I’m not saying that I condoned his behavior. He could have put a stop to it without having been cruel himself, but he had found Muggle-borns worthy of defending. He defended in the best way he knew how. I couldn't be too angry about that.
It didn't take any more than that and I was admitting to myself something I would have never thought possible. Somehow, incredibly, despite my every previous objection and our less than savory history, I fancied him. I fancied James Potter.
The first time I laughed at some stunt he and his mates had pulled marked my first attempt to show my fancy to him. Real direct, I know, but it was somewhat effective. He noticed. How could he not? I had never laughed before.
My laughter had ceased instantly from self-consciousness when I'd become aware of him staring at me. I stared back. His face had been a mixture between shocked awe and bewilderment. I offered up a sheepish grin and small shrug. Then, his face transformed, and he smiled back.
I’ll never forget that smile. It was real, not cocky, not oh-aren’t-you-so-impressed-with-me-am-I-not-the-most-amazing-thing-you’ve-ever-had-the-pleasure-of-encountering? It seemed to be made of pure happiness. In that moment I told myself I would smile at him much more often. Except that it wasn’t as easy to put into practice as I had thought. Somewhere between the creation of my new resolution and the opportunity to apply it, I had had a thought-more like a doubt, an insecurity of my own. It wasn't like the bloke still fancied me. Hadn’t he been oblivious of me for the better part of a year?
When he had smiled at me like that, it'd been easy enough to convince myself that he wanted me to smile at him, but maybe he had just been caught up in the moment. Maybe if I randomly smiled at him again, he would look at me like I was a grand prized pin-head or, quite possibly, not even acknowledge me at all. I tried to call upon some courage that I knew must be in me somewhere (the mad hat had put me in Gryffindor after all) but to no avail. Merlin, how the tables had turned! It was all so entirely unfair.
I waited until the last moment to make another move. I had felt this odd stirring within me, like if I didn’t do something, anything, right then…well, what if I never got another chance? I suppose I shouldn't have really called it a move per say-more like a slight fraction of a nudge in the right direction, maybe-but it was more than laughing at least.
When I was heading toward the barrier at King’s Cross at the end of term, I saw him out of the corner of my eye. After a moment’s hesitation, I quickly strode towards him. He had looked slightly nervous of my approach, but I didn’t let that deter me. I fastened the brightest smile that I could onto my face. As fast as I could I said, "Have a great summer!" I then strode away as quickly as my legs could carry me, leaving him with his mouth slightly agape. I had looked and sounded for all the world like a love struck fan girl without a single brain cell.
Brilliant.
My summer had been an anxious one. I was torn between feeling I had done the right thing and being positively sure I had ruined any chances that may or may not have existed at impressing him.
I fantasized a bit. Sometimes it went well. I said, "Have a great summer!" and I didn’t have a chance this time to get away. He caught me, kissed me, evoked every kind of feeling I had ever wanted from him, and then released me with, "You too, love." Sometimes it didn’t go so well. I said, "Have a great summer!" he laughed in my face and replied, "Merlin, what a nutter you are." I didn’t like those as much, but I believed that was really his feelings about my behavior. I would have been inclined to agree with him, but I have some pride.
Seventh year came along and with it, it seemed to me, came endless possibilities. Dumbledore, either entirely mad or utterly brilliant (perhaps both?), had named James Head Boy and me Head Girl. I was positively sure that this year would be different than the last. I knew that James wouldn’t be able to ignore me entirely. I knew that even if he did think I was nutter, he still would have to spend a decent amount of time with me doing head duties, and I was positively sure that I would be able to come up with a multitude of new randy scenes for my fantasies during our time together. I just hadn’t expected that it would be even better than that. I never dared to hope for more.
When I entered the head compartment on September 1st, he was standing there gazing out the window with his hands in his pockets. I tried to enjoy the view while simultaneously praying to whatever gods may be that he would take pity on me and not be too harsh. He turned his head toward me, slowly, way too slowly for my taste, but eventually his eyes reached mine, and he held my gaze as he gave me the smile again.
I smiled back, all the while thanking whatever wonderful beings had listened to my prayers. Then, he sighed. A sigh of relief, happiness, contentment, longing, I wasn't really sure-maybe a little bit of all of that. What I did know was that I sure liked the sound. We sat down across from one another and silence ensued. I grappled for something to say, anything to say that I wouldn’t have to beat myself up about later.
