Disclaimer: here's to JK Rowling.
A/N: This is just a story that's been floating around in my head for a bit. I love it. It'll be short, probably 2 or 3 chapters. I hope you can feel the depth. Tell me what you think! Happy New Year!
31 December. 2006. Abarraine.
Destruction of the Intangible
"It's tearing her apart, James. Can't you see? Don't you even know her anymore? She'd never hurt you. Ever. It must have been a set up-- it just has to be. Why would she meddle with something so pure and fucking right, James!" Sirius ranted, pacing up and down the dorm floor. The person in question, James Potter, was sitting moodily on the window seat, glaring at the ominous clouds, cursing their very existence in his woeful life.
It had all come apart, without a known catalyst. James racked his brain endlessly for a trigger to this destructive predicament. He couldn't even begin to align the circumstances that had brought about his sure demise. All he knew at that moment was pain. Pure tragic agony. Heart-ripping torture. His emotional status was deranged with an inconceivable amount of distress. His grieving was silent with sudden bursts of rage. He was a pitiful mess.
He never saw it coming. The way she looked into his eyes never changed, her words forever caressed his heart, he never heard any sort of stiffness or sarcasm in them; they were full of depth, and damn, they were pure. They were his; she was his. Their touches were their own, how she could send shivers up his spine by only pressing her fingertips on his arm. Her dainty hands fit perfect in his own rough, large ones. The way she ran her hands through his hair as they passionately kissed—
"Damn Prongs. She's getting hell out there. People aren't kind. You're a Potter… your prestige is so bleeding high that people are without a doubt taking your side! James. She's not done a thing wrong, can't you see! It's Lily bleeding Evans we're fucking talking about!"
James only glared at the clouds harder, trying to fight that bubble of hope rising in his chest by Sirius' persistent pleas to Lily's innocence. She was guilty. She'd done her deed. It was easier for him to think this. It made his life easier; it made giving her up easier.
He would never have been able to marry her. His lineage depended on his faithful vigilance and selflessness when picking a bride. The only quota was that she absolutely had to be a pureblood. Even the most beautiful and wisest woman would corrupt the Potter line if she was not a pureblood.
He'd already cursed and fought with his parents to inches of his life while he was dating Lily. His anger had enveloped him into a hate for his life and family that only Lily could calm. She'd understood his predicament. And she had kissed him.
She was always stronger than him. He knew she could live without him, she had for so long, but he'd surely be lost without her. It was unexplainable how much her little being brightened his life and gave him new refined hope.
Lily had a difficult past. Her mother had died of a freak blood clot when Lily was eight, casting Lily into an early state of maturity. After her mother's death her father remained incapacitated with grief sending Lily and her older sister, Petunia, to make up for his inability to take care of them. They had gone to the grocery store, made the meals, and laundered the clothes. They did many things mere children should never have to think about doing.
Their father was an emotional man, a published writer and esteemed editor for the London Times. His words were witty and grand, but he fell into a rut when his beloved wife died. His job slipped away as he had no inclination to write and their monthly bills piled up. They lived on scant amounts of food and eventually had to sell the car and move out of their generous townhouse.
It wasn't until their father met another woman that their life turned for the better. She brought a new confidence to their pathetic existence. She cooked wonderfully and ignited a flame in their father that brought all his angst into bestseller novels. They married in a small church, Lily and Petunia, and their new stepsister, Ebony, as merry flower girls.
Two and a half years after their mother's death, life was finally cheerful again. The family was whole and busy with daily life. They'd moved into the suburb and gotten a dog, Joules.
Then Lily learned she was a witch. And life slowly began to decay.
"I don't understand how you can fucking believe Aezlin Lucic, Hogwarts' own bona fide whore, but not your own girlfriend? God James. You bleeding hypocrite!"
"Sirius, get out."
"What?" Sirius stopped mid-rant and stared, stunned at his best friend. James hadn't moved from his perch, but his jaw muscle was twitching showing he was trying to restrain his anger. Sirius couldn't believe what he was witnessing: James Potter was giving up.
He was giving up on the sweetest, grandest thing in his entire life. Maybe it wasn't obvious to James at that moment, but to Sirius and Brongea, Topher and Phaden, Lily's best friends, Lily and James had grasped the quintessence of what humans desire most in the world. Something so intangible and surrealistic was somehow grasped by the pair.
True undeniable love.
Their love wasn't something to be reckoned with. It was superlative, magnificent, and simple. It was like a truth in a forest of lies. It was a constant; from the very beginning it never wavered.
