She sat in a seat next to the window, ignoring or trying to ignore the gigglings and indignant voices raised in pretend anger out in the hallway. For a slight instant, she wished she could be one of those girls, carefree and happy-go-lucky, but then the thought of Serena rose to the top. Being friends with those girls would be impossible unless she first made peace with Serena and Sheila, and she had no intention of doing that. Both of those girls would use their friends mercilessly, and Lily was not the slightest bit interested in being used a second time. She therefore sat upright in her seat, back not touching the cushions behind her, almost as if she were wearing a corset and stays, staring out of the window and thinking back to that morning.
Several loud bangs on her closed door made her wake up out of a half-trance, and in a very bad mood at being startled out of her reflections, she yanked the door open.
James fell in, with Sirius on top of him. Both of them, ignoring the fact that Lily had made them land on the floor, immediately sprang up and slammed the door shut, locking it. Breathing several loud, long, and deep sighs of relief, they sank onto two seats each, only then noticing the strange looks Lily was giving them.
�What on earth?�
James nodded towards the door. Lily turned her head in that direction, and immediately, she saw Serverus� and Lucius� angry faces looming two feet away from the glass. When they saw her in there, however, they dropped their wand hands and retired down the corridor, leaving behind two boys who were about to be grilled.
Lily sat back down herself. �I have a funny feeling you two are going to explain this.� Her tone left no doubt that they would, and the boys knew it.
�Well-� James was still rather out of breath-�well, it�s not exactly our fault that the idiots would even think of putting on shoes with Dungbombs in them.�
Lily was torn between horror and amusement. �You did what?�
�Everyone on this darned train takes off their shoes during the trip, �cause it lasts so long. Well, we didn�t know that Lucius would be going to get drinks from that lady with the cart, and so, naturally, we used his shoes as a convenient place to store our Dungbombs. And he ruined a perfectly good dozen of them, too!� His voice was raised in feigned anger, and Lily couldn�t help but laugh behind the hand she held to her nose, imagining the smell of Lucius� compartment.
They finally left off laughing, though Lily kept bursting into spontaneous fits of giggles for no apparent reason at all. At about noon, Sirius stood up.
"James, I'm going to see what Longbottom's up to. He told me that Malfoy was going to try to smuggle some of the Potion ingredients from Cauldwell's store-cupboard out of Hogwarts, and we're going to see if this can be turned to our advantage. See you two later." He swung out of the compartment, leaving James and Lily behind, both of them feeling awfully embarrassed.
James knew why Sirius had gone, and so did Lily, but James wasn�t aware that Lily knew. And Lily was perfectly aware of the fact that James was under the delusion that she didn't know that Sirius had left to give James some apologizing and talking time, and she intended to keep it that way.
It was always so much fun to listen to people stumble over their words and think of the right ones to say and then embarrass themselves terribly and give the whole thing away�Lily had had an aunt that seemed to see through every lie she was given, so the only option for the guilty party was, to them, to confess, and when they had done so, the aunt would look down at them; "Oh, is that so?" Lily had been caught that way twice, and from then on, she had refrained from coming into her aunt's presence whenever she had something on her mind, innocent or not.
So now, watching James twitch in his seat, she was looking forward to this conversation, which, no doubt, would be an allowance of laughter stretching at least over the Easter holidays. She took out a book; Death on the Nile, by Agatha Christie, and curled up in her seat. She refused to look up at the hinting noises which came from the person nearest the door, preferring to let him squirm.
A quiet cough.
Lily didn't move.
A tactful cough.
Lily's eyes went from one page to the next.
Pause.
Another tactful cough.
Lily flipped the page.
Squirm from James, the removal of a foot tucked from underneath Lily.
A rather louder cough.
Turning of two more pages. Lily was finished with the expository parts of the story.
'"Yes, darling, I'm engaged!"
"So that's it! I thought you were looking particularly alive somehow."'
Several soft sneezes, almost like a kitten.
Lily moved to the bottom of page eleven.
'"I shall die if I can't marry him! I shall die! I shall die! I shall die�"'
Well, Lily thought, raising her eyebrows, that dark-headed little child was rather ridiculous! Dying if she couldn't marry a man�why, the world would go on just the same with or without marriage. It certainly did until they discovered the practice of marriage, and then the whole world just got turned upside down.
Several louder sneezes.
Page thirty-one and moving.
'"You've got to pull it off," his partner said. "The situation's critical."'
Page sixty-seven and the person in the corner was getting rather upset. He accidentally kicked Lily's trunk.
