unspeakable | jegulus

do you believe me?

chapter title: art of dying by george harrison

"Lily, can we talk?" The common room was alight with warmth and conversation. Everything was washed in shades of red and gold, including her. Her coppery hair was loose and long, falling around her face, complimenting the golden freckles scattered over her cheeks, the red eyelashes around her bright eyes.

James loved everything about her.

The tip of her nose, the curve of her lips, the passive sweetness she carried with her everywhere she went, the way she looked when she was laughing...the way she looked at him.

She was warmer than the fire.

She was everything he'd ever wanted.

It was midday, but outside the window the world was dark. The sun was blotted from the sky by the moon. Apparently, the eclipse would only last a few minutes. That knowledge did nothing to quell the agonizing fear coursing through his blood.

Lily's pale, reddish eyebrows furrowed when she looked up at him. He was usually so easygoing and happy that any sign of sadness or seriousness in him automatically set everyone on edge. She seemed like she was on edge. He could feel strangers watching them. Meddlesome gossip-mongers hungry for a scandal they could sink their teeth into, a quartet of thirteen year old girls hoping for a story to share with their friends, then their friends friends, then the entire school by the same time tomorrow, the truth mutating into something unrecognizable on its way through a painful game of telephone. Did you hear James and Lily are fighting? Did you hear James Potter shouted at Lily Evans in the middle of the common room? Did you hear? Did you hear?

Sometimes his popularity felt more like a curse than a blessing.

"Of course. Always." He drank her in while he was still allowed to look at her. I love you, he thought. He'd chased her for half of his life, and he finally had her in his hands, but the universe conspired to rip her away from him before he could even make good on one of the promises he'd made to her. Was he always destined to falter as soon as he crossed the finish line? Is that why it took him so long to have her? He had her. He had her, and he lost her. They were still together yet he was already thinking about their relationship in the past tense.

This is the last time he gets to call her his.

This moment, looking at her by the fire.

"What is it? You seem sad."

"I have to talk about something with you. It's important." Her expression shifted. Worry lit up inside of her. He could see it, under her skin, behind her eyes, exactly where he was wearing it. When she stood and took his hand in hers, the fire behind her red hair made a makeshift halo of light. James had always believed that Lily was the closest thing on earth to an angel. He willed his mind to save a frame of this memory like a picture so he could look at it later when he inevitably forgot the exact pattern of freckles over her nose, the exact shade of green of her eyes—a green that he'd never been able to find anywhere else, not in apples, or leaves, or grass, or gemstones. He felt sick. He didn't want to do this. "Not here, in private."

"Of course," she said softly. She squeezed his hand in hers. "I've never seen you go this long without cracking a smile. Did someone die?"

"Sorry." He forced a smile and she saw right through it. Her attempt at levity failing seemed to stress her out even more. Guilt gnawed at him. Lily's eyes narrowed. Her grip on his hand tightened. "I'm not trying to freak you out."

"Well, you are freaking me out. Is your dorm empty?" James shrugged. "Let's see, alright? Whatever's going on, we can talk about it. We're a team." His heart felt like it might be shrivelling up into a little dead thing inside of his chest. It was crumpling like paper. She lead him up to his dorm. "See, easy peasy. Empty as a school on Sunday. Tell me, what's wrong?" When he hesitated she touched his cheek. "You can tell me anything."