"Hello, James. Was your summer-great?"
I felt my face heat up. I should have just said feel free to call me a nutter anytime.
He let out a short bark of laughter.
"Sure, yeah, it was great. How was yours-great, I hope?" he said with a smile and a lift of his eyebrow.
He was taking the mickey. Just brilliant.
"Um, no, not exactly."
That might have sounded a bit more forlorn then I originally intended. The wistful sigh at the end probably didn’t help either. His expression dropped its teasing nature.
"I’m sorry to hear it."
And he did look it-sorry. Wasn’t that nice? Bugger it all, I didn’t know what I should say next.
"So, you're not going to ignore me anymore I take it?"
The hell. Something about congrats on being made Head Boy would have sufficed. He looked surprised at my abrupt change of subject and the sudden harshness of my tone, all vestiges of my embarrassment entirely gone.
"Well-I," he struggled. "That’s-" He ran a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.
"I mean, it’s not like you could if you wanted to anymore," I added.
He studied me for a moment after that. Can’t say that I blamed him. I'd been a loony bird.
"Did it bother you that I-it’s just, after the end of fifth year, I thought you might appreciate it, and I was a tad bit, you know... embarrassed. I thought maybe it would be best if I gave you some distance. Was I wrong to do that? I didn’t think it would upset you, just the opposite actually," he said finishing with an apologetic shrug.
Oh, he had been embarrassed. I suppose that made a certain amount of sense, and well, hadn’t even Ithought I should be happy he was ignoring me? How was he supposed to know about the feelings for him I was keeping at bay? Still, I felt all bristly. His line of questioning was far from comfortable. Having to admit that he had the power to upset me when he couldn't give two knuts for my opinion anymore, was something I just couldn't do. So just like I had always done in the past when James made me feel uncomfortable, I lashed out insensitively.
"No, it didn’t upset me." I gave a very un-lady like snort before continuing, "Of course not, why would it? I was just wondering how the bloody hell we were going to get on together as Head Boy and Girl if you planned on continuing to pretend I don’t exist."
"I wouldn’t say I was pretending you don’t exist. I just wanted to avoid any sort of confrontation with you. Can you blame me? You were less than pleasant."
I was less than pleasant? The nerve!
"You deserved every less than pleasant sentiment I threw your way, James Potter!"
This was going to get ugly fast. I could tell.
"Alright, maybe so, Lily," he conceded, raising his hands up in the sign of defeat. "Listen, maybe we should talk about this another time. We are supposed to go talk to the prefects."
Or not.
Ugh. Had he just defused my argument? Why, yes. Yes, he had, and damn it he had a valid point, too. Stupid git.
"Fine, you’re right, but let’s not bring it up again, alright? Let’s just do our jobs and try not to bother one another."
I blamed the entire row on my defenses. They were apparently unaware that they were supposed to be nice to him.
"Fine," he said sharply. He looked blank. Unreadable.
Dear Merlin, what had I done? Where had the smile gone? That wonderful sigh? My defenses had ruined everything.
I wanted to apologize, but I simply couldn’t get the words out. I went with a different tactic. Change the subject. It’s what he wanted anyway. He had said so.
"Good. Alright, so with the prefects we will need to discuss the rules on that parchment that was sent to us. Rounds will be…"
"I know," he interjected curtly, "I had a nice, long chat with Remus. He’s already explained it all. Shall we go?"
He stood up and began to leave. My hand shot out to his arm on its own accord as he walked past me. My body never really did put much consideration into what my mind and defenses wanted. Only, how should I explain why I was holding on to his arm? It felt entirely too nice to be touching him. Arms shouldn’t feel that bloody good. I knew I should probably let go, and say something, but it was all so much easier said than done.
"I-Um."
I was so verbose. It should all be catching up to him about now. He’ll marvel at my cleverness.
My hand slid down his arm and dropped back into my lap. I stared down at it. I didn’t think this was going well at all.
After a few moments had passed, he spoke, "You are entirely confusing-do you know that?"
Well, I probably could have guessed.
"I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be."
He considered me for a moment. "S’okay. I'm up for the challenge," he assured me.
"Challenge?" I questioned.
"Yeah, figuring you out- it's a hell of a challenge."