'"�because, you see, as long as it works, I shan't use that pistol�But I'm afraid-yes, afraid sometimes-it all goes red-I want to hurt her-to stick a knife into her, to put my dear little pistol close against her head and then-just press with my finger-Oh!"'
Lily sniffed. Now, really, Jackie, is that any way to act? Why, murder isn't good at all! It awards so little satisfaction. Torture lasts much longer and gives so much pleasure. And so little people can really take torture. I wonder if Serena could. I can find out, though...
James kicked her trunk again, purposely this time.
Page eighty-three, and Sirius had peeked into the compartment, and finding them both silent, he drew away. This departure was missed by neither of the inhabitants; the only difference was that James didn't know Lily had seen Sirius and Lily knew that James didn't know that she knew.
'"What are the usual motives, Monsieur Poirot?"
"Most frequent-money. That is to say, gain in its various ramifications. Then there is revenge-and love, and fear, and pure hate, and beneficence-"'
Lily felt that, personally, her strongest motives for murder at the time would be revenge and hate.
Another strong kick to Lily's trunk, accompanied by a loud cough.
Page ninety.
"I suppose-it's nerves�I just feel that-everything's unsafe all around me."
Such a rumbling noise came from the figure in the corner, Lily thought he must be suffering from several double cases of bronchitis combined.
"Erm-Lily?"
Oh, good, he finally spoke. About time, too.
"Hm?"
"Could-could I talk to you for a second?"
"You already did."
"You know what I mean."
"Prove it."
"Prove what?"
"That I know what you mean."
"Well-you usually do."
"In your perception, I understand what you mean. In the perception of others, however, we do not percieve that you percieve that we comprehend what we mean."
"Huh?"
Lily was talking very fast now, and if one combines logic with big words, a high speed of talking, and a British accent, it makes the speaker look wonderfully smart and leaves the listener with his mouth hanging open. Lily was quite aware of this, and that was exactly the reason she was doing it.
"Every different person has different perceptions, you agree?"
"Huh? Oh-yeah, right."
''It is your perception that I percieve what you mean. And since my perception is different from yours, it is quite understandable that, in my perception, your perception is totally and completely, not to say utterly, incorrect. Therefore, I do not percieve what you mean."
She thought how much like a slaughtered calf he looked, and worse, he didn�t know it. Mouth hanging open, he was still confused.
"Let's take another example. I am God. Please disprove that."
"Huh? Oh-well, you're not."
Lily rolled her eyes.
"Umm-well-well, you're not."
She was getting impatient, and when she got impatient, her tongue generally loosed itself and began saying all sorts of thing; things that she understood perfectly, and that in itself was frightening to some.
"There are two different sides to this argument; the true and the false. If one of them is wrong, the other is correct, you will agree?"
"Oh-sure-whatever."
Lily inwardly laughed outright. This was the beginning of his end. "If you percieve that I am not God, then that is simply your perception. Your task is to prove that your perception is correct, and, technically, that is impossible. But now, if I decide to tell you that I am God because you cannot prove that I am not, what would you have to say?"
"That you're lying. But you're not God."
"But that is simply your perception. And your perception, may I take the liberty of stating, is often incorrect, seeing that perception is based on the senses. And the predominant sense is sight, upon which all other senses are based. Now, if your sight were taken away, then all of your other perceptions would be false, agreed?"
"Well-sort of, yeah."
She didn't miss a beat. "And, since you cannot prove that your sense of sight is with you at this very moment in time, all of your other perceptions are false. And if all of your other perceptions are untrue, then your perception of my perception is also false, which leaves my perception to be true, since we agreed farther back that if one perception is true, the other is automatically false, and vice versa. Now, since I have proved your perception to be false, my perception is the correct one. Do you understand?"
His mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish.
"No."
"The conclusion being, after lengthy study of the subjects, that since my perception is the correct perception and that yours is the incorrect perception, that I am God. Any arguments?"
He was obviously beaten. "No."
Lily smirked. This was so darned easy, and so much fun!
Sirius then entered the compartment. "Well, are you two talking again?"
James nodded.
"James, for heaven's sake, shut you mouth!"
He did so, quickly. "We're not talking. She is."
Sirius was confused. "Huh?"
"I have no idea what happened. She started to talk, and by the time she finished, I was convinced that she was God."
Sirius shot a knowing glance.
"Not like that. Logically, I mean. She can prove to you, in very long and confusing logical statements, that she is God, and I can't disprove it. Wait a minute there-" he turned to Lily-"prove that you are God!"
She shrugged. "I don't need to. I am perfectly convinced of that myself, and if I am convinced, there is no need to convince myself further. But the only way something is disproved is if a person has a strong enough disbelief in it to prove otherwise, and seeing that you don't have that, since you can't even argue right, you must obviously believe that I am God. Discussion ended."
