1. 01. permanent by infinitelyrare
2. 02. resignation by infinitelyrare
3. 03. stalemate by infinitelyrare
Hi, guys! This is the first fic I’ve ever written, so reviews would be very, very, very much appreciated and loved! =)
Oh, and of course, I own nothing; everything is JKR’s.
--
“Lily, you’ve got a stain on your shirt.”
She reluctantly tears her gaze from the quartet in the corner and her eyes slide down to the lingering ring of pasta sauce near the edge of her otherwise immaculately white shirt.
Lily, usually-meticulous Lily, always-pristinely-dressed Lily wastes hardly a moment on that tainted circle of dim red and I feel something die with her indifferent wave.
“It’s nothing; I’ll have it washed and it’ll be gone. I must have accidentally dropped some sauce on myself at dinner while I was reading my book,” she says and seamlessly redirects her gaze back to the four boys playing Gobstones across the room.
She is wrong. That stain is not a result of Lily’s compulsive reading-while-eating habit. She had dropped that one strand of spaghetti on herself as she gazed furiously upon the same lanky tousled-haired boy she is narrowing her eyes at now, when he had charmed a bowl of mashed potatoes to float over to the Slytherin table and upend itself over the head of an unsuspecting first year. Lily’s flashing emerald eyes had traveled with the bowl on its journey across the room, had sparked and ignited with quick fury as realization dawned on her. She had held her fork in one hand, her fingers tightening as they curled around the utensil as it stood poised in the air; her other hand lingered loosely, unnoticed on the book she held open in her lap.
Everything about her had seemed so static, so frozen.
But I had known better.
I had known what was coming then. How could I not have? And so I had quietly pulled the lone spaghetti string off of Lily’s shirt and tugged her clenched hand away from its place on the open book and into my own. “Lily, let it go. Leave it. He only meant it as a joke.”
Her eyes had not left his laughing face and when she spoke, it was in a restrained voice, her teeth clenched and her tone hard. “I can’t just let it go, Bertram. He “ is “ Head “ Boy “ and he should know better!”
And with her sharp retort, she had pulled her hand from my loose grip and made her way towards him, her red curls bouncing as she had pulled him up by the scruff of his collar and proceeded to admonish him in front of all those dining at the time.
His eyes seemed to dance merrily as she scolded him. Hers were more animated than they had been all evening.
She had slipped back into the seat next to me ten minutes later and had shot me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Bertram. You know I had to do it.”
And so I did.
Kissing my cheek swiftly, Lily had resumed her dinner and pulled the book back into her lap. But she was fooling no one; her eyes had ceased to flit across the page as they normally do when she is reading, and a glazed expression had replaced the cold fury that had so transformed her features minutes ago.
That night, even after all of the dishes of food and all of the used plates have vanished, the solitary thread of spaghetti laid untouched on the table.
--
One week later sees us in the Common Room working on our Transfiguration homework together. It has been a week, an entire week, and I still cannot help but think about the crimson red of the stain. I am thus struck by the irony of the situation as I note that Lily is wearing this particular shirt today.
“The stain hasn’t gone,” I remark, making sure to keep my voice indifferent as I speak.
Lily raises her eyes from her parchment, confusion etched in her features until she looks down at the faint outline of the same red ring that has captivated my attention for a week.
“Oh! Oh dear, it hasn’t gone away in the wash, has it? And this was my favorite shirt, too…”
But Lily’s voice lacks the earnestness, the wistfulness that would usually accompany a statement such as this one, and as a particularly loud peal of laughter from the four boys reaches her ears, she ceases to pay the stain any attention at all.
Her eyes immediately stray to them and narrow dangerously, suspiciously, as if she is waiting for something to go horribly amiss as they take up a raucous game of Exploding Snap.
I know I shouldn’t defend them, know that every time I do, I am making myself a little more insignificant and him a little more perfect, and yet I can’t help it.
“They’re not doing anything wrong, Lily.”
“I know. But they may. They will.” Her certainty is jarring and I find myself wanting to rectify it at my own expense.
Lily’s piercing gaze attracts Sirius’s attention and he turns to look at her, a knowing smile now growing on his face as he notes her expression. “Oy, Evans, Aubrey! Come over here and play some Exploding Snap for a while!”
Lily laughs “ a sardonic, falsely mirthless laugh meant to protect her precarious façade “ and retorts, “Sorry, Black, but I’m afraid we’ve got better things to do today than to injure ourselves with you lot! I am Bertram’s and Bertram’s alone today.” Flashing a brilliantly artificial smile at Sirius, she turns back to me with a more genuine one which I struggle to return.
She is wrong. She is wrong in so many ways, so many ways, in every way imaginable.
