To Make Lovers From Friends

To Make Lovers From Friends

Lily felt her hands shaking as she reached for the door of her dormitory and threw it open, then the satisfying smack when it slammed shut behind her.

It was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed not to scream in frustration.

Oh, what the hell?

"ARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

"Goodness, dear-" the mirror started.

"Shut up," Lily snapped. She wasn't in the mood.

That idiot! That annoying, stuck up, conceited, arrogant jackass! To stand there and -

Feeling her blood boiling, Lily took careful aim at the glass vase on her dresser and set off the most powerful Reductor Curse she could manage, imagining each of those shards now flying through the air as a piece of James Potter's body.

She remained with her wand outstretched for a minute or two, staring at absolutely nothing. Then her arm dropped, defeated.

She was a fool.

"Reparo," she muttered and the glass all over the room immediately returned to the dresser and fit itself together seamlessly. Lily dropped her wand with a clatter and threw herself backwards onto the bed, wishing she could just leave Hogwarts and never have to look at James Potter again.

He disgusted her.

And she hated that.

She hated that she could remember a smiling boy who'd helped her onto Platform 9 ¾, hated that she could remember hazel eyes flashing in anger the first time she'd ever let Lucius Malfoy make her cry and the mounds of desserts nicked from the kitchen that had shortly followed. She hated that she could remember an exhausted black head rolling onto her shoulder, spent from staying up all night waiting for Remus to come back, and the exuberant shout when the boy first found out he'd made the Quidditch team.

She hated that she could remember hours spent in playful competition during Charms and Transfiguration, a bundle of letters sent back and forth during the summer, time down at Hagrid's admiring his newest pet; Shard fears late at night when most of Gryffindor couldn't sleep, bracing grins before a class with the Slytherins, relieved smiles when the letter came from Mum that Dad was home safe.

And she hated that she could remember the deep feeling of contentment each of these had brought her.

He'd been her friend.

Then...

Lily wasn't sure what had happened.

It had been during fourth year. James had hit puberty and been instated as Gryffindor's star Quidditch player in almost the same instant. Practically overnight, James had gone from being "a cool kid" to "The Cool Kid." He shot up a foot, his voice dropped an octave and he'd led the cremation of the Slytherins in the first game of the season. Instant fame. Guys slapped him five in the hallways, tried to wear their hair like him, liked to be seen walking next to him, and asked for Quidditch tips after class. Girls were suddenly everywhere, dripping from him, batting their eyelashes and thrusting their breasts into his arm. Lily could still see James' bemused smile the first time this had taken place and remembered fully the way he'd allowed himself to be steered away, eyes wide, shooting a last glance and grin over his shoulder before disappearing into a crowd of seventh years. She distinctly remembered staring after him for a few moments before straightening up defiantly and walking to Transfiguration, forgetting entirely that it was Tuesday and she was supposed to be in History of Magic.

She remembered the teasing grin he'd shot her when she'd walked into Binn's class ten minutes late. She also remembered returning it with a withering look and sitting as far away from him as she could possibly get.

Then he'd spent lunch discussing the way Francine Bourdecai couldn't manage more than one two syllable word per sentence and she could hardly stay angry with him after that.

A week later had found James and Francine Bourdecai being chased out of a broom closet by a fuming Professor McGonagall, Francine's shirt half-hanging off her shoulder.

James swore left and right that she'd cornered him and he'd initiated nothing. As he'd been telling Sirius this, Lily believed him but she'd given James a wide berth after that. She knew for a fact he'd initiated things later on and it made her sick to think of it.

As time wore on, Lily found herself avoiding him. She hated seeing the way people simpered over him and the way he let them, almost seeming to enjoy it. She hated the way Sirius was now also hot stuff and how Remus was often shoved to the side by the other students in their haste to get to James and Sirius.

She hated the way he primped now, making sure his hair was properly messy and his tie properly disheveled and that top button just forgotten to be done up so that a peek of skin could be seen when he moved.

She hated when his hexing Slytherins extended to anyone who annoyed him and then some, just because he could. He was cool, he could do whatever he wanted. Even McGonagall had trouble remaining tight lipped when he shot her a grin.

She couldn't stand it. Not in the light of what he had been and what he still could be.

At first, he'd sought her out. The truth was - Lily knew - that it was around this same time that he'd began to notice her in the way that boys noticed girls. No longer as a friend but as...something else. She was never sure if he'd ever noticed her withdrawal. She thought he probably hadn't, not at first anyway. By April, fourth year, though, he mostly left her alone. He was too busy with the Quidditch Cup, hexing Snape, his newfound popularity to bother with her anymore. At least, not when she wanted nothing to do with them. He'd tried to include her at first, but Lily hadn't wanted it so eventually he'd given up. He stopped talking to her though Lily caught him - more than once - staring at her in class. He always looked away quickly when their eyes met, flushing.

He'd been almost contrite when he'd told her goodbye that year. Lily had gone home thinking that maybe next year, things would be back to normal.

But the worst happened over the summer and both James and Sirius returned to school ridiculously good looking and both ridiculously aware of it.

James had asked her out their first day back, in the middle of the Great Hall, with everybody in the school watching, Sirius hooting in the background, and a cocky grin on his face as though knowing she wouldn't refuse.

Lily had been mortified.

He'd meant so much to her and now he was treating everything like it was some big show, strictly for sport and meaningless.

Like she was no different - and, indeed, nothing more - to him than all those other girls he'd asked out.

She'd said no, flatly, turned and walked out of the Great Hall, not quite fast enough to miss James shrugging it off and turning to his eager and more-than-happy-to-oblige fan club.

She'd hurt him for an instant.

She'd seen that.

But then he'd played it off and she'd long since chalked it up to his wounded pride.

She herself meant nothing to him anymore. Just a memory. A token he couldn't have.

That's all his repeated asking her out was. A game. A joke.

It hurt that he'd made a joke out of their friendship.

She'd since then managed to harden her heart, form an encasing of ice around it, but that didn't mean it could be cracked occasionally. Only James could make her react so explosively.

She hated that he had that power over her.

She hated that she couldn't seem to take that power back for herself.

She hated that she was still waiting for the old James Potter when he'd made it clear that the new one was here to stay.