I hadn't been sure what to make of that-was being a challenge good or bad? And well, he was trying to figure me out that had to be a good thing, right? I searched his face to see if I could find an answer. I couldn’t really read it, but his eyes were ever so serious and intense. I felt hope bubble up within me. I knew I'd be perfectly content to sit there and gaze into his magnificent eyes for ages, but then, he spoke and the moment was over.
"We should go, Lily."
He couldn't fancy me. He kept bringing up prefect meetings. That’s just not something a bloke does when the girl of his affections is staring longingly at him.
Bugger it.
"Oh, yeah, right," I said with a shake of my head as if that would clear the muddled mess within it.
I stood up somewhat shakily. My body was protesting since it wasn’t getting what it wanted. James pulled the door open and stepped aside. He waved his arm forward, and with a charming smile said, "after you."
I walked out of the compartment and stopped to wait for him to move through and close the door behind him.
I smiled and jokingly said, "I never figured you for a gentleman."
It might have been construed as flirting in some cultures. His response definitely was.
"Oh, I’m not-not at all. I was just enjoying the view of your quite lovely backside."
The grin on my face was quickly replaced with a look of pure shock. I could feel heat spread across my cheeks and knew that I was horrifying shade of red. I wished I had enough experience with flirting that I could've thought of something in response, but instead, I just stayed silent and red.
He chuckled and looked entirely too pleased with himself. As he took hold of my arm near my elbow to prod me forward into walking, I finally managed to get out a soft, "randy git."
That had been the start of something new and quite fun between us. James had gleaned one tidbit of information from that encounter: I had allowed him to flirt with me. With that tidbit, he once again changed his tactic on how to go about making me squirm. Only this time, I wasn't even going to pretend I didn’t like it. I did my best to keep things in perspective, though. After over a month had passed of just flirting, it was safer to assume the bloke just liked to flirt rather than believe he had any real interest in me.
The day of October the 10th had been a less than pleasant day for me. I knew it would be when I woke up at 8:24 and Transfiguration started at 8:00. I’ve slept in on three separate occasions in my time at Hogwarts, and those three days had all been some of the worst of my life. I told my mum that once hoping to evoke some sympathy on how unfair fate can be to me at times. Her only advice to me was, "That’s why they say the early bird gets the worm, Lily. It has nothing to do with fate and everything to do with laziness. Just get up when you’re supposed to and you won’t have any problems then, will you?"
I really don’t know why I ever bothered asking my mum for sympathy. She couldn't have been more wrong.
I walked into Transfiguration exactly 12 minutes after I had awoken in a state of complete disarray. I attempted not to cause distraction as I made my way to my desk. That was bit difficult, however, seeing as how I was hyperventilating at having run so fast. McGonagall didn’t look at me until the moment I sat down. She then paused for a moment in her lecture to say, "Miss Evans, please stay after class."
I knew that I was in for it. If it had been any other class, I would have gotten a slap on the wrist at the most. McGonagall could be such a cow.
When class let out, James didn't head straight for the door. He made a beeline for me instead.
Smashing. Had I mentioned I was in a state of complete disarray?
He stopped beside me. I fidgeted uncomfortably hoping he wouldn't notice what a mess I was. It was feasible thing to hope for wasn't it?
Without warning he took a loose strand of my hair in his hand, giving it a soft tug. "You know, I think I like the bed head look. It suits you."
Perhaps it hadn't been too feasible then.
Instead of dropping my hair after his tug he began to wind it around his fingers. "If you want, you could come find me later. I’ll give you a tip on how to make it even messier."
Instead of saying something like 'sounds fun' or anything equally as flirty, I retorted, "Don't count on it. I have every intention of sorting out this mess as soon as I'm done here." I then proceeded to remove his hand and scowl at him.
I never said that I had gotten any better at flirting. At least I had moved onto responding in full sentences.
He looked as if he were going to say something else but McGonagall interrupted him, "Do you need something, Potter?"
"No, Professor. I was just on my way out." He gave me a grin before heading towards the door.
“Why were you late, Miss Evans?”
I’d never been very good at lying to authority figures, so I told her the truth.
"I overslept. I’m sorry, Professor," I explained with an apologetic look.
"I see. Well, you can come here tonight at seven for a detention then, Miss Evans. Head Girls have to face the consequences for being late the same as everyone else. Do set an alarm in the future. You are looked to as an example."