I am with Lily; she is my girlfriend, I am her boyfriend “ but she will never be my Lily.
She’ll always be his and even she knows it as she entwines her hand with mine.
She stops abruptly before she descends the grand staircase that leads down to the entrance hall and tilts her head to the side, squinting slightly and biting her lip thoughtfully as her hand lingers on the banister.
“Have you ever wanted to slide down this stair rail, Bert? I mean, it just looks so tempting, doesn’t it? And there’s no one here…”
I struggle to hide my surprise at her words and am once again faced with a lingering, swooping feeling of disappointment. Till this moment, Lily Evans has not ever wanted to slide down the staircase on such a whim. This is not who Lily is, and yet I find that my thoughts are once again contradicting themselves, admitting that it is everything about what and who she is. This is the impulsive Lily Evans, the true Lily Evans that exists only in his presence. I therefore should be pleased that my girlfriend seems to be at perfect ease with me now, that she has decided to show me this rarely-seen side of her “ the one that she hardly ever finds herself showing because her vivacity has been subdued as of late, mirroring the dark world that awaits us outside those great doors “ but I find myself feeling as I have so often been feeling lately “ second to James Potter once again, in every single way imaginable.
Picking up on my long pause, she notes my skepticism and seizes my arm. “Oh, Bertram, don’t you just want to slide down and down? Like we’re children again! Oh, I haven’t done it in so long; Petunia and I used to slide so often when we were younger!” Her eagerly wistful voice hits my ears sharply and I am frowning despite myself.
“No.”
She pouts and looks at me with momentary disappointment that is quickly replaced as she brightens. “Well, if you won’t slide, will you at least catch me at the bottom?”
I am sure I must seem dumbfounded now for she looks slightly crestfallen and with a small shrug, makes to descend the stairs.
“Of course I will.”
She turns at my words and her face breaks out into a gleeful smile before she flings her arms around me. “Ah, you’re wonderful, Bertram! This is why I love you!”
The nonchalance of the word hits me somewhere between my heart and stomach and I reel, marveling at how easily the meaning of four letters is changed by the sincerity “ or unintentional lack thereof “ in their owner’s tone.
She flits around now, brimming with excitement as I make my way down the stairs and turn to look up at her.
“Ready?” she calls out, and I am struck by her ethereal nature as she stands at the top of the stairs almost regally; I am struck by her solid trust, by the fact that she is assured that I will catch her at the bottom. I barely nod, knowing that whatever I say or do will go unnoticed for she is already sliding down, down, down and only seconds later, she sails into my arms and laughs gaily.
“Once more!” she sings before I can protest, and she bounds up the stairs again, taking them two, three at a time in her haste to travel backwards into her childhood. She asks her “Ready?” again “ the one that we both know is unnecessary “ and slides down the banister where I am waiting for her as she flies gracefully into my open arms.
“Taking my ideas now, Evans?”
The familiar voice wafts across the once-empty hall and Lily shifts in my arms to look at the owner of the voice.
“Of course not, Potter,” she says, but her voice lacks the tone to support her offhand words and she hastily slides from my grip to stand upright. “I was simply wondering what exactly is so spectacular about this sliding that you speak of so often, and I thought I’d try it to come to a conclusion myself.”
Both he and I know she is lying now; the color that is rising to her cheeks and the slight smile that is playing on her face betrays her exhilaration and the momentary elation that has been elicited by this spontaneous return to childhood. He acknowledges it with a small smile of his own and crosses his arms.
“And so? What’s your verdict?”
“It’s overrated,” she says, waving her hand carelessly and raising one shoulder slightly, daintily. “The feeling in your stomach is quite ghastly as you’re sliding. I almost felt as if I was plummeting to my death. Not very pleasant at all.”
Her solemn voice makes him laugh and he shakes his head. “Perhaps you’d have a better experience if someone else caught you,” he says teasingly, winking in my direction with a wordless glance meant to assure me that he means it all in jest.
Lily opens her mouth to retort but decides against it.
There was once a time when she would not have done so. That time has long passed.
--
Quidditch matches always evoke the highest levels of spirit and enthusiasm amongst both students and faculty alike. It still amazes me that most students battle torrential rain or howling winds mingled with biting cold to support their respective houses unconditionally. There are no fair-weather fans in Quidditch; there is too much passion, too much desperation in clinging onto something that allows us to forget about the world, if only for a few hours, for anyone to take the sport for granted. This attitude is epitomized by none other than the players themselves, who fly not only to win but to stay alive, because flying is liberating, because it is in itself victory, because it is life.
And thus we, the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, look on in shock as James Potter, his face ashen and his eyes devoid of their usual light, pulls himself up from the table in the Great Hall and makes his way towards the doors leading out onto the pitch.