Sirius laughed. He laughed so long and hard Lily almost had to clap her hands over his ears. When he finally stopped, Lily couldn�t have been more grateful.
"James, she's really something. And she's an enemy I wouldn�t like to have."
James frowned. "You really believe that you are God?"
"Hah!" Lily tossed her head affectedly. "I am not God any more than you are a permanent and foul-weather friend."
Sirius shook his head. "James, she has a point."
James looked up at Sirius, as if begging him to help him, and to his annoyance, Sirius did just the opposite.
"I'm leaving again, and I don't want pieces of you two blasted all over the floor when I come back. Lily, the wand stays in the trunk." Grinning in response to a scowling James, Sirius left, graciously refraining from slamming the compartment door.
James grimaced at the closed door, and then, as if gathering strength, he squared his shoulders and slipped off of his seat, coming to rest at about six inches away from Lily, who had gone back to Death on the Nile. The wronged ex-fianc�e was getting rather stormy after having several (four) double gins, and Lily was enjoying the confrontation.
'Jacqueline swung round in her chair and glared at Simon.
"You damned fool," she said thickly, "do you think you can treat me as you have done and get away with it?"'
"Lily?"
"Mmm?"
"Umm-would you put that book away for a minute?"
Lily, in a granting mood, especially since she had just wiped the floor with James in their last discussion, slipped a candy wrapper inside the pages as a substitute for a bookmark and placed it on the seat next to her. "Yes?"
"I've wanted to talk to you for a while."
"Go on."
"I told you what I wanted to speak to you about on the Quidditch field this morning, didn't I?"
"You did."
"Well-I just wanted to say-maybe I was a bit wrong."
Lily was more than a speck incredulous. "Maybe? A bit?"
"Well, then I was all wrong."
Lily nodded. "I like correctness. Please proceed."
He was plainly exerting a great bit of self-control to smooth over her tartness, and unwillingly, Lily admired him for that.
"Lily, I wish we could be like we were at the beginning of our first year. I really do. I've missed-well, being your friend and I haven't much enjoyed fighting with you."
"You've certainly given a good enough impression of it up till now."
"I'm sorry."
"So 'I'm sorry' makes it all better now?"
"It can help. But Lily, won't you at least try me, and see how this comes out?"
She stared at him, as if divining his thoughts, and she had pushed back the secret door to his most private present fear. "And what about Serena? What'll she do to you if she finds we're friendly again?"
He waved his hand, though Lily could tell it cost him an effort. "I don't care about her. I never have and never will."
"That's direct proof that you don�t mean a dust molecule of this. Oh, don't give yourself airs. I know you care for her and I know you always will. And don't think it hurts me to say it; I won't have you acting as if you were making me break my heart, which you're not."
He took a glance at her set, composed face, and read something in that countenance that no other person could possibly have divined: self-accusation, and one thing to be said to his credit was that he tried his hardest to lock up that attitude in the deepest vault he could find, with the intention to keep it there permanently. "Lily, right now that doesn't matter. I know you've been terribly unhappy at times, and-well-I know I've been the cause."
"The amount you know is certainly frightening. Have you been spying on me?"
"Not really."
"What does that mean-not really?"
"Sirius has. But that's beside the point. I don't want to fight with you and I don�t-"
"James, since Sirius left the room, you've used the word 'I' eighteen times. Will you get away from yourself as a topic?"
"All right then. You haven't been happy, and at your age, you shouldn't know a thing of hardships and hate-and you're learning about them all too soon. Please."
Lily, eyes shaded by dark, thick, bristly eyelashes, glanced down and saw the serious, calm, unruffled figure on the floor. Untouched, or seemingly so, by her harsh words, he seemed almost surreal, since all of the people she knew would have flared up if she had thrown that large a torch upon them.
"All right. But you're to stop nagging me about the way I look."
He stood up and bowed, in unconscious imitation of a dancing master. "With pleasure." His eye narrowed suddenly as he saw the faintest trace of pink appear under Lily's eyelids, and he instantly had gathered her in a comforting hug. "Please don't cry-never mind. Cry if you want to-it's the holding back of tears that makes people so terribly hard. Cry if you want to."
Relief flooding her at his last words, she let the indignation, sorrow, hurt, anger, disdain, and pain of the last year flow onto his shoulder, grateful that she need not hold her tears back.
Then, remembering herself, she pulled away, dried her tears hastily, and smiled weakly.