The fact their love was now faltering stunned many. It was as though the sky was crashing down. Everyone noticed the pain embedded in both. James was reserved, as his nature never intended. He sat in solitude and ignored even his closest friends. His eyes were glazed over as though he was walking in a dream, reliving events that were burned into his being. He snapped at people for the lightest misdemeanor. His hair was ragged, his eyes were shadowed with bags, showing the world he had not slept. His face was rough with unshaven hair. And the little he did eat was forced down his throat by viciously loyal friends.
But he wasn't the worst.
James didn't have people barbarically firing hexes in his direction.
James didn't hear scornful, callous, and cold-hearted words hissed in his direction at every corner.
James wasn't tripped, shoved, and scratch at with rage from those devoted to James' retribution.
And James didn't find howlers at breakfast demeaning his character to that of a whorish, invalid mudblood.
No. James did not have the bulk of Hogwarts' populace out for his death and destruction.
Lily's sleep was plagued with feelings of uselessness, loss, and fear. Her steps throughout the day were trepidatious. She had never feared for her life more than now. James had, without even knowing, sent all of Hogwarts on her. It was a game of loyalties. Be true to your blood and forever bask in fortune.
It wasn't the first time Lily had felt out of place, unwanted and used. She'd grown up with a stepmother who couldn't stand to look at her. Her own mother had died, leaving her behind and her father struggled with depression after all the pain he had endured.
She'd learned to grow up on her own. Never lean on anyone for anything. She only ended up being left or hated for what she truly was; a freak.
A freak in the Muggle World.
A freak in the Wizarding World.
Regular people just didn't randomly become magical. It was unheard of.
She wasn't a cold person nor did believe the world was out to get her. She didn't figure her glass was half-empty. She merely secluded herself from the pain relationships, of any form, produced. Her father was her heart. Her sisters Petunia and Ebony detested her unnaturally abnormal presence. Her mother had loved her green eyes and red hair. Her stepmother, Meredith, had valued her usefulness in chores, but once Lily sprouted magical abilities, she became terrified of her youngest redheaded stepdaughter. She locked Lily in her room to abate her fear of what Lily could do. And Meredith never had the courage or want to look at her youngest stepdaughter again. Lily was unwanted. She just didn't fit.
Her James. It had taken him awhile to get little Lily to open up; to talk to him. He had worked with her; he won't leave her alone in the library or at lunch. He pestered her with nominal questions; what's your favorite dessert? Have you ever thought about climbing Mount Everest? Do you like to paint? Is that your true hair color? Where were you born? Have you ever been in love? What's got you so shy?
He hadn't relented and in return, she wasn't a stone, she answered his questions, but never procured a conversation. People scared her with their ability to twist the truth and without knowing so, causing more pain than her heart could handle. Already it had been ripped numerous times. She wasn't sure she had enough heart left to be torn again.
But somehow, she made herself impermeable. Cherishing as much of her remaining pride and heart as she could. She always did. She found that inner core of strength.
He told her it was over. That they were through, some things were just not meant to be after all. In fact, if she hadn't been so dependent, so set on using everyone around her, if she hadn't used her atrocious ability of persuasion and gullibility to play puppet master, they may actually have had a chance.
He told her she didn't deserve a thing she had. That he had taken pity on her from the start, she was a hopelessly submissive girl with hardly a personality. He didn't understand what he had seen in her. Why he had spent so much time protecting her and defending her. He'd wasted precious time. His valued breath.
He neglected how over the time she'd spent with James, she'd opened up, become an extraordinarily beautiful girl with passion and spirit. He disregarded the part where her eyes lit up with joy instead of pain, how her voice was forever heard in conversations and that Lily Evans, was head girl and a strong, respectable personality in Hogwarts. He only spoke of what he knew would bring her the most pain; and he drug up the past.
He fucking didn't care that every word he breathed tore into her with more force and damage than any other circumstance in her past. It rivaled the pain she felt watching her mother die on the living room floor.
And yet, as James watched the love of his life crumble in his grasp, he continued on. His eyes burned with rage at the hidden purpose of his abuse. He couldn't have Lily Evans.
And if he couldn't have Lily Evans, then he damn well didn't want Lily Evans trying to get him back. Fighting for him like he knew she would. As she always had. He would be ostracized, banished from his family, his life. Was she worth it? His parents knew she wasn't, after all, she was a mudblood. He continued to defile her with his tongue, the bitter, cruel words fell from his lips like poison.
He had to hate Lily Evans, because she wasn't good enough for him.
Her eyes flooded with tears, the dam had burst with him standing there, hands on her shoulders yelling profanities in her face; she broke. The shattering of her heart would haunt the halls of Hogwarts for years to come. Her terrified emerald eyes stared powerfully back into his hazel orbs pleading with him. He ranted. The moon hid its face in fear. He raved. The wind howled through the desolate trees. She shivered. And the sky fell.
Because Lily Evans was more than good enough for James Potter.
so... what do you think?