“Right, so I’ll meet you lot in the locker room in five minutes. Come out as soon as you’re done eating.”
Sirius chokes on his piece of toast and gets up immediately, moving quickly to block James’s path. “James… you’re not seriously thinking of playing, are you?”
“Of course I’m playing; why wouldn’t I play?”
Sirius’s countenance changes from one of worry to one of incredulity. “Prongs, you’ve got a horrible bout of the flu and you won’t even go to the Hospital Wing!”
“Because Madam Pomfrey won’t let me play if I go to her and ask for a potion to make me feel better!”
“You can’t play, Prongs! It’s pouring outside and it’s near freezing and you can barely breathe from your cold “”
“I have to play, Padfoot! I’m the bloody captain! If I don’t play, we’ll have to forfeit the match!” James’s expression betrays agitation now and his eyes momentarily regain their spark.
“So we’ll forfeit! You can’t play! It’s just a Quidditch match!”
“You of all people know it’s not ‘just a Quidditch match,’ Sirius!” His voice suddenly loses its fierceness as he pleads with his best friend. “I need to play. And I’m going to.” He walks around Sirius and out the door and into the entrance hall.
The rest of the team looks resignedly at his retreating back and I redirect my gaze to the bewitched sky above us. It exactly mirrors the stormy, foreboding gray hue of the field outside.
--
By the time we begin play, the rain has begun, but as always, no one has been deterred. What is a bit of rain in comparison to a Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match?
Matters soon become more complicated, though, as the steady drizzle progresses into a blinding sheet of rain, obstructing not only the view of the students and professors attempting to watch the match, but also making it quite impossible to see the other members of our own team, no less the Snitch itself.
The rain is not doing any good for James either, who looks increasingly fainter and is coughing almost ceaselessly. He flies past me towards the other side of the pitch in search of the Quaffle “ or any other Chaser, for that matter “ and I notice how his grip on his broom has slacked considerably, how his slumped form is hunched over tiredly, how he flies with less agility and control than he usually does. Only sheer perseverance and an uncanny talent for flying keeps him from keeling over from his
“James!” I call over the sound of pounding rain. “You’ve got to get out of this rain!”
“Just find the Snitch, Aubrey, and get all of us of here!” he replies tersely and I know better than to let his clipped words stand for themselves. He is dangerously ill and risking his health obstinately now and I take the responsibility now to end the game as quickly as I can.
I rise higher into the air to scan the skies and the grounds for any sight of flashing gold. After five minutes of thorough searching, I am frustrated to find nothing at all and turn to head the other way when something captures my attention immediately.
The tiny Snitch has momentarily paused in its flight some twenty feet ahead and just as relief floods me and I begin to urge my broom forward, I hear the sound of a Bludger meeting its human target somewhere to my left and I swivel in time to see the black ball hitting preoccupied James squarely in the stomach. He doubles over in immediate pain and loses his grip on his broom entirely, and before I can act, he begins to fall.
For a moment, I think that I am the only one who has just seen James begin his dangerous freefall descent, but then I see, miraculously clearly through the rain, Lily’s face transform. I am sure that I am the only one who notices the color drain from her once rosy-cheeked face. The camera she holds loosely falls from her hands and though I am high up in the air, I can still hear the thud it elicits as it hits the hard wood beneath her feet.
Panic and indecision seize me. Should I go after James and catch him before he hits the ground? But chance is not on my side today and my ability to do so is undeniably hampered by the violent weather; I would probably not reach him in time, and even if I did, I would prolong the match by losing the Snitch once again, and James would still be in danger. I turn and notice that the Snitch still bobs enticingly nearby, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision, I push my broom forward to capture the Snitch and turn sharply downwards to meet James, silently praying that I have made it in time to catch him and successfully ended the game.
My wish is unfulfilled and it is with a sinking feeling that I see his immobile figure lying still on the wet grounds. The whistle sounds as Madam Hooch realizes that I hold the struggling Snitch in my hand, but I do not notice anything but the stationary James in front of me. The rest of the Gryffindor players touch down next to me and emit loud gasps of shock at the sight of their captain lying motionless on the ground before them, and for a moment that seems never to end, we are all at a loss for words.
--
The Gryffindor common room is quieter that night than it has been in a while. A somber, uneasy silence fills the room, permeates every corner and person so that we all feel as if we are teetering precariously on the edge of a cliff. The butterbeers stand unnoticed, untouched on the tables. It matters not that this victory has catapulted us to first place in the standings for the Quidditch Cup; our Captain is injured, is sick, and no one will rest easy until we are all sure of his full recovery.
