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The Art of Falling in Love

Lily Evans sighed, letting her thoughts drift as surely as the wind that blew through her maroon curls. She leaned back, settling against the white oak tree that stood by the lake, and she closed her eyes. Closed her eyes, and let herself think of him - oh, God, him.

She thought of him every day now. It was embarrassing. She found herself staring at him when he was practicing on the Quidditch pitch, found herself daydreaming about him in History of Magic. Marlene had noticed; how could she not? Anyone with eyes could tell that there was something different about Lily Evans this year. And Marlene most of all; she was Lily's best friend, after all, and friends tended to notice these things about each other. "If I didn't know better," Marlene had teased, "I'd say you had a crush on James Potter."

Lily had scoffed at the idea then - "Potter, Marlene? I'd sooner date the giant squid" - but now, privately, she wondered. James Potter was an arrogant toerag, he had always been that... but maybe now he was something more, too. Maybe now he was charming, and handsome, and funny, and she was fairly certain that he'd stopped messing around with Sev. Severus.

Not that Lily cared what happened to Severus, of course. He was - well, he'd - he'd given up their friendship, and Lily wasn't obligated to protect him anymore.

Wasn't obligated, but really, if she were being truthful, she still cared. She'd always cared. Just not - not exactly in the way he'd wanted her to - and it'd become dangerous, toxic, and now it was over.

Lily took a deep, shuddering breath. She kept replaying that day in her head, even over a year later. Mudblood. He'd called her that and then he'd had the audacity to attempt an apology, saying she was different from all the other Muggle-borns. God, he was stupid. He'd always been so stupid, all the way back to when he'd caused that branch to fall on Petunia when they were younger...

Yes, there was Petunia, and she, too, was quite complicated. She was engaged, now, to a man named Vernon Dursley. And with the arrival of this new man, Petunia had become more anti-Lily than ever before. Lily had always loved Hogwarts, of course, but she'd always liked going home over the holidays to see her parents and sister. She wasn't excited for the holidays now. Rather, she was relieved that she had an excuse to not go home: "But Mum, Dad, it's my last year here and I want to enjoy it while I can!" Lily wouldn't have to deal with Petunia this year, thank God.

She'd already been called a Mudblood by someone she'd considered as close as family. She didn't think she could live with being called a freak once more by someone who actually was.

Lily shook her head softly, as though to clear it, and opened her eyes. The water in the lake was still and clear, and it was the brightest shade of blue-green, like Marlene's eyes. And standing right next to Lily, almost like it had been there all along, was a gorgeous white stag.

A near-imperceptible smile crept onto Lily's face as she reached out to stroke the stag, beckoning it forward. "Hello, you," she said quietly, her voice a bit shaky. "How have you been?" The stag, of course, didn't answer. How could it? But talking to it had become a sort of routine for Lily. Every Sunday, she came down to sit by the lake and think. And every Sunday, like clockwork, the stag came to rest next to her.

Lily's eyes fell on a purple chrysanthemum in the grass near her. Taking care not to rip off any of its petals, she pulled the flower from the ground and set it down next to the stag. "There you go." Her voice was soft. "Just for you."

Lily felt like crying, but she knew she wouldn't. She was as tough as nails, as fierce as a lion. Little things couldn't break her. Being called a Mudblood by her oldest friend couldn't break her. Not even being labeled a freak by her own sister could break her.

But could James Potter?

And all of a sudden she was thinking about him again, about the way his warm hazel eyes were always smiling. She was thinking about his messy black hair, the hair he was always running a hand through. And those hands, strong and delicate at the same time. The gentle slope of his lips; the way he bit the inside of his cheek when he smiled at her.

"Oh," Lily whispered, mortified. She turned to the stag, a blush rising to her face. "You wouldn't - you won't - tell anyone that I was thinking about him again, will you?"

Which was a rather strange question, frankly, for two reasons. First and foremost, because the stag could not speak and therefore was unable to tell anyone about anything. And also because it could not read Lily's mind, and so had no idea who she'd been thinking about. But the stag tilted its head and it almost seemed curious, just for a minute, so Lily continued. She needed someone to talk to, and occasionally best friends like Marlene just weren't enough.

"It's just that he came back this year so different. God, he's different. He's so - I don't know - mature. Almost. Not quite. But he's Head Boy, and that's - well, it says something about how much he's changed, it really does." Lily was stumbling over her words now, because she was scared of what she was saying. "He's stopped hexing people as much, and he doesn't seem as arrogant as he once did. He and I were friends last year, did I tell you that? I'd hated him for so long. But last year we became friends, and he was - he was kind. He was sweet. He was smart, too, now that I think of it. He's always had some of the highest marks in our year. And he stopped asking me out for the fun of it, he - he - he seemed like a really good friend.

"And he - well, I don't want to seem shallow, but - he's grown up in other aspects, too, over the summer." She flushed as she said it, but it felt like the truth. If she was going to be completely honest here, then she was going to be completely honest. "He's taller now, and more - well - not athletic, exactly, but - oh, I don't know. Toned? I'd be lying if I said he wasn't - his hair looks good when he messes it up, damn it. And his eyes are so pretty, they're hazel with these gorgeous green and brown and golden rings - oh, God, I just - I stare at him all day, you know?

"But it scares me," Lily whispered, this final confession coming out in a rush. "I told myself that I hated him for so long. And then last year, I told myself that we were just friends. And this year - well, I don't know what we are yet. I want to be more, damn it, I want to have something with him. I think. He's different, he really is. But - but I don't know - and I spent so long resisting, yet here I am now."

Lily sighed shakily, and the stag did also, its breathing almost synchronized with hers. She was so scared. She didn't want to like James Potter. It was the last thing she wanted.

But Marlene had been right when she had teased Lily two days ago. "You can't help who you fall in love with," Marlene had said sagely, grabbing Dorcas's hand.

And dear God, Lily may not have been in love, but she sure as hell couldn't control this awful crush she had.

"Alright, well, that's enough," Lily said thickly, standing up. Glancing down, she pushed the chrysanthemum a little closer to the stag. "Keep that, okay? And I'll see you next week. Maybe."

With that, Lily started back up towards the castle. Her face was burning. She didn't get embarrassed easily; the opposite was true, actually. But what she had said down there, to that stag - it had felt so true, so real. Too real. And never mind everything else in her life right then - never mind Severus and Petunia. She wanted James Potter. And that was a huge problem.

Lily wasn't paying attention to where she was going as she walked back to the Gryffindor common room; how could she? Which is why she didn't notice that she was about to run into James Potter until the collision itself occurred.

His face was red and overflowing with excitement and nervousness. It appeared that he, too, had been lost in his own thoughts. And then he glanced up, already apologizing for bumping into her, and he stopped dead when he saw Lily. And suddenly he couldn't speak, and his mouth was forming shapes but no sound was coming out.

And Lily was still blushing - damn it, why wouldn't that blush go away? And she managed to get some words out, just barely: "Oh, hello, Jame- Potter." But then she noticed what he carried. And it was a purple chrysanthemum. And she all of a sudden couldn't speak anymore.

And she couldn't very well ask him about that flower, could she? So she fell silent and hurried away, failing to notice James's eyes following her.

Failing to notice the smile that spread across James's face, filled with pure joy.

Failing to notice her own.