What a pleasant woman.
I nodded my head solemnly and replied, "Yes, Professor," before turning to leave the classroom.
The corridor was devoid of my mates. I made my way towards my next class, Charms, a little bit incensed that none of them had waited for me or had felt it prudent to wake me up this morning. These were my internal musings as I ran straight into Severus and took a tumble so hard I knew my bum would be hurting for a week.
Severus was not by himself. He had a couple of Slytherins flanking either side of him, so of course, he was not going to be pleasant.
"Watch where you are going, Mudblood!" he hissed while the others laughed down at me.
I felt my eyes begin to tear up. My bum was killing me, my pride was not to happy with me being on the floor, and now I had to deal with Severus insulting me. I fought back the tears and let myself get angry instead. It's a much easier emotion to deal with. I did my best to glare holes straight through him.
"I apologize, Snivellus." I retorted, interjecting my voice with venom when I said his nickname. I knew the name induced the same anger in him that the word Mudblood did in me. I silently thanked the immaturity of James Potter for having come up with it.
A look akin to regret flashed across his face before it was quickly replaced with his scowl again.
He turned to his lackeys and remarked, "Let's go. I feel ill even being this close to one." They muttered their agreements to his sentiment, and then, the group moved on without another word to me. He spared me a backwards glance, a look of apology written on his face.
Well, he could take his apologetic look and shove off!
I found myself wishing I had never considered Severus a friend at all. Then it wouldn’t hurt that he'd bought into You-Know-Who's philosophy-that he had not found me worthy of defending. I had meant so little to him, and he had meant so much to me.
I shook my head. I really need to move on from that. I picked myself up, brushed myself off, and continued on my way to class. I made it to Charms just in time. I took my seat next to one of my friends, Alice.
I immediately turned to question her, "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"I'm sorry, Lily! I thought maybe you wanted to skip breakfast for a bit of a lie-in. I thought you had an alarm. Oh! And by the way…" She grabbed an envelope from her bag and slid it towards me across our desk. "This came for you in the post this morning."
It looked elegant, and it looked Muggle. It was also very white.
Oh, dear.
"That can't be good," I acknowledged it with a frown.
"Why not?"
Flitwick chose that moment to begin calling the roll.
I glanced down at the envelope with a bit of trepidation. I looked back up at Alice who merely shrugged and gave me a look that clearly said, 'open it, silly.' I retuned my attention back to it and opened it slowly. It was an invitation to my sister Petunia’s wedding to Vernon Dursley.
Ugh.
He was an awful man, and soon I was going to have to refer to him as a brother. I knew there was an in-law after it, but did it really matter? I was still going to have to use the word "brother" in reference to him. Having to use the word sister in reference to Petunia was bad enough.
At the bottom of the invitation my sister had written in her tight, neat script, I’m only sending this to you because Mum made me. Feel free to not show up.
I took out a bit of parchment and began to write a response, acting all the while like I was a dutiful student taking notes.
Petunia,
It would be only a pleasure for me to not attend your wedding. I’m sure it will be an entirely stuffy, drawn out, and over done affair. I'm sure the guest list will be composed of a bunch of snooty people that outwardly profess to have class but are really just a bunch of snakes. I’m also sure there will be entirely too much pink for my eyes to endure. However, you and I both know that if I were to not attend your wedding that Mum would go into a tizzy. So consider this my formal RSVP. My only consolation for being forced to be there is knowing how unhappy you will be that I am.
Wishing you the best of unluck as you plan your special day.
Unfortunately your sister,
Lily
I can be a bit unpleasant at times if I put my mind to it, but she started it. She could have just sent me the invitation, and I would have given her a formal reply. I might have even forced myself into writing "congratulations," but how cold was she that she didn’t even want me at her own wedding? Not that I was surprised, but did she have to say it? No. I could have guessed that she wouldn’t want me there, but her rubbing it in how much she truly despised me? It was something that I would just never get used to.
I was feeling pretty low by lunch time. Two people who I used to love and used to love me had shown me exactly just how thin the line was between love and hate. I was feeling wholly depressed, and I just wanted my favorite dish to comfort myself with, except that it wasn’t there. Of course, it wouldn’t be there. I wallowed while I ate, finding no comfort in whatever food I had plopped on my plate for sustenance purposes only.