One particular person looks more anxious than the rest. Her hands twist in her lap uneasily, and she can’t keep still, shifting slightly every few moments in her unsuccessful attempt to keep her mind off James’s condition.
“Bertram,” she begins, her expression somber as she bites her lip in hesitation. “I’ve got a favor to ask of you.”
“Of course, Lily; anything.”
“Could you…. Will you go to the Hospital Wing and give James these notes, please? He needs to check these Hogsmeade dates before I give them to Dumbledore.”
I warily eye the parchment she holds out; though he and I have always been on relatively good terms, my relationship with Lily has forced a new boundary between us. We are classmates, we are Quidditch teammates, we share a dormitory, but our speaking has lately been restricted to absolute necessities: “Aubrey, can you hand me that Transfiguration book there?” and “When’s the next Quidditch practice, Potter?” are phrases which characterize our conversations.
“Can’t you give it to Remus or Black or Pettigrew? They’ll be visiting him often, won’t they?”
“I’m afraid that they’ll misplace the notes or forget to give them to James,” she says, not daring to meet my eyes. Both she and I know that she is fibbing but I find myself apprehensive of bridging the gap and asking what her true intentions are, because I know if I ask, I am admitting it all to myself, that I am accepting it “ and I’m not ready to do that.
And so I take the parchment she holds out wordlessly and nod my assent.
--
It’s nearing curfew when I finally make my way slowly, hesitantly to the Hospital Wing and I slip into the corridor unnoticed in Madam Pomfrey’s momentary absence. The lights are considerably dimmer than outside in the hallway and yet I find James’s reclining figure almost immediately.
As I approach the bed, I notice that Madam Pomfrey seems to have mended his bones, but just as I start to think that he is also entirely cured of his flu, James begins to cough violently and I quickly hand him the glass of water on the table beside him as he pushes himself into a sitting position.
“Here,” I say, forcing the glass into his hands. “Drink.”
“Aubrey?” he croaks, his voice sounding parched, as if he hasn’t had anything to drink in years. “What are you doing here?”
“Lily wanted me to give you these,” I begin, already noting his baffled expression as I hand him the pieces of parchment. “Something about Hogsmeade dates that you need to look at before Lily gives them to Professor Dumbledore to approve.”
“Lily?” The simultaneous confusion and hope, the intimacy of the name in his voice is so apparent that I blink in surprise. “If she wanted to give me these, why didn’t she come down herself?”
The hesitant shrug I give him leaves in its wake a heavy silence punctuated only by the pitter-patter of the rain outside the window. We are left in a tense stalemate for a moment before the hush is broken by a bitter laugh from James.
“Right. Because she hates me. Stupid question.”
James’s painful agitation is so palpable that I find myself wanting to tell him that he cannot be more incorrect in his belief, that this idea is so unfounded and so contradictory to everything Lily feels right now that he should be jumping for joy, letting out a celebratory whoop, taking a victory lap around the Quidditch field despite his broken state “ because he has finally got what he has wanted for the past three years.
And so I fight a wordless battle with myself: telling him all of this means that I’ll be letting go of everything I have “ letting go of Lily and finally accepting that she is not meant to be mine. It is one thing to tolerate a fact, to acknowledge its existence and entirely another to accept it, to embrace it and not wish to change it.
Torn between what is right and what is easy, what is honorable and what is valuable, I finally make my decision.
“She doesn’t hate you.”
He looks up at me and I see the hope that had ebbed away return slowly.
--
As I enter the common room a half hour later, I am unsurprised to find that it is empty save for one person. She looks up from the book she is reading and despite the limited light offered by the dying embers in the fireplace, I notice the anxiousness etched into her features immediately. She rises to meet me halfway across the common room.
“Did you give him the parchment?”
“Yes.”
“Did he look over the dates and make any changes?”
“He made a couple; here, I think this is what he changed.”
She nods and spends the next few moments distractedly scanning the parchment.
The silence seems unending and I find that I cannot handle it. “Right, I’m going to go up to bed. Good night, Lily.” I quickly kiss her forehead and turn to leave.
“Wait.” I hear her quick intake of breath before she continues. “Is he alright?”
I only hesitate for a moment before I respond.
“He will be.”
She will never be mine and I have finally resigned myself to this knowledge.
James
This gnawing feeling in my stomach will not leave. It has settled there, has comfortably made my stomach its permanent home at my own expense, and has no intention of ever departing.
