Word Count: 2414
The mist that only comes after the rain has fallen clings to her every move, smelling faintly of spring. She stares, apparently transfixed, a lone figure in the courtyard. They are exquisite now, they are. Last night, they hadn't been, but out here, transformed, they are quite lovely, those little pale pink hearts scattered on the concrete, the paper material soaked through and through. It is quite the pretty picture, something to smile at in wonderment, a puzzle that no one knows about. For how have those pieces of paper gotten to be where they are, right by the edge of a tower? Only a few scattered girls know, but they won't have told the rest yet.
He watches, hands tucked into deep pockets, laughing eyes now somber. He watches as she scuffs her feet against a heart, only to find that it can not and will not move. He watches as she smiled suddenly, and knows that she is laughing inside at the coincidences life had in store for everyone. He also watches with a pang in his heart, because he alone knows that she will never take him seriously, just like the way she is playing with the hearts. She is playing with his own heart, toying with it and luring him in. He knows it, but can't resist his angel, the only love of his life there will ever be. Why did he send her such an expensive gift?
He isn't sure. Maybe he just wanted to end his pain, maybe he just wanted to let her know how he felt before they parted ways and went on to different professions for the rest of their lives. Graduation was so near…
She sighs, remembering the events of last night. Events that caused her to hurl the basket of hearts over the windowsill, causing her to watch as they fluttered down and disappeared into the gloom. Yes, the events of last night are burned into her memory.
She and the girls had been enjoying a slumber party of sorts in their lovely dorm room, snacking on chocolates and whispering about gossip, the way most teenaged girls do and have done over the course of the last century or so. They'd been having a lovely bit of time until an owl had flown by, tapping on the window anxiously. In their merriment and laughter, no one noticed the owl until little Alice had pointed it out, eyes dancing with curiosity. All of their partying stopped momentarily as she, with a hint of dread sparking in the back of her mind, pulled open the window.
The owl itself was quite handsome and could be seen as arrogant, much like its owner. He swooped in and deposited a basket upon <I>her</I> bed before swooping out again and soaring to the other side of the tower, where he waited, ever hopeful. She had picked up the basket and looked inside, the other seventh years crowding around for a hopeful look. Nestled atop a bed of paper hearts was a card and a golden necklace. Always the neat one, she'd carefully opened the card, half expecting her action to trigger fireworks or a blazing message. Instead, there is only a quote, a quote she recognized as belonging to Ralph Waldo Emerson. But something was different; James had altered it.
<I>"The only gift of love is a portion of thyself, so here is my heart."</I>
She looked past the card at the paper hearts, so carefully cut out into their faded pink shapes. It was impossible to do it with a charm, so he must have done it by hand. Had he recruited his fellow friends into it? And how did he know that she loved Emerson's poetry, and always had? But of course he did; he knew everything about her without her having to say a single word. That was the way things worked with their quasi-relationship. She said nothing, he knew everything. All of Hogwarts knew it, too.
It really was a pity that she didn't love him in the slightest, not even fancied once or twice. He would have made a wonderful sort of boyfriend, what with all the romantically comedic errors he'd made in an effort to court her. Alas, she felt nothing for him. It really was all a sort of game to her, rejecting him in the most eloquent way, in an effort to make the others roar with laughter. Surely it was a game to him too? It couldn't be anything serious, could it?
Well, this was the first gesture of his that had been truly romantic, though it once again uncovered another little known fact about Lily Evans: Head Girl. As such, it deserved something short, but sweet in return. Simple; she'd always gone for big and flashy before. What would do? She had looked around for an answer, blankly observing that the other girls had eager anticipation written all over their faces. At last, her eye had caught upon the window from which the owl had come in. It was still open - Alice had forgotten to latch it closed. So she had smiled as she crossed the room, all eyes upon her. Before turning the basket upside down and hurling the paper hearts, she paused for a bit, then thoughtfully removed the card and the golden necklace. They were too precious to throw outside to the elements; she'd return them in person to their owner, and quietly too. Nobody knew she had removed them, not until the next morning anyway. And with that quick gesture, the Gryffindor tipped the wicker container over and stuck her head out the window, watching the hearts swirl and flutter in the wind as gravity pulled them down. Then they disappeared out of sight, the seventh year dormitory being much too high up to see the ground in the darkness of midnight.
He still waited on the other side, watching and wondering. But he would not get his answer till morning, when he would look down and see specks of pink upon the ground. That's what he always did: he watched.
It was Remus's advice.
After she pulled her head in and locked up the window, she turned and looked back, quietly defiant. Her hair was damp, the drizzle having still caught her a bit when she'd looked out. It was quiet for a moment, but then chatter resumed, the volume of their girlish voices rising as they start a pillow fight. She was alone by the window, standing somber and elegant with no pillow in hand. She caught Alice's eye amid the hubbub, and Alice nodded faintly, her stamp of approval. So she herself smiled, assured that she'd done the right thing.
But inside, her heart began to cry, the stirrings of an epiphany coming to her.
She pushed them away.
Yet here she is, still standing and staring. She hasn't been able to sleep all night, her thoughts keeping her up. Is it still a game to the other player? Does he really not like her? Is it all just harmless flirtation? But of course. They are toying with each other, the way they've always done since second year. But here they are, next to last week of term, and he's initiated the endings of their Game, the show that only the two Heads of the school can put on, a teasing, seemingly lighthearted performance where they are the stars. This is the cumulative finale, the moment when something deep and personal is thrown out, the last challenge of the season.
