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“I can’t pretend anymore. You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine.”
She had been so angry. She did not know if she had ever been so angry.
The word – Mudblood - resonated in her mind, twisting in and out of her thoughts without her consent. It was late, an hour had passed since she had left Severus pale and tongue-tied outside of the common room, and the fire was burning low. She shivered in her dressing gown, glaring at the dwindling flames.
She needed to stew, to process. And, if anything, she had to calm herself down before she could even consider the idea of going to sleep and facing a new day. This day had been long in its coming, the fight overdue. She had known for over a year that things couldn’t remain the same and she had been deluding herself… but she couldn’t pretend any longer. At the end of the day, in spite of their friendship, she was a Muggleborn and she was no different to any of the other Muggleborns he hated.
She was still glaring at the flickering flames when the Fat lady’s portrait swung open and James Potter ducked through. He was alone, without the other three boys that usually trailed behind him, always laughing and making trouble. The Marauders – or whatever they were – were a headache at times. They were an annoyance, but they were harmless. They weren’t like Severus and his new friends.
Potter hadn’t seen her, she realised, as he loosened his already lose tie and let out a long sigh. He never sighed. He never seemed to frown much either. He always seemed the type be in good spirits – even if his good spirits were caused by being a pest to the rest of the population.
“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid.”
She had been so cross with him too. She had always found his arrogance and his attitude irritating, but never had she been so angry with him. Her lips twitched and for a moment, she wanted to snip at him for a number of things, but her heart wasn’t in it. When he turned, noticing her, she saw that the side of his face was still badly cut, though most of the blood had been washed away.
“Potter? Where’ve you been?” She asked, and her tone lacking its usual primness. It wasn’t Potter’s fault for what Severus had said to her. It would be wrong to take her frustrations out on him.
“Hospital Wing.” He muttered. His fingers ran through his untidy hair in a more nervous, habitual manner than usual. Lily frowned. What had she said again? Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick! Her lips pressed together, his uneasy expression and injury causing guilt to bite at her a little.
“Are you alright?”
James’ eyebrows lifted slightly but after a moment, he nodded.
“Yeah, you?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Again, his eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t say anything. Rather, he instead moved wordlessly around the couch to the fire. In the light, what Severus had done to him seemed so much worse. There were two gashes, the worst running along his cheekbone. She hadn’t even heard the spell, only seen what it had done. She watched, chewing down on her lower lip, as he dropped into the armchair closest to the fireplace with a sigh. “Why were you at the Hospital Wing for so long?”
Potter looked back at her and he shrugged.
“I was there since dinner. The nurse wanted me to sleep there, but… well, the beds aren’t the comfiest.” The corner of his lip twitched up into a slight, half-hearted smile. She tried to look elsewhere, but her eyes kept travelling towards his cheek. It had been healed, she could see that when she looked closer, but the gashes were still angry and red and the shirt he wore was splattered with his own blood.
“What time is it?” She asked, asking yet another question.
“About half one, I think.” He answered, his eyes fixed on the flames. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, she realised. That was what was different about him. It was strange; she couldn’t help but think, to see him without his glasses.
“I’m – er – sorry, about today. It got out of hand.”
Lily stared, momentarily lost for words. She did not know if she had ever heard him apologise for anything, yet alone seem to mean it. Potter was either being polite or simply hadn’t noticed her gaping at him, as with a smile, he pushed himself onto his feet. “Anyway, I’m going to go to bed.”
He didn’t wait for her to say anything. She was grateful for that. But, when he reached the steps leading up to the boy’s dormitories, he paused. He looked back over his shoulder, and he smiled again. When he was not smirking like a fool, he had a handsome face. Even she could see why all the other girls fawned over him. “’Night, Evans.” He said, and then he was gone.
“I’d NEVER call you a - you-know-what!”
Lily smiled very faintly to herself and then she too, at long last, dragged herself to bed.