�I�m dreadfully sorry. I didn�t mean to throw myself at your head.�
He grinned. �You didn�t. I hugged you then. But if anything of this gets back to Serena, you might just as well have.�
Lily frowned. �You mean you�re framing me?�
�No! You�ve had enough of that, haven�t you. Don�t answer that one. But anyway, I know enough of Serena to know that she�s the kind that can get mighty jealous. And you don�t want to get caught in her wrath, and frankly, neither do I.�
�Coward.�
�Well, I�m not exactly ashamed to admit it. There are few people in this world like Serena, and Serena�s beautiful to boot. She�s quite understanding and kind and sweet, but she can get terribly angry. And when she does, you don�t want to face her alone.�
Lily sniffed again, though James didn�t notice that it was at his description of Serena. �Like I said, you�re a coward. I�ve faced her before, and she�s not all that frightening. But,� she added, clearly wishing to get off of the subject of Serena, �I am sorry about that. I needn�t have done that-oh, but goodness knows I needed that hug. Do you know, Eva�s been the only friend I�ve had that�s stuck by me all through this year and last? I don�t remember us ever fighting. And you and your friends used to find pleasure in spiting me.�
He wrinkled his nose. �Lily, I�m none too proud of that, and I wish, dearly wish I hadn�t. Even if you do have a temper, you�re about as good a friend as anyone could hope for.�
�Pity you didn�t notice that till now.�
�I know.�
�James, what happened to you? You used to-well-to flare at every hint of a mean thing I said, and now-well, now you�re kind of a rag doll that I�m taking my anger out on.�
�I decided that you need a punching bag. Go ahead, use me as one; I think I deserve whatever pain you can inflict.�
Regaining some of her old amused look, Lily flicked a lock of hair behind her ear lazily. �I can inflict much more than you could ever dream. That is not a wise offer to make.�
�Well, do you want me to take it back?�
Before Lily could respond, the compartment door had slid open, and Sirius was lounging in the doorway
�Oh, good, you two�re talking again. James, next part. Don�t be bashful; you told me you�d do this last night.�
James looked so nonplussed that Sirius and Lily started to laugh.
�James, idiot, offer her the engagement ring!�
Lily�s nostrils flared a bit in disgust, and James glared murder at Sirius. �Sirius, I never said any such thing, and if you know what�s good for you, shut your trap!�
Giving in, grinning and sliding casually into a seat, Sirius shook his head. �But James, you had the diamond so nicely cut, and now you�re refusing to-�
�Sirius, I said watch it.�
And behind James, Lily was regaining her seat with raised eyebrows. The boys thought she was disgusted, but what she was really thinking was: �If any fianc� of mine tries to give me a traditional diamond and gold ring, he�s going to get socked. I�m getting my black pearl in a silver setting or he can check me off of that future family tree.�
They arrived at King�s Cross while it was still light outside, and for the first time in forever, it seemed, Lily had people help her to carry her trunk down. She could actually say goodbye to her friends with a hug, and she was so grateful for that. Walking out of the barrier with Eva next to her, she was greeted with strangling hugs from her parents and cold glares from Petunia, who, once again, had been threatened into coming.
Eva, unaccustomed to Muggle transportation, was nervous and fidgety about getting into a car, and she was even more astonished when the car didn�t transport them instantly to their home.
However, she was slowly reconciling herself to the fact that Muggles were a bit slower in regards to transportation, and she and Lily were soon chatting excitedly about their planned vacation.
When Petunia had seen Eva, she had backed away in fear, and now, when she was sitting next to her in the car-well, Petunia was plainly terrified. When the car finally came to a rest in front of the two-story brick building, Petunia was the first to spring out of the car and race into the house.
When Lily and Eva did finally get their trunks inside, they were astonished, Lily most of all, at the unnatural cleanliness of the house. And when they passed by Petunia�s usually terribly messy room, if Lily had been the fainting type, she would have fainted.
The walls were white and almost blinding, they were so clean, the bed made in hospital corners and covered with perfectly arranged pillows, not a speck of dirt on the new white carpet, and the occasional hanging plant in the corner. There was a pink-and-white rug on the floor, which Lily recognized as one that had been in her room earlier. And several paintings on the walls, paintings that were the height of blandness, or so Lily thought. They had pink flowers in bowls and in gardens, and there was a white vanity table in the corner, the top clean and white, the bottom covered in pale pink ruffles.
Lily finally got past Petunia�s room and got to her own, where she and Eva dumped their things. It suddenly struck her how odd and poor her own home must look, after Eva�s stately mansion, but if Eva was at all displeased with her surroundings, she didn�t show it.