I tell myself that this feeling “ this anxiety I feel so often now “ has its roots not in the arrival of the familiarly delicate rush of flowery perfume that wafts towards me as its redhead owner walks past, but rather in the daily fear that swoops down to meet the students and professors of Hogwarts as hundreds of owls fly through the open windows of the Great Hall during breakfast, some laden with reassuringly comforting packages from home, and others holding more heartbreaking and life-ending letters from the Ministry. I find sometimes, in this rush and flurry of wings and robes and emotions, that I am ashamed of myself for clinging so dearly to this hopefulness, this delicate balance that exists between Lily Evans and me, while daily, there are students whose lives are shattered, who become orphans, who lose everything that they have ever known at the hands of the evil that manifests itself in the form of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
Lily passes by and I can’t help but fall deeper into the myriad of these thoughts, wondering if I’m justified in my feeling or if I’m being a fool for caring so much about Lily and what she thinks of me.
"Come on, mate," Sirius begins, a teasing note evident in his voice already as he notices my dazed look. "How can you worry about Evans when we really should be worrying about Voldemort and his psychotic cronies out to kill all of us blood traitors?"
His words, though meant lightly and jokingly, awaken me from my contemplation abruptly and I pale, not in fear of Voldemort and the fatal danger that he seems to be so closely entwined with, but in shame of my own seemingly petty thoughts.
It is Remus who finds a way to console me as he looks up with a slight smile from the Daily Prophet he is perusing. "God knows we need a bit of love in this world, Sirius. It’s the only way we’ll come out of this darkness whole and ourselves."
"So it’s love now, is it, Prongs?" Sirius says keenly, his eyes twinkling as he jests lightly. "You love Evans?"
"Oh, sod off, Padfoot. You know I can’t retort properly this early in the morning."
--
It has almost become a routine custom for us to relax in the common room every night after dinner, and though ‘relaxing’ seems to have a calming, quiet connotation to others, we seem to find solace in noise, in numbers, in fun, in distraction.
It is thus that we are once again playing quite a loud game of Exploding Snap that began between the four of us, but has now grown to include twenty more Gryffindors and more than half the common room.
While most of the other students seem not to be bothered by the escalating noise of cheers, taunts and the host of other cacophonic sounds that accompany a game of Exploding Snap, there is, of course, one particularly displeased seventh year who can’t quite seem to keep her eyes off of the large crowd. I know it is only a matter of time before she comes over to reprimand us all, and it is with a satisfied smile to myself that I see her rise from her study group from the corner of my eye.
"I know you’re quite intent on attracting as much attention as you possibly can, but do you really need to be so obnoxiously loud, Potter? Can’t you see we’re all trying to work here?" She gestures to the circle of girls sitting by the fireplace with books in front of them, but I can’t help but notice that some are giggling at Lily’s aggravation and all seem to want nothing more to join the game.
I smile wider and motion to the gaggle of students around me. "Would you and your friends like to join, Evans? I’m sure you’d be quite endearing with singed eyebrows."
Her lips twitch for a moment as she fights a rebellious smile but she changes her expression quickly. "Of course I don’t want to join in, Potter, you know that!" she says impatiently, agitatedly. Suddenly, I find myself annoyed by the insincerity of her words and scoff.
"What? What was that scoff about?"
"I “ you wouldn’t understand, alright?"
She exhales quickly and her fist clenches as she attempts to keep her anger checked. It seems that these words aggravate her more than the game itself, more than the noise and the distraction. "What won’t I understand, James? What is it that is so far beyond my capability to comprehend that you won’t tell me?"
"This! All of this!" I gesture to the room around me and I am alarmed to notice that my voice betrays a desperation so unlike my usual confidence that it not only startles me, but judging by the surprise in her face, Lily as well. "You don’t understand! We’re seventeen, Lily! Half of us haven’t seen enough of the world to be fully prepared for it, and the other half have seen too much to ever be the same! We just… we’re still students, Lily. We’re still young. This “ this is just a way to get ourselves to think about something other than Voldemort and his Death Eaters and everything else, if only for the shortest moment, if only for a second. Can’t you understand that we need this? To be loud and joyfully raucous while we try to have fun? I need this, Lily, because the world is running out of constants and I’ve got nothing else to rely on but the time I spend with my family and friends and the people I care about."
She seems to be at a momentary loss for words due to the sudden change in tone but recovers quickly, her eyes narrowing as she advances.
"Do you think that I don’t think about the safety of my own family daily, James? Has it ever occurred to you that I understand your unease “ that maybe I feel it too, and perhaps that my anxiety is magnified tenfold because I’m Muggleborn? Or do you think that you’re the only one who suffers from the knowledge of what awaits us out there?"
"No, Lily, that’s not what I “"
"Don’t you see that we’re all feeling the same way you are, and that you’re not the only one affected by all of this? Don’t you see that we’re all looking for some way to forget about what’s going on?"
