A/N: And here we have my latest little brain child. I'm not aiming for the extremely plotsy with this one, more like angsty/poignant/thoughtful. I haven't done a lot of angst in a while, so let me know what you think, please. Reviews are highly appreciated.
Takes place during seventh year, rated T just to be safe. ;)
Please READ AND REVIEW!

It looked like today would be the last day of summer.

There was no other explanation, because a day as beautiful as this could only be followed by the approach of another season. Today, the perfect day, was the end of an era; one of spending all day outside, one of watching the sun sink behind the hills, filling the sky with hues of violet and scarlet, one of being completely unrestricted in anything one does or says, and one of such pulchritude that the end of it often left one filled with an incredible yearning and nostalgia.

It was the end of September; a Saturday afternoon, to be exact. The entirety of the Hogwarts' population seemed to want to be outdoors that day. Students lay sprawled out on the grass, basking in the bright, warm light, chasing each other about while shrieking with laughter, dipping their feet precariously in the Black Lake. Tranquility floated about the entire school like a hazy fog, including everyone in it with a accepting happiness.

On days like this it was usual for him to be flying about the Quidditch Pitch, or lounging about with his friends while whipping up their newest prank. It was usual to be tackling down that essay he'd so conveniently forgotten about until today. Yet James Potter found himself alone, leaning against the large beech tree by the foot of the lake, taking in the scene around him with a stoic look about his eyes. On his lap sat a small book, opened to a few stanzas of poetry, pages worn away from years of being turned. James had started reading poetry since he was little, when his mother would read the famous lines of Faulkner and Dickinson so he would fall asleep at night. He liked the easy flow of it; how the words wound around his tongue like a comforting tourniquet, the fact that even if the poem didn't make sense, it was still beautiful to hear.

Sunlight danced effortlessly about the water of the lake, forming a luminescent illusion that looked vaguely like stairs on the liquid surface. A soft breeze flitted about the air, caressing the faces of the students sprinkled about the lawn as it wove along. The weather was oddly calm today--probably about to announce the approach of autumn--but enjoyable all the same.

James stared at the surface of the lake for a little longer, unconsciously running a hand through his hair in thought. It wasn't often that he got moments like this, moments in which the barriers in his head simply fell away, allowing him to accept and mull over any trifling emotion he'd been denying for too long. Sitting there, one knee propped up with his arm hanging off it and the other stretched out, he was able to accept something that had been gnawing at his conscience for weeks:

She hadn't spoken to him in over three months, let alone acknowledged that he existed.

Normally, this fact wouldn't have bothered him. She often went through periods of ignoring him, because she couldn't stand the sight of him, but it was never this extreme. It had all gone and gotten worse after that one fight. One fight; tumultuous and catastrophic and permanently ending any grudging acquaintance they might have earned. James blinked, shaking the memories from his mind that were too hurtful to ponder over.

They didn't speak, see, or even take note of each other after that fight.

The return to Hogwarts after break had been quiet and tentative. James returned to his daily routine of goofing off and hanging with the guys, and she returned to her studious patterns and habits. They had continued to exist in these separate circles for the last month, taking extreme measures to not make any contact whatsoever. James would have already talked to her, already asked her out a dozen times over, but after what had happened between the two of them last year, after the fight....he found he had nothing to say to her. Too proud to apologize, too polite to accuse, he decided to remain passively silent when it came to her.

Lolling about in the sun, the balmy air surrounding him and filling his senses with an alarming amount of peace, James finally came to the terms with the fact that him and Lily Evans would probably never speak to or see each other again. They'd continue to exist in their separate lives, like two bubbles that would not touch for fear they should burst.

He loved her; that much was evidently true. There was no denying how he felt about her, even after all they'd been through. It sounded foolish to admit, him being not yet seventeen. It made no sense that he would want the one thing that was nigh impossible to reach. But most things, he'd come to find, never made sense when it came to Lily. She was the most inexplicable person he had ever met; a single paradox of a fiery attitude and a gentle heart, a smirk, snicker, and smile, a burning cold shoulder and a chilling inner warmth.