The next day, the two woke up early. Eva had Lily�s bed, and Lily had a mattress on the floor. Eva, not used to twin mattresses, had rolled off, right onto Lily, and they were both sore and bruised.
However, in about two seconds, they were up again, Lily having remembered that Eva had a stack of Filibuster�s Wet-Start, No-Heat fireworks in her trunk. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she and Eva crept over to Petunia�s room, the sound of her snoring coming from within.
Lily, quiet as a breath of wind in mid-afternoon, slipped inside the door, and, knowing Petunia far too well, she simply set two crackers right next to Petunia�s bed slippers. Then, again, noiselessly she crept back out after setting the alarm Petunia had on her white nightstand to go off any minute. It did, too; a shrill, nasty, dinging sound that Lily felt was most eardrum-murdering.
Silently giggling, the girls watched Petunia jump up in bed and, yawning, fling her feet over the side. She looked down, and, almost instantly, let out a shriek more piercing than the sound of her clock had been.
She had spotted the fireworks. Leaping out of bed, still screaming, Petunia ran for the plain white pitcher of water she kept nearby to water her plants, and, dashing back, she dumped the contents all over the fireworks, intending to make them unusable and to put out any hidden trace of a fuse that would set the crackers off.
But not for nothing had they been called Wet-Start firecrackers. Lily and Eva were delighted to see that they lived up to their name. The instant Petunia had soaked the floor with her plant water, the crackers had gone off.
It was a beautiful sight. Blue and green sparks issuing from one, red and orange from the other, and the nice popping sound that went with any Filibuster product. The room, so pleasantly white before, was scorched in some places, where the sparks struck, and it was no longer white and cafeteria-like. When the firecrackers had finally finished, which did take some time, Petunia was still trying madly to get green sparks out of her hair and off of her bed, and when she saw the damage done to her room, she let out an earsplitting wail.
Lily and Eva got back to their room as fast as they could, trying to escape that inhuman sound that penetrated their ears and made them wish for earplugs. Luckily, however, the noise didn�t prevent the large messenger owl from practically making a crack in the window with his beak. Quickly, for fear of more damage to the house, Lily flung the window open. The owl dropped two envelopes and swirled out immediately, not waiting to even take a drink of water from Alisande�s tray.
Lily dashed over to the bed, where the two letters had landed. Picking them up, she read the addresses aloud.
�From Vanessa to Eva. Here.� She tossed the letter over to her friend and turned the next over. �To Lily. I know this writing.� She ripped the envelope open and unfolded a long sheet of parchment; actually, two long sheets.
Lily, I know you were probably very exhausted and sick of everything on the train, and I�m not expecting you to be a saint to me afterwards. Sirius told me I should write this: that when girls are upset, they don�t know who they�re confessing to, just so long as they�re doing it. Sock him, not me. It wasn�t my idea. Anyway, you�re perfectly entitled to be mean to me; it must be terrible for you: the person you�ve been fighting with be the one to hear you break down. I don�t hate you; not anymore.
Come to that, I think I never did. I don�t know why I was fighting with you; and I understand completely that I was being quite a-well, I�ll not say what you have the right to call me. You�d never attack anyone, now like I thought you did, and I�m sorry for suspecting you. Sorry for accusing you and sorry for everything else, sorry for the continual cold shoulders and a terrible year.
I want you to know that you�ll always be one of my very best friends no matter what, and even if you decide to hate me, I�ll still hold you in the highest respect, because I deserve your hate. I know you may think me an awful fool for writing this, and perhaps I am, but I wanted you to know this.
This is getting terribly long, and you're probably thinking, "Good Lord, what kind of an idiot would keep on repeating himself?" The reason for that is that I desperately want you to know how sorry I am. Eva told me you've been having one hell of a year, and that's it's all my fault. I'm not disputing that at all, because, for one thing, when it comes to me, I know the truth when I hear it, even if I don't usually acknowledge it. And now I am, and I wish I didn't have to. That is, I wish I hadn't put myself in the position where I had to say this. Anyway, it's said, or rather written, that I've been an idiot, which you've probably already characterized me as. I don't blame you one bit.
Still, I want to ask you if you can find it in one part of your heart to forgive me. You don't really strike me as one of the most forgiving people-that wasn't meant as an offense-so I should hold your forgiveness even higher than if I was in this situation with someone else. Please. This is the most eloquent letter I've ever written or hope to write, ever, and the strange thing is that, so far, this is my first version. Almost like I could say the same thing to your face if I wasn't so terribly shy of apologizing to a person. It's so much easier to do it in a letter. That's a good piece of advice, if you ever have to say you're sorry. Just thought I'd mention that.
