[from A Different Kind of Love]…Lily, this year I tried to eliminate the “I love you so much” and just be friends with you. And what was I left with? “I love you”. Just “I love you”.
I’ve put our friendship on the line here, and you might hate me for that. And if all you want is for things to go back to the way they were, that’s okay. I could probably make out pretty well pretending not to love you, and we could try to be friends again.
But I always will love you.
James Potter
Dear James,
I almost stopped reading after you said that to do so might endanger our friendship. I almost stopped reading because there is so very little in my life right now that matters more to me than the fact that we are friends with each other. But friends listen to each other, and so I read your letter. I guess I value our friendship enough to let you put it on the line.
I’m so glad we became friends this year, James. Our 3:00 AM discussions probably weren’t the most beneficial to my schoolwork, but I think we agree it was worth it”you never spent more than an hour on homework anyway. By the way, you’re an incredible person to have random conversations with. And if loving someone means letting him distract you for hours when you should be working, or debating underage magic policies with him until you finally both write to the Minister of Magic, or sharing a determination to fight Voldemort no matter what sacrifice that may entail, then my answer to your letter is simple: I love you too, James.
And yet I’m reluctant to write that one-sentence response for the very reasons you discussed in your letter. I’m only seventeen, and while some people (cough-Sirius-cough) might take that to mean invincible and all-knowing, I know enough of the world to know that I don’t know everything”least of all about love.
I used to have a friend I believed loved me enough to stay away from the Dark Arts. I thought love would be strong enough to protect him from joining Voldemort. But I was wrong; he loved the Dark Arts more than our friendship. And so here I am wondering if I really know anything I thought I knew about how love works.
I hope you don’t think I’m implying you want to join the Death Eaters. I’ve heard you speak eloquently and passionately enough against Dark magic that I believe you would rather die than join Voldemort. But that doesn’t change the fact that love perplexes me.
I can hear your voice in my head as I write this…so you’re seventeen, Lily. Does that somehow make you less able to love? How old do you have to be before you’ll let yourself love someone? Do your feelings suddenly become love once you turn twenty-five? And how do you imagine you’ll understand love any better ten years from now if all you’ll do in stick your toe in? How can you understand love if you won’t let yourself fall into it?
Lily, what if you turn twenty-six-and-a-half and decide it’s time to fall in love”and I’m not there to catch you? What if Cupid hits you and I’m not the first person you see?
Okay, so you probably wouldn’t say that, James, but I’m thinking it. I’m afraid of that, I suppose”that by the time I understand what love is you’ll be off doing other things. I guess the truth is that I don’t know if I’m in love with you now…but I can’t imagine ever being in love with anyone else.
I have to admit, your letter caught me off guard. I was just getting used to being friends with you”what an idea that once seemed so strange yet now feels so natural”and never even considered that you might love me, or that finding out wouldn’t bother me at all.
You would say I’m thinking this through with unnecessary thoroughness, and, though this letter is from the heart, it really should be from the gut. Well, here’s your fact of the day: the ancient Egyptians believed the stomach was the body’s center of emotion, much the way we today view the heart. In other words, according to the Egyptians, I am writing with my gut. Take that, James Potter.
But seriously, James”you wrote me a letter saying you love me, and here I am stumbling around for the truth and tripping over my own sentences because you were wonderfully clear about your feelings and I want to explain mine except I don’t even know what they are.
It’s just that you’ve obviously found a very clear understanding of what love is and how it works. That’s an excellent thing to understand.
But I’m not there yet, James. I know that I care about you in a way that I’ve never cared about anyone before. I know that I wouldn’t trade our conversations for anything, even sleep (evidently neither would you…). Like you said, we’ve gotten to be very close this year.
So can that be enough for you, James? Can it be enough that you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and all I want is to spend more time with you? Is it okay that I’m not sure if I love you or not, but you’re still the best thing in my life right now?
Part of me wants to say, please, let’s just be friends and forget what we’ve written to each other”these moments are too precious to risk spoiling them. But I know enough of the world to know that time is a one-way street. Forward is the only direction we can go.
I’m hardly ever scared of new things, James. We’re Gryffindors”we can’t help but confront the unknown head-on. I will risk my life or anything else to fight Voldemort. But this is much scarier because, unless you join the Death Eaters, there is nothing for which I would risk my friendship with you.
Well, there was nothing.
And now I’m reading your letter and suddenly the unknown doesn’t seem so bad any more. In fact, it’s rather enticing.
So I’ve stumbled my way through this letter, looking for the words that can best describe how I feel, when there’s really just one thing I mean to say:
Are you free for lunch this Friday?
One-Way Street by Nymphea
Chapter Notes: Sequel to A Different Kind of Love: Lily's response to James' letter saying he loves her.