It was a credit to how well my mates knew me that they didn’t have to ask about my behavior. They knew quite well that any day I overslept was a day that I would be barmy. They did try their best to cheer me, bless them, but they gave up shortly after when nothing they did elevated my melancholy mood. They had succeeded at one thing. I didn’t feel quite so unloved anymore.
I headed to the library to finish my Potions assignment after lunch. Potions had always come rather easy to me, so I had procrastinated a bit, thinking I would have time to finish the assignment during the free period before. Only, when I had thought that, I didn’t know I was going to sleep in that day.
The ruddy assignment might as well have been written in another language. I honestly had no idea where the questions were coming from, and Potions was usually rather cut and dry. I couldn’t find the answers in my text. I pulled some extra books off of the shelves and began rummaging through them. I was in an all out panic when fifteen minutes before Potions I had only found two answers out of the ten questions. I was franticly flipping through the pages, but it was all for naught.
I waited until the last minute to leave the library. I scribbled down some bull shit answers to the questions I had left and headed out the door. I was in an all out run to get to Potions on time. I knew I was taking the stairs too fast on one of my unlucky days, but I couldn’t slow down when I got to them. I didn’t fall down them. No, I just got my foot stuck in a trick step is all. Since I was running late to get to class, no one came along behind me to lift me out. I tried to tug it out the best I could, but it was to no avail. Every time I gave a tug my foot seemed to sink further.
Once again, I felt like weeping. I had never skived a class before. It was my seventh year of Hogwarts and I was missing Potions. Would Slughorn buy that I would have been there if my leg hadn’t been stuck in a stair? Was I going to have to face another detention? With two detentions under my belt in a single day, would Dumbledore realize that I couldn’t be trusted as a model student and take away my Head Girl title?
I sat down on the steps in a huff, and tried not to scream in frustration. To pass the time until class was over and I would be rescued, I thought about potential horrible things that could happen to me during the rest of the day. The possibility of something swinging from the ceiling and decapitating me was at the top of my list.
I’m sure that thought might have had something to do with Nearly Headless Nick walking (er…floating?) by at some point. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have called out to get his attention, and I’m sure he would have gone to get someone to help me out. It would have saved me the embarrassment of being caught in a trick step by my peers, but unfortunately the only thought I had was 'why bother to call him? He certainly can’t lift me out.' And, of course, by the time I had my more coherent thought he had already moved on.
When Potions let out the first group to hit me were the Slytherins. They laughed, called me the usual, and proceeded to continue up the stairs without removing me from the trick step.
It’s not like I wanted them to touch me, anyway. I think I’d have rather had to gnaw off my own foot.
My fellow Gryffindors came a few moments later, and I was finally hoisted out of my imprisonment. I tried not to limp because my foot was throbbing-those trick steps are not comfy-and I tried not to show my wounded pride at having been found in one. I waved them on as I told them I was going to go down to explain to Slughorn my predicament and plead for mercy.
Slughorn is a much more reasonable human being than McGonagall. It just had to be said. I missed his entire class and I didn’t get a detention.
"Those blasted steps! What purpose is there to them anyway? I’ve told Dumbledore all along that something should be done about them, but does he listen? I think he thinks they’re clever, but for the life of me I don’t understand it. See, now, here you are, quite the promising young witch, being kept from your studies because of them," he ranted and then shook his head in a disbelieving sort of way.
"I guess I’ll just have to mind my step a bit better from now on, Professor."
"Oh, indeed you should, Lily, indeed you should. Would you like to turn in your assignment? I would hate to miss yours. You’re such a clever girl. I’ve never found grading your papers to be much of a task. In fact, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say I enjoy them!"
Maybe I shouldn’t have wished unluck on my sister. That's what I got for it.
"Yes. Um…here it is," I chirped handing it to him perhaps a bit reluctantly (not that he had to pry it from my fingers or anything). "Thanks, Professor," I said trying to sound like I meant it. After all, he was being so reasonably pleasant and all.
The rest of the day went by without the apocalypse occurring, and all my limbs and various body parts remained intact. I had to polish trophies for detention. Filch was less than pleasant as usual. After I had polished and shined an entire case, he came in and made a face of clear disapproval. Apparently, my polishing expertise was not up to his standard, and he made me redo the entire case. I took extra care, but he still didn’t let me out until it was past 11:00.
( This story conludes in Part 2 here.)