I'm on the middle of the second page now, and I haven't really written much. In fact, all I've written is wind, and so much of it that it's turning into a tornado. But still, I hope you get my point; I've tried my best to say I'm sorry, and-oh, what you said on the train that day was right. I use the word "I" too much, and I'm appearing as a self-centered fool. But then, that's probably what I am. You know what they say-you can always tell what a person is like by the way he writes. And that holds true for me.
But if you can find it in your heart to forgive this self-centered, arrogant, presumptuous, semi-permanent, fair-weather punching bag, I'd be eternally grateful and beyond.
-James
Lily smiled indulgently, folding up the letter. Ignoring the "Lil, let me see!"s Eva was squealing, she stuffed it inside her trunk, pulling out parchment and ink of her own. Green ink, but then that was the only kind she hadn't used up of that stock she laid up her first time in Diagon Alley.
Pre-script: James, you're a terribly bad correspondent. Just writing 'Lily,' at the beginning, and not giving me a hint as to how I should address my letter. And what if I wrote 'Dear James' at the beginning of this and you teased me for the rest of my life about it? And what if I omitted the heading and you thought me rude, or if I wrote 'Dear Mr. Potter', or 'Hello there, you skunk'? I'd sound so formal and stiff, and so mean. And you've been rude enough for the both of us. The only path left for me to take, it seems, is to do the same thing that you did. It is common for friends to use the 'Dear Whoever' heading, isn't it? Good. I thought so. And, to address another point in your letter, the word 'hell' can be omitted. That doesn't even remotely define the type of year I had.
Dear Whoever,
I didn't think your letter was in the least like a love letter; what I really thought was: "Good grief, he's sounding like he's saying this on his deathbed and has to get it all out before it's too late." Sirius has too much of an imagination, don�t you think so? I do. That means you do, because I can't tolerate opposition, as you've doubtless noticed.
Since I'm writing to you now, I suppose I have to speak to you afterwards. Almost like in Gone with the Wind, where Scarlett is taken to everyone's house by Melanie, and the hostesses can't turn her away because of Melanie, but after they've received her, they can't cut her afterwards. That's just like this. I'm writing to you and being friendly, so it'd be a bit odd for me to be as mean as I could afterwards.
No, I'll be perfectly nice to you in public and private, unless you insist on injuring me again. Oh, don't draw any conclusions from that. You angered me when you used me, and you made me livid when you started to accuse me and all the rest, but don't flatter yourself by thinking that you had such a hold on my poor innocent heart that I was actually hurt by anything you said or did. I don't think we'll ever get to be such good friends that you can ever hurt me, but that isn't going to prevent me from being nice. At least, as nice as I can get, which, knowing me, isn't much.
-Lily
Post-script: There is such a thing as a pre-script, isn't there? There is now.
Oh, and Eva's been looking over my shoulder while I'm writing this and she insists that I should put in lots of "Oh, of course I forgive you" s in here, but you know me well enough to know that that 's not the type of stuff I write. And, like you, I'm not making a final draft. If we keep up this correspondence, we should swear solemnly not to re-write or cross out anything. Spelling mistakes don't count. And don�t try to palm off a whole sentence as a spelling mistake. That's cheating. But, unlike you, I'd say this in public and to your face. I don't care much for public opinion, as doubtless you have noticed.
Post-post-script: Sirius, I don't care if you tell the whole school, and I know you're going to look for this letter and find it if he doesn't show it to you, as you seem to know where every other bit of James' things are. So don't try to blackmail James. I don't care if you hang this from the ceiling at breakfast, and you know I don't. And I can train James not to care, and you know I can.
Snatching her letter out of Eva's grip, she folded it in sixths and placed it inside one of her envelopes, noticing with satisfaction that if James thought her letter was complete balderdash, he'd probably not be able to read most of it, as she had quite tiny writing. Giving Alisande an Owl Treat, she quickly scribbled a "To James from the person who had to decipher two pages of your terrible writing" on the front and handed the letter to her owl, who immediately took off into the pale pink clouds. Lily scowled at the tint of the masses of evaporated water, thinking that she infinitely preferred the deep orange and gold it had been earlier. But then the smell of bacon from downstairs made Lily and Eva dash for the kitchen, quickly pull the scones out of the oven and sit down to a breakfast, which, even if it wasn't in the same scale as that at Eva's or Hogwarts, was still very good.
Later that evening, James' owl arrived again. This time, it accepted a Spearmint Owl Treat (gives your owl minty smelling breath!) before soaring off again. Lily immediately ripped the envelope open and pulled out a foot-long bit of parchment with infinitely neater writing on it, bursting into laughter at the first few sentences.