Like summer itself; beautiful, but never around long enough for him to enjoy.

The weather today seemed to radiate incandescence, lighting the atmosphere up with shades of gold and skies blue as a robin's egg. Summer was James' favorite season, and being there, appreciating the last rays of pure heat; careless and convenient, seemed to satisfy him for the time being. In that moment, watching that dazzling sun sink lower as the seconds ticked by, it was hard to keep from closing his eyes with a smile on his face, and just let the blaze of summer wash over him.

Suddenly, a loud burst of laughter sounded from some twenty feet in front of him. James' eyes snapped open, narrowing slightly as they adjusted on the source of the sound. In a matter of seconds his vulnerable, happy expression hardened impassively.

Lily Evans walked along at the foot of the lake, her socks and shoes abandoned on the shoreline. Marlene McKinnon and Alice Prewitt walked with her, dipping their feet in the cool water and screaming when the shock of the cold hit them.

James tried not to look at them, tried to once again lose himself in the cheery afternoon breeze. But there was no hope for him now, his curiosity was pricked and agitated like a bee had stung him. He had to watch her, if only for a fleeting moment. Guiltily, he allowed his hazel eyes to fix on her, taking in a sight that he hadn't seen in three months.

Her hair had always looked very pretty in the sun.

It hung in tresses down her back, pulled over to one side in a low pony tail. In the aureate rays of light, it almost looked like liquid fire pooling over her shoulders. James remembered how often he used to compliment her hair, even on days when it was more frizzier than most girls'. Her cheeks were still pale and freckly as he'd always known them to be. Of course, she was different as well. She had changed over the summer.

He had as well, of course. James had changed in many ways himself. His easy going arrogance was now humble, quiet, and patient. He wasn't as rowdy and immature as he once was. It you didn't know James, you wouldn't have noticed the change. But Lily, Lily had most certainly changed. It was something in the way she stood and carried herself, like she had finally crossed that awkward bridge from adolescence into adult hood. She was a little taller, a little more slender. And she looked tired, he noticed with a slight pang. Like she'd spent too many nights up for reasons no one knew of. She had a hidden secret playing about the corners of her eyes, unspoken and weary, probably inducing the tired countenance.

He realized then that she was looking back at him.

There was too large a distance between the two of them to see if her eyes were still the same shade of emerald they'd always been, but even so, he saw no reason to look away. A single glance was truly all he needed from her at that moment, and far more than he could ever expect.

There were a million different things to wonder in that moment; why she hadn't glared at him, why he was putting himself in such a vulnerable position right now, why, despite what had passed between them, he was still undeniably attracted to her. But he had no time to ask himself any of these, because almost instantly after she looked at him, she looked away once more, walking away without turning back.

It wasn't a conversation and it wasn't a contact. It could be barely be called anything but a simple, innocent glance. Soft, tentative, shy, yet it managed to easily fuel his hopes with fresh adrenaline. He felt awake, alive, any stoic expression expertly removed by that single pair of green eyes.

Because unlike today; the end of summer, of an era, that look seemed to mark the beginning of a new one. Maybe she wasn't crazy about him as he was about her, but that single glance had confirmed that she didn't hate him. It was enough assurance for now, even though it wasn't much to start with.

But it was a start. That's all he could ask for.

As the last day of summer faded to dusk, taking with it all the memories of forgotten and remembered pasts, James decided to watch the sun go down. Rather than chase after that look she gave him, beg for another from her, he would wait. He'd let Lily be the one to call the shots this time. It was all about letting her be the one to approach him this time, all about waiting just a little longer. He didn't mind much that she would probably take ages to come around; he could wait for eons.

Because when it came to loving her, being with her, wanting her, James Potter didn't need a 'how', 'why', or 'where'.

All he needed was a 'when'.