A/N: aha .. umm .. it`s kinda bad. er .. -_-; I could've made it better – but I didn't know how . soo .. er. . give it a try, yea ? xP it`s a lucius/lily ficcie . yeapp .. I`m kinda weird.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize. How unfortunate. Okieee dokes .. it all belongs to J.K. Rowling.
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.
He was rather arrogant. She was a bit too proud. He liked to brag too much and she could hardly stand people like that. But she did.
It was rather stranger, him being on the verge of leaving childhood behind. And she, just barely starting to grow up. He taught her much: politics, survival of the fittest, and the darkness of their two worlds. She taught him even more, about fairness and equality, idealistic fairytales, and love conquering all.
Of course, he thought this was all rubbish. Love, who needs it? And she thought he was rather cynical. But they got along. Once upon a time, is how it starts.
He would tell her, with a superior voice: Someday, Evans, you'll understand.
And she would reply, mocking him: Someday, Malfoy, I'll never understand.
Her words never made sense. He never tried to make sense of them. He didn't need to.
It was the winter of '72. Girl befriended Boy. And it wasn't perfect. It didn't have to be.
It was raining. And it was cold. They sat in the hallway, one with a smile and the other letting out peals of laughter.
He liked making her laugh, though he would never admit it. She liked talking to him, though no one could ever know.
"I hate not being able to talk to you in public." She sighed.
"I know." He spoke rather conceitedly. She became agitated.
"Well, you're supposed to say 'me too' you jerk."
"I don't need to." He had always been eloquent.
"I guess not."
They were two worlds apart, with a world in common.
It was after curfew. The Quidditch game had been well over for hours now. He was still in a foul mood. She had come searching for him.
They sat at the base of the tree, on opposite sides of the trunk.
He faced the Forbidden Forest, still angry about losing the game. She sat, facing the sunset, just speaking softly to him.
"You know … I hate – "
"—not being able to talk to me in public. I know already." He rolled his eyes, as if exasperated with her.
But she knew better.
From the other side of the tree, he smiled. Just a little.
With ambition comes corruption. But sometimes, there's purity.
"It sounds kind of boring, don't you think?" She scrunched up her nose in distaste.
"I have a duty." He carelessly picked at a piece of grass.
And it did sound boring, becoming a "Lord" or whatever it was. He knew it too. But he had a duty.
"Don't you have any ambitions, Malfoy?"
"Don't you, Evans?" he mirrored.
"I asked you first."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"What? I'm only twelve."
"You're already twelve."
And they were silent. Just for a moment.
"Don't you want a perfect family? Marry a perfect girl?" He stared at her indifferently. And he fiercely spoke.
"There is no perfect family. Definitely no perfect girl. And no such thing as perfect." She flinched at his tone.
"You're too negative, Malfoy." She turned away from him.
"And you're too naïve." She 'hmph`ed' at this.
"Well, you need to stop being so realistic."
"Evans," he said gently, and very much unlike him, "you need to stop being so idealistic."
She was realistic. Sometimes. And he was idealistic. Barely ever.
It was a week before the graduation ceremony. She only had one more week to spend with him.
"Are all Slytherin's like you?" Curiosity gains knowledge.
"What do you mean like me?" The Malfoy drawl.
"Bad, but not all bad. Sometimes good, but not that good." Ambiguity.
"You know, Evans, for every time I have to decode your words –"
"—you deserve a galleon and –" Knew each other so well …
"—I would be an even richer man." … that completing each other's sentences was too easy.
She rolled her eyes at this.
"Well?" She sprinkled grass on his shoe.
"Well, what?" He indifferently shook his foot and let it all slide off.
"You know, how Slytherin's are bad but not all that –"
"Evans, not everything is black and white. If it were, then life would be too easy. No, everything is gray. Your Gryffindor gold and the Slytherin green … they aren't true color symbols."
She stared at him with an odd expression. He looked away.
"It all eventually fades."
"Into what?" her chin was propped up with both her hands, elbows dug into the grass. Her eyes were now focused on him. He turned his head back to her, and her eyes stared intently into his.
"Grey. Many shades of grey."
Her mouth formed an 'o' and she let out a whispered, "Oh."
Hold on to memories. Never let them go. It'll hurt. But you'll be okay, as okay as you can become.
Graduation ceremony. Everyone is at the after-party. Except them. They stand in the empty hallway, facing each other. The sun is setting, and everything is quiet.
"I guess this is it." Her lips trembled. She bit her lower lip.
He shrugged. "Perhaps."
"We'll never, never, never get to talk anymore." She stared at the tiles on the floor. Never is an awfully long time.
"You never know." He hoped that she wouldn't start crying. No such luck.
"But I do know." Tears were falling rapidly. "I know that we're forever in two different worlds. I know that you'll always be on the other side of the battlefield. I know that you'll marry the perfect girl with beautiful blond hair and blue eyes. I know that we'll never speak again. And I know that … I know …"
She could have listed so many more reasons. But she didn't need to because he knew too.
He said something funny then. She can't remember what it is now, but it had her bubbling with laughter.
He had always liked making her laugh. He would never admit it though. And she had always liked talking to him.
She wished people could know.
Sunset. She hands him a picture. Dusk. A kiss on the cheek. Goodbye. Standing alone. Walking away. He looks back once. She looks back twice. He's a bit more idealistic, but just a bit. She's become a little more realistic. Impact. All good things must come to an end.
Years later. Daily Prophet. Headline news. "James Potter and Lily (Evans) Potter found dead … Voldemort suspected to be murderer … Deatheaters…"
He would have a bit of remorse in his heart, if he were still capable of feeling. He would have cried a little, maybe just a tear, if he knew how.
There's a picture hidden in a book. He takes it out. There, the two of them, captured in a moving picture. It's sunset. He's smirking. She has a hand grasped around his wrist. Hold on to memories. Never let them go.
He would throw away the picture. But he doesn't want to.
Once upon a time is how it starts. They had been two worlds apart .. It wasn't perfect, it didn't have to be.
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.