Dear Lily,
I give. Don�t tease me about the heading. Sirius saw it and burst into the most unmale fit of giggles I thought it was safe to have. I got a bit nervous and left. I'm in the library now. I hope he won't look for me here, and if he does, I have a book nearby that I'm going to cover this with. Here's your piece of writing you asked for, the contract thingy. All right, maybe you didn't ask for it, but still, here it is:
I hereby faithfully swear that I shall not send Lily any second, third, or above drafts of letters. What I send her will be strictly my first draft, and if I do send her a final copy, I will also send her my rough draft.
Signed: James Potter
Happy? If not, send me a revised version, and I'll sign it. But you've got to sign exactly the same thing, too. You know what I just thought? You probably don't, but you're hearing it anyway. Reading, I meant. See, I had this crazy idea, probably inspired by my friend who's looking for me and is outside the door right now, that if you and me got married, and if we kept these letters, what utter balderdash (if I may use the phrase) our kids would think this is. They'd probably be right, too. Eva'd probably tell you that this is a proposition, but I'm imploring you to listen to your good sense and go with your first impression, which I hope I can pin down correctly: Where did that come from?
Well? Was I right? I certainly hope so. If so, tell me, and if not, tell me what it was.
Sirius is searching behind the bookshelves, so I'm just going to say Thank Mum for a half-way concealed armchair in this book-wilderness and goodbye. Thank Mum for a half-way concealed armchair in this book-wilderness and goodbye.
-James
Lily grinned again and handed over the letter to Eva, who, as Lily expected, burst into a fit of giggles when she saw the 'what if we were married' sentence.
"Lily, he likes you! Read this; he's practically proposed!" She squealed again, and Lily rolled her eyes.
"Eva, dear, read the next bit."
Eva obeyed and her face dropped.
"Lily, he just had to write this, didn't he?"
"He did."
"Oh, well." She thrust the letter aside, flung herself onto Lily's bed, which Lily was now going to be occupying, and rolled over on her stomach, kicking up her heels.
"Lily, even if he wrote that, do you think he was serious?"
Lily put down her quill and ink bottle. "Eva, he has Serena!"
"Well�so? I mean, yeah, Serena is a guy's dream, all plastic and things, but when you get right down to it, you're a real person. I bet the deepest thought she's ever had is "Geez, the reason things fall is because I dropped them. Come on, you're smarter than her any day!"
Lily sniffed. "Eva, dear, boys can't stand girls that're smarter than they are. And in this case, James has no other option than to take her. Oh, I'll admit she's smart when it comes to boys, but she doesn't think, I'll agree with you there. And I'm definitely off of the list for him when it comes to possible future girls. For Pete's sake, I'm only twelve!"
"Thirteen in June."
"Oh, right. Anyway, he's a year older than me. And even if I were older, no one would be the slightest bit interested."
"Why not?"
"I'm terribly ugly and have a smart mouth. No guy wants to even have his name mentioned in connection with someone who looks as bad as I do." Over the last year, Lily had paid so little attention to her appearance that she had come to know herself as a tousled, orange-headed, skinny little girl looking about seven instead of almost thirteen, and she did nothing to dispel this image from her mind.
"Liar!" Eva sat up in bed, indignation written all over her face. "You looked so-so pretty when you first came to Hogwarts! And you still are. They're just too darned blind to see past your messy braids! Don't look at me like that. They are messy. If you'd just let me work with you a bit, you'll see. And so will they."
Suddenly businesslike, Eva jumped off of the bed and marched over to her trunk, which included makeup and hair products for "the day when Mother finally stops being so stubborn." What that really meant was for when she was fifteen and her mother decided to let her wear makeup.
After burrowing in the powder-blue trunk for a while, she came up with a small wooden box. She slid back the lid and pushed Lily down, as far away from a mirror as possible, in case Lily decided this was nonsense and left.
Lily had to put up with many long minutes of untangling her hair while Eva washed it in a small basin. Then, putting it up in quite prickly curlers, Eva started to work with makeup.
Eva was obviously in her element; Lily was skeptical.
After a good two hours (it took that long because Petunia had broken the hairdryer and Lily's hair had to be air-dried), Eva had finished. She had also discovered a Muggle shirt that actually fit Lily; most of her shirts were baggy and much too big. This one was one she had been given as a gift when she was eight, and it was a beautiful forest green. Pulling out a pair of pale blue jeans from Lily's dresser, Eva threw them over to her friend, who, shaking her head, pulled them on.
When Lily had slipped into the clothes, Eva led Lily over to a mirror; the one that was over the bathroom sink. It is an understatement to say that Lily was shocked.