"Lily, I know “"
"Forget it, James. Just “ never mind." She turns hastily, returns to her group of friends, gathers her belongings, and leaves through the portrait hole. Bertram, who up until then had been part of the game but seemed to have observed Lily’s agitation, looks upset himself and leaves as well.
"He’s quite the obedient, attentive boyfriend, isn’t he?" Sirius says quietly, coming up next to me and looking towards the portrait hole. I shrug noncommittally as Sirius lapses into silence momentarily before speaking again.
"Listen, Prongs… it’s been a while since our last detention. It seems we’ve gotten a bit lazy in our Marauder duties. What do you say we go carry out a harmless prank on Aubrey, just for the fun of it?"
The uncomfortable feeling in my stomach returns full-force and I hesitate noticeably, giving Sirius an apprehensive look before I remember Lily’s falsity, Bertram’s perturbation, and the former’s angry words and quick exit.
"Fine. Let’s go."
--
"This Cloak isn’t big enough to hide us both fully anymore, mate. I suppose you’ve got to lose some weight soon," Sirius quips, grinning as I look down at my lanky form with bemusement. But I note quickly that Sirius is right about the Cloak being a bit too small for us both now; it is with relative difficulty that we finally manage to hide our feet under the Cloak. Just as we do so, the library doors open and Bertram appears, absorbed in a book that he holds in his arms.
"Perfect," Sirius whispers, quickly pulling his wand from his robe, pointing it at Bertram and muttering the spell. For a moment, it seems as if nothing has happened, but suddenly, the book falls from Bertram’s hands and he clutches at his head, which is quickly swelling and expanding.
Suddenly, both Sirius and I hear the sound of a door opening and turn quickly to see Lily coming out of the library as well. When she looks up to see Bertram standing before her, his head still expanding, her face pales and registers shock.
"Bertram!" she gasps, dropping her bag of books onto the ground and rushing to her boyfriend quickly. "What happened? You “ I was just behind you! What happened?"
But Bertram has absolutely no chance of responding to Lily, as his head has quickly grown to double its normal size. I try to ignore the familiar sinking feeling in my gut as Lily ushers her boyfriend towards the doors of the Hospital Wing at the near end of the corridor. Sirius pulls the Cloak off as soon as Lily is out of sight and grins good-naturedly in my direction.
"That went just as planned! Blood brilliant, eh, Prongs? We should use that same spell on Snivellus one day…."
At the sound of approaching footsteps, both Sirius and I spin around to find Lily standing behind us, her arms crossed and her stare cold.
"Detention, Sirius, and you too, Potter."
I register her flat use of my last name with a lurch as Sirius begins to protest. "Evans, James didn’t do anything to Aubrey; it was me."
"That may be true, but he did nothing to stop it," Lily states coolly as her eyes slide from Sirius’s gaze to my own before they flit back to my companion’s.
That infinitesimal moment when she had looked at me spoke volumes about what was flitting through her mind. It was not anger or fury or indifference that met my eyes. No, it was disappointment and sorrow “ disappointment that pummeled me in my gut, leaving me breathless and confused and entirely lost, and sorrow that pierced my very core, upsetting and hurting me beyond any words that Lily could hurl at me in her fury.
I am jolted from my reverie by Sirius’s loud voice calling out to Lily’s retreating back. "Oh, come off it, Evans! You can’t give us both detentions; we’ve got a match coming up, and we need all the free time we have to practice!"
Lily spins around and I notice that her eyes are flashing, their multifaceted green hues changing and shining as an emerald does in the brilliant sun.
"You should have thought about that before you hexed him, Sirius! And it’s not about him being my boyfriend, or about him being a fellow Gryffindor, before you claim those to be my reasons for giving you detention," she hisses as Sirius opens his mouth to retort. "It’s about you two not being any different from everyone else “ from the people you hate most! You hexed Bertram because of who he is “ because he’s my boyfriend! You know you wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t, so how does that make you any different from the Death Eaters who insult and attack Muggles and Muggle-borns because of their blood? You decided to take advantage of him because of who he was, didn’t you? What makes you any different from the rest of the pure-blood wizards and witches who distinguish greatness based on blood?"
"Because we don’t murder people, Evans! Because we would never do such a thing! Because we never judge people based on their blood!" Sirius says loudly, his temper rising as he fights to convince Lily of his viewpoint. I know that he is more hurt and stung by Lily’s words than she is aware of; her reference to the condescending pure-blood families hits Sirius sharply and cuts him more deeply than most other comments could have done. The constant reminder of his family’s illustrious pure-blood background brings to the forefront the rift that separates Sirius from his family members and as nonchalant as Sirius is about his relations, I of all people know how daunting and precarious a life he lives.