It is early morning, the sunrise mere minutes before. She's risen early, still preoccupied with her superficial decision, though she knows not why. Since the rain stopped right before dawn, she shruged on a robe and walked down to the common room and out to the courtyard, curious in spite of herself with the fate of the carefully handmade hearts. She starts to regret what she has done, then shrugs and pushes the thoughts away. It does no good, what is done is done; isn't that what Aunt Myrielle has always told her?
"They're not going to move, you know." A deep, painfully amused voice breaks into her thoughts, startling her. She turns, inadvertently stepping upon that pale pink perfection known as a heart that currently litters the grounds of Hogwarts. Her hair whips around, and of course his mouth was open when he stepped out from the shadows.
"I'm sorry." Her eyes meet his, and her breath catches in her throat. In that wordless look, she has told him that she is sorry for more than just getting her vividly red and perpetually flyaway hair stuck in his mouth. She is sorry for tossing the hearts out the window, a callous gesture that she sees now for what it really was - an example of her fear. That is the moment when she sees everything thrown into sharp relief. Her heart might be drawn to Potter's like the lodestone to the North Pole, but she can not say yes. She is too afraid to say yes, and perhaps she always will be. So as she gazes up at the tall figure of the boy, her "I'm sorry" rings empty in both of their hearts, resounding faintly over and over again. She turns to go, afraid to cause any more pain then she already has.
Because in that one wordless glance, he has told her everything about how he really feels. He's loved her, always. Perhaps it started out as a game, a bet, but now, it is so much more. It deepened into liking her, a small crush that was easy to hide as the Game intensified. But then it progressed to real, deep, and true love, and all of those empty taunts and proclamations of love suddenly take on a whole new meaning. It is, and has always been, his James Potter to her Lily Evans.
Her epiphany comes out. This time, she lets it come.
She turns to go, her pathetic excuse ringing in her ears. As she slides out of his casual embrace, he catches her elbow and spins her back around so that she faces him again, mildly confused. "I…I can't. You know that." She is afraid of commitment; always has been. James might finally be ready for a long relationship, but she is still a little girl inside, childishly cherishing a fear she's had for so long. How ironic that it is he who matured faster, after all those times she yelled at him.
His voice is deep and comforting as he looks down at the petite, trembling girl. "We could try." He slips off his own cloak and wraps it around her, receiving a quiet word of thanks from the other.
She bites her lip, not realizing how cute it looks to him. "I'm afraid," she finally confesses, looking up at him again. "It would change everything." Ah. That lies at the heart of the problem. She hates telling people she is something they think she is not, which is why she's always gone along with the "Goody Goody Two Shoes" image that they've had of her since the first day of the first year at Hogwarts, the "Only girl to ever refuse James Potter" image that they've had from the third day of second year. Her life has always been about the images others have of her, how others perceive her. It shouldn't be that way.
"Sometimes change is good, is it not?" She is crying, he notices. At least she's stopped shivering. He pulls her in closer, encircling her and protecting her from the elements. There is no one to see this curiously tender moment, because no one else is awake. It is just them in their own private castle. It is always just them. Lily simply hasn't seen that yet.
Tears blur her vision as her mind and her heart go to war within her, leaving her confused and uncertain. Her gaze is drawn downward as she continues to sniffle quietly. The hearts are still there, the pink stark against the gloom of the colour grey. Suddenly, she pulls out the card from her pocket and unfolds it, rereading his short attempt at something romantically poetic. Then she looks back at him, standing right there, stoic and patient, a half smile upon his lips. As if from a dream, he reaches past her and extracts something else from the pocket of her favorite blue robe - the necklace.
Last night, she hadn't examined it much, only seeing a thin golden chain. But now, as he dangles it from his black gloved fingers, she stares, transfixed by this as well. Embedded in a gold heart is a stone she recognizes fondly, another favorite of hers: kunzite. Its "pale pink to lilac" color shimmers in the early morning sun, matching the hearts upon the ground color for color. Her breath catches again and she raises her eyes to meet his - she knows how much a gem of that most vivid hue must have cost him, both in time and money. She also knows that it is a mere fraction of what it has cost him to show his devotion to her in this manner, to finally expose the true thing that has been underlying the whole time. Both were once afraid, but now one is no longer. The finale is realized, just not in a way he expected. He is close, so close.
Spinning her slowly, he lifts her thick hair silently as he slips the chain around her graceful neck, latching the clasp together without any bit of fumbling. Her pale, thin hand immediately goes to grasp and cover that golden charm, the finality of what he is doing settling slowly in her mind. But she can't resist him, never has been able to. That is why their little game has continued, has expanded. They are flirting with each other on two levels, and they always have been, even if it is an unconscious act on her part.
His voice reverberates again, leaving her feeling all tingly inside. He asks the inevitable question, the question that has always followed any of his gestures, no matter how cheesy. She braces herself for what is coming, preparing to overcome her initial choice. Because once again, he leaves it up to her. She knows that if she says no, he will bow his head and accede to her request, only to persist until she has been won over. But if she were to say yes…she never has dwelled greatly on what the consequences of her agreement might be.
"Lily, will you go out with me?"
She smiles softly, preparing herself for an answer that will forever change her life. As she raises her eyes to his, she reaches out with a bare hand for his gloved one, laying her small fingers over his large ones. The game is over at last, and she knows the moment that particular realization has settled over her, a mantle of truth and protection. So she answers his query in the best way possible, the way she has always answered his letters during the summer before giving her own letters to her owl. It is a way that, once he has comprehended it, will make a wide smile appear on his face in delight.
She stands upon tiptoe and tilts her head up, sealing her fate with a kiss.