She had never seen herself like this, not for a year, and the only thing she recognized was her nose; slender, with a small tilt. Her hair had been washed thoroughly, with a darkening sort of conditioner, and the full luster of her burgundy curls shone brightly. She needed no powder on her face, but Eva had put especial work into her eyes.
The deep forest-green tigress eyes shone out with a sheen they had never had before. Dark and fathomless, they gazed out into the mirror, rimmed and enhanced with a hint of deep violet around the lashes, which, bristly, long and thick, were shaded black. Her lips, cutting a burgundy line through her face, parted to show the white, pearly teeth. Two small emeralds, placed in silver settings, pierced the lobe of each of her ears and sparkled with a bright glitter through the tumble of curls. Lily stared.
"Eva?"
"I told you."
"Told me what?"
"Look at you. You're beating Serena with a rawhide whip-she's never looked like this! Never."
Lily turned away from her reflection. "But Serena's so-so-"
"So-what? Exactly. So what?"
"Well, poised and dignified and pretty and-Eva, she's got that long blond hair and blue eyes and charm-I haven't got the least bit of that!"
Eva laughed, a scornful, short chuckle.
"Lily, you don't need charm. You've really already got it. And I'm even regretting doing this to you, because any attention I ever hoped to get is sorta crushed. And if James sees you like this, he'll dump Serena in a flash. I'd bet my life on that."
Lily had stood up, eyes widening. "He would?"
Eva nodded. "Definitely."
Standing up sharply, Lily ran to the sink. She turned on the faucet and let the water run over her hair, washing the curl out. Letting the cool stream run over her face, she wiped off all of the makeup. She reached behind her, grabbed a towel off of a hook, and wrapped it around her wet hair. Lily removed the earrings and slapped them into Eva's hand, closing her fingers about them, twisted the towel a few times, and shook her hair down. Eva simply stood there, shocked.
"Wh-what'd you do that for?"
Lily's eyes were blazing and she was clearly in a state of excitement. "I'm not going to ruin everything they have. He's happy, and I want him to stay that way. If he's not interested in a little twelve-year-old, he has his reasons. I'm not going to try to win him over with this-" she gestured to the makeup kit-"and then have him leave me if I-if I have vitriol thrown on me. I'm winning the husband I'll end up with by anything but looks. I hate the way I look, and I'm not going to give up happiness I might have with someone who understands me for someone who only likes my hair." After that speech, delivered with fire in her eyes and the impression of energy held into her frame by force, she dashed outside, only to fling her arms around a large tree trunk and sink, breathless, to the ground.
She stayed there a long time, for Eva, wise beyond her years, had judged that it was best to leave her friend alone for the time being. Somewhere between four o'clock and sunset, Lily got up, dusted herself off, and went into the house for paper and ink. Finding a queer relief in writing, she addressed her letter.
Dear James,
Your hunch of what I would say was totally wrong. Actually, the first thing I thought was, "Well, that makes sense." Not, "What utter balderdash." Still, it was a good try on your part.
Here's your contract. Sign it:
I, James Potter, hereby faithfully swear, forever and beyond, to be the slave of Lily Evans and to fulfil her slightest impulse.
Signed:_________________
There. That would be more like it. I signed exactly the same thing myself, in case you were wondering. Didn't change a single word.
Eva had fun today with makeup. Her makeup, that is; Serena has the stuff you gave me. Eva decided that I would look ever so charming if I tried to, so she put my hair up in curlers and painted my eyelids and did all sorts of uncomfortable things that, when put together, took two hours, and then was surprised when I told her that I didn't have the slightest intention of doing this every day. I mean, would you get up at four-thirty just so as to get ready? I thought not.
Still, she should be rather satisfied with the results. The results being that I finally caved and decided the throw away all of my pants that I ripped climbing trees and cliffs. So now I really only have three pairs left. But she's not getting anywhere if she decides to make me throw out all of the T-shirts that go down mid-way to my knees. And if she does do that, I'm going to be going around wearing white shirts with the top three buttons undone and a loose tie around my neck. See how she likes that.
Why did I start talking about clothes? I don't know. There's no point to it, really. Still, it was the best thing I came up with, so�so I wrote it down.
This is going to sound really vain and stuck-up and conceited, but I have to ask this of you, because I have the funny feeling that you're going to give me an honest answer: Do you think I would be more liked if I tried to do something with my hair and eyes and things? I was just wondering, and it seemed to me that Eva would be a biased witness, because she did the artistic part.
If you don't want to answer, don't, but please don't laugh.
-Lily
Post-script: Somehow, writing this makes me feel better. I don't know why, but it does.