"Padfoot “" I begin as I move to restrain him, noting his smoldering glare and stormy eyes quickly.
"Oh, how could I forget, Sirius?" Lily starts again, laughing derisively as she too notices Sirius’s burning countenance. "You’re a member of the Black family; no wonder you are who you are."
For a moment, the tension seems unbearable as the silence between them stretches on, threatening never to end. Sirius’s eyes widen in shock as he registers Lily’s comment and then his face hardens and grows stony.
He shrugs out of my grasp, his glare still mutinous as he mutters, "Never mind. This isn’t worth it." And without another word, he stalks down the corridor, leaving Lily and me alone in his stead. It is evident that neither she nor I want to
"I’ve got to go see Bertram," she says stiffly, still not meeting my eyes and instead toeing at a particularly worn area of the carpet that lines the floor of the corridor.
I nod. "I’ll come up to the Hospital Wing as soon as I go check on Sirius."
"What? After all this, you’re still siding with him?"
I shake my head slowly. There are some things that no one will ever understand save for Sirius and me, and perhaps it is better that way. "There is no ‘siding’ with anyone in this matter, Lily. Sirius just needs me more than you or Bertram do right now."
And for what is perhaps the first time in four months, I am the one who walks away from Lily, leaving her in a silence laden with questions.
--
"Shouldn’t you be up in the Hospital Wing with Evans, checking on Aubrey?" he asks without turning to face me as he continues to stare out at the Black Lake. I see him slip the all-too-familiar worn piece of parchment into his pocket as he speaks and I slide down next to him, falling back onto the grass and staring up at the darkening sky.
"He’ll be fine," I reply shortly, surprising both Sirius and myself with my careful nonchalance. He quirks an eyebrow at me questioningly and I shrug in response. We lapse into silence as Sirius continues to gaze distractedly upon the undisturbed surface of the water in front of us. It quickly becomes a challenge between the two of us “ both always so restless and eager to speak, to act, to move “ to see which of us will be the first to break the silence. I am the one who succumbs as I pull myself up into a sitting position abruptly.
"It’s too quiet out here, Padfoot, don’t you think? I mean, it’s so different from “"
"What it’ll be like a few hours from now, when the four of us take a midnight stroll through the grounds?" He smiles slightly. "Yeah, I know." He grasps the first stone that he finds on the ground and throws it expertly into the growing darkness so that it skips across the water’s surface before it falls in. The ripples that form are momentarily amplified as the Giant Squid stirs in the lake. Sirius shifts his gaze from the lake to the grass and back up, now looking resolute but bleak.
"I know you fancy her, mate, but she’s a nasty piece of work sometimes."
"Hm. She’s just… confused."
He turns slightly to look at me and nods imperceptibly, acknowledging wordlessly that I am not justifying or defending Lily’s outburst about Sirius’s family.
"We all are, Prongs. But that doesn’t mean we hurl insults about families and blood at the prats we don’t like!"
"Well, of course we don’t resort to family insults, Padfoot. Our preferred method of light-hearted harassment includes hexes, jinxes, curses…"
Sirius smiles ruefully before he winces at my words, his expression betraying regret as he does so. "Sorry for pulling you into this, James. I shouldn’t have “"
"S’not your fault, Sirius; you know that. I could have chosen not to go with you, I could have persuaded you not to act on the idea in the first place. Now that I think about it, though, it does seem a bit stupid of us, doesn’t it? Well, obviously Lily would have found out it was us…."
"You’re a jealous bloke, Prongs. You’re quite jealous of Aubrey; everyone knows that."
"Yeah, but we’re still arses for doing it, aren’t we?"
"Yeah. Yeah, we are."
It is silent again, but only for a moment. It is Sirius who yields this time.
"He’s good for her, though," he says, avoiding my eyes as he speaks. Finally, he looks back up at me and for the first time today, I see hesitancy. "He deserves her."
I nod a little too quickly, allowing his words to wash over me as the heavy, leaden feeling of guilt settles further in my stomach.
"Yeah. Yeah, he does."
--
Twenty minutes later, I make my way up to the castle again, heading for the Hospital Wing to find Lily and Bertram. It is just as I open the Wing’s door slightly that I hear the low voices and freeze.
"You’re sure you’re alright, Bertram?" Lily’s worry is almost palpable and as I shift slightly to my right to look through the small opening, I catch a glimpse of her sitting at Bertram’s bedside, her back to the door.
Bertram laughs. "Of course, Lily. I’m fine. You know Madam Pomfrey can cure any ailment and fix anything."
"Then why is she keeping you here overnight?"
"You know that she’s cautious… a bit overcautious. She just wants to keep an eye on me for a little while longer."
