Where Are We Now?
Chapter Two: Regret
By: forestFIRE
Summary: Five years after Hogwarts ended, James has become a bitter Quidditch player with a girlfriend-who isn't Lily-that he hardly knows and has found that Lily's back in his thoughts and life once more.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of J.K. Rowling's characters or events in the HP Books.
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The woman stared at the pictures of James in her magazine. There was nothing that she could see that was so perfect about him. His mask, the one she would come to realize was always the one who existe, would never fall. Even as he flew, the still mask never came off. She yearned to see him once the emotional person he once was, but she knew it would never happen. Moving slowly, her gown swished softly as she moved in the car. How did she get turned into a person like him?
Was she like him? Was she as fake, as ruthless, and as cold as him? Looking at herself, she groaned at the dress she was wearing. It was far too low for her own taste and her makeup was too much. But sometimes, she felt like a plastic doll, forced to do what these people around her wanted her to do. Where was the muggleborn girl that would fight against anyone who pushed her down? She suddenly wanted to scream at herself.
She remembered when he had loved her like none other. But was everything, all those sweet words whispered to her just lies? Sometimes, she would lay in bed at stare up at the dark wood planks above her head and wonder if those nights that she had spent holding him would ever exist again. Convincing herself again that it was all in the past and she had to look forward, she slowly composed herself.
A mask of coolness formed on her beautiful face, as her dark-green eyes flickered here and there. She could hear
the screams, the squeals and cat-calls that were outside the muggle car. It was almost as if she was in the place of
James, as she stood outside, a slight smile on her face. Before her, a crowd of wizards and witches screaming her
name.
James laughed with the woman, her arms wrapped around his waist, as they watched the muggle movie together in his flat. His mind wondered as he pretended amusement at the stupidity of the characters. How long ago was it that he didn't have fake everything that came out of his mouth? Was it so long ago that he could not remember it?
He lay in his bed, turned away from the passionate woman that lay next to him. Did he love her? Oh how he pretended he did. With their flirty kisses and warm hugs outside of their house, with love making that never ceased to arouse him (or so they thought), he was such a good actor to all, that even his own mother was fooled. They all believed that they were the ones that would truly be together, the ones that were made together. But how little did they know. It was more than obvious of her love for him. But did anyone, anyone turn around and look at his love for her?
Sometimes, he thought that everything that he knew and loved was just a lie, waiting to find him and capture him. He remembered those times, when he didn't have to fear the past that was just waiting, waiting for someone to discover.
He remembered a red-headed girl, with a violent temper, who took his breath away. He remembered a painfully handsome man, once his best friend. He remembered a sandy-haired man, who gave him the chance to win the love of his life. He remembered a mousy boy, his friend that always seemed to be there for him. And most of all, he remembered the terrible looks, the terrible glances that they all gave him once he changed.
Twisting in his bed, he knew he didn't have to, but was blinded. They offered him money, a chance to be remembered in history, a job, and most of all, a world that he could trap himself in.
"James, why are you doing this? Stop it! Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong? Don't touch me."
"Get away from me. What happened to James Harold Potter, my best friend? This is a mistake, a mistake."
"If you ever remember our words, in the far future when you're a famous Quidditch star, you'll remember this as the worst mistake of your life."
"Shut the fuck up James. Just leave us all alone. We don't need more of your `I am god' shit."
"James. Potter. Why I'd never think that the famous, handsome, stunning, and wonderful Gryffindor chaser would ever leave his friends behind. At least I remember your solemn swear to your friends in-what?-first year to your friends who then trusted you. And didn't you so happily swear to them that you would never leave them, that they would always be the Marauders? Didn't you? Well, I guess you, not Pettigrew as I speculated back then, but you, the leader of them all, was the one to leave them with no one to trust, no one to believe any more. And that girl of yours. I'll bet you've ruined her life forever. I remember that you promised her that you would never hurt her heart that you would never cause a single tear to slide down her face. I suppose you failed them all in the end."
A burning sensation filled his eyes, as he struggled not to let down the tears. A man should never cry, his tutors had once told him when he did, from the pressure that he had to uphold. It was a strange feeling, he thought, as he squinted, telling himself not to let those tears down. He told himself over and over again that it was for his own good, that it helped him, only half-believing what he thought. But it worked, as he turned over again, now turning toward the woman who lay in bed with him. His heart didn't pump faster as he looked at her and a warm feeling didn't gush through him like it once did.
Was that all a mistake?
Was everything that had known for five whole years just a lie? Was it worth all the hatred that he had received from these people that more than often knew him better than himself? Smiling quite coldly, he turned over one last time and thought the last thought of the night.
Yes.
His hand clenched dangerously, as the men around him told him to calm down. Nasty rants of hatred filled his head, as he remembered how he had left them, and when he discovered his mistake, he came crawling back to them. But by then, they were far from forgiving him, so far that for the first time, it was them that turned their backs on his pathetic form. But that was truly an dramatization.
But what had really happened? It happened so quickly that he doubted that anyone of them had even realized that their friendship had disappeared, until the door that they never noticed had suddenly slammed shut.
It was strange; he and James had always been the best of friends. They had never hidden anything from each other, or at least not for long, and it was more than difficult for either of them to lie to each other. Or that was the way from him. Though they got over the occasional spats about small things, they always remained tighter than brothers, tighter than anyone they had ever known. But then…it had happened. They didn't speak to each other for a whole month, longer than when he had led Snape to Remus during the full moon. He received a letter on the last day of school, with additional ones that he was supposed to give to different people. Mostly, his was describing how he had enjoyed their friendship for the previous seven years, but it was time for him to grow up and enter the real world.
Lily's was the most distinct and different out of all of them. He remembered that she had burnt it in her anger, but he had secretly copied it before she did this. It was so horrible that he had practically memorized it.
Dear Lily,
I have found that our relationship of the past six months has been quite amazing, but it is not something that will last. So formally, I, James Potter, would like to end our relationship and friendship. We are not two people that were meant for each other; we are far too different. I had never expected that we would last and this is something I have done for the both of us.
Please accept this fact without too much grief.
Sincerely,
James Potter
He remembered how her anger had caused waves of uncontrollable magic seemed to come off her, causing many students to disappear within a few moments. And somehow, she accepted the letter without any grief, or so he thought, until he had visited her in the summer to find that she was in a complete depression. How James could have done something to a person like Lily was beyond him. As far as he knew, Lily was the one person that could make his life complete, the one person that he might find to live for, as he once told him. And he knew that James hadn't been lying then; one couldn't just fake love and infatuation for three whole years. She had gotten over his ex-best friend a long time ago, but he knew from being somewhat close to her for seven years that she would always feel something toward James.
Wherever she was now, whatever she was doing now, however she was dealing with the pain in her heart, his own broken heart reached out to her.
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