Lily nods at his comforting words as a comfortable silence replaces the conversation “ and yet I’m still frozen at the door leading into the Hospital Wing. Though I urge myself to move forward and confront and apologize to Bertram once and for all, I remain immobile, feeling as if this is a conversation that I am not meant to intrude on. At this thought, another familiar pang of guilt shoots through me as I contemplate the repercussions of being caught eavesdropping by Lily, but even this uncomfortable feeling is not enough to influence me to move out or into the room.
"Lily…"
"Hmm? What is it, Bert? D’you want anything?"
"No, I’m fine. It’s just…. Did you happen to see who hexed me?"
My heart skips a beat and I breathe in quickly, waiting with dread for Lily to divulge my identity, along with Sirius’s.
And yet this revelation doesn’t come, as I register with surprise that Lily has remained silent. The silence stretches for a few more painful moments before she exhales slowly.
"No. I looked after I brought you here, but I couldn’t find them anywhere."
I hear Lily sigh and see Bertram nod at her words. I suddenly find that I cannot bear to stay at the door any longer without feeling sick and agitated. Stepping back, I pull my Invisibility Cloak out from the pocket of my robe and quickly slip under it, turning sharply away from the Hospital Wing and back down the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar as I make my way back to the common room to meet Sirius and Peter before we go down to the grounds.
--
It is nearing two o’clock in the morning when the three of us, hunched over and trying not to trod on one another’s feet, finally make our way back to the common room with extreme difficulty under the Cloak.
"You can take off your cloak, James. I know you’re here. And you too, Sirius, Peter."
We freeze halfway across the common room and contemplate our next action. Deciding to confront Lily, I pull the Invisibility Cloak off and walk towards her warily.
"Bloody hell, how does she always manage to catch us?" Sirius says with a huff as he stretches his arms and legs. Peter mumbles something inaudible and makes his way to the stairs leading to the dormitory.
"Right, well, Peter’s got the right idea; I’m off to bed," Sirius says promptly, waving tiredly as he follows Peter.
"I should have known," I say slowly, perching on the arm of a couch as I look at Lily admiringly.
"Know what?" she asks, not taking her eyes off of the letter she seems to be writing.
"That you know about my cloak. When did you first find out about it?"
She smiles slightly. "Third year. I’d noticed after a while that the portrait hole would open “ seemingly by itself “ during late nights and I decided to investigate it once. I followed you down to the kitchens. So I suppose I owe you a thanks for that. I’ve been visiting the kitchen quite frequently ever since."
"Why didn’t you tell me you knew about the Cloak, or tell anyone else about it, since you had figured out how we managed to stay out of trouble all those times?"
She shrugs, contemplating her response. "I don’t know, really. I could never bring myself to do it, even if it explained so much. Maybe I realized that you lot needed that “ that world of secrecy, of mischief, of fun, of escape and release that the Cloak seemed to provide. Or perhaps I was just fascinated that you, James Potter, of all people “ Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, the one they all love “ even you can be invisible sometimes."
She smiles and shrugs again. "I don’t know. I just never did." With a sigh and a shake of the head, she gathers her parchment, her inkwell and quill.
"Well, I’m going to bed. Good night, James," she murmurs, patting my shoulder idly as she rises. "Tell Remus to feel better."
I look up in surprise and wonder “ not for the first time “ if Lily knows of our more dangerous secrets, of full moons and Remus and the Whoming Willow and teenage Animagi, which we struggle to hide in this world of escape and mischief.
I retreat to a comfortable armchair by the dwindling fire and sit down, jumping slightly as I find a stray Remembrall lodged in its cushions. It immediately turns red as I take it in my hands, but I cannot bring myself to try and think of what it is that I have forgotten lately.
This feeling of guilt I am feeling more acutely now than ever is more than unbearable “ it is torturous, it is painful, it is deathly. It has never accompanied the burning jealousy I thought I have felt each time Lily has made a new conquest and found a new boyfriend, because it is only now I realize that what I felt then was not truly envy. I felt no guilt in teasing, goading, flirting with, and all the while liking Lily while she was with these boyfriends, because she and I were both acutely aware “ regardless of whether or not we chose to acknowledge it openly “ that she deserved more than them. They weren’t worthy of her “ weren’t clever enough, kind enough, charming enough, caring enough, attentive enough “ they didn’t deserve her, and we both knew it.
But now…. Now, it is really envy I feel, because for the first time in these seven years, Lily has found someone who is right for her. Sirius is right. Bertram is right for her; he is good to her, he is good for her, and he deserves her.
It is only as the Remembrall meets the wall in a deafening crash and a sharp explosion of glass that I admit to myself that Lily Evans will never be mine.