More than a week later, James awoke feeling slightly dazed and confused by a series of dreams in which Lily, about to kiss him, had turned into chocolate ice cream and melted. For a few moments, he lay immobile, then hastily he put on his glasses, leapt out of bed and scrambled into the freshly laundered jeans and t-shirt that one of the elves had laid out for him at the foot of his bed, probably at some unearthly hour in the morning.
He had been revisiting the broom-cupboard in his dreams since arriving at the summer house in Clovelly. Clovelly was a small fishing village in Devon, set into a steep hillside. A cobbled path called Main Street wound its way down the length of the village, between whitewashed cottages, to a small harbour. The Potter house stood alone at the top of the hill, tucked away amongst trees and shrubbery and roads to other places.
A short familiar walk from the house was a cliff, overlooking the sea. James sat there most evenings, when Sirius was out with Marlene, drinking in the cliff-top view of open sky and wide, empty sea; feeling the cold salty wind on his face; listening to the constant ebb and flow of the waves, that sounded like the breathing of some great, slumbering creature. He blamed this lonely and beautiful place for his recurring dreams; there was too much time and space for thinking.
It didn't help that his mum had banned James and Sirius from playing quidditch in the garden in case they were seen by the muggles in the village. James had pointed out that everyone who had lived in Clovelly for a hundred years had suspected that there was something strange about the house and its inhabitants; not for any substantial reason, such as boys on flying broomsticks, but simply because it was traditional. This was true. His parents had made every effort to fit in with the neighbours, but still they were the subject of local gossip. Most disconcerting were the strangely dressed guests, who seemed to appear and then disappear without the use of transport, and the sudden appearance of nocturnal birds: most of the people in Clovelly had never seen an owl, but as soon as the Potters arrived for the summer, they would swoop past in broad daylight. Mrs Potter had argued that when one already suspects witchcraft, seeing two boys flying around on broomsticks would be a crucial piece of evidence, and the broomsticks were locked in the shed.
When James arrived in the kitchen ten minutes later, having had a shower and made some attempt to tame his wild hair, it was to find Sirius at the basin beneath the window trying to coax a handsome tawny owl off the apple tree.
"Yours is on its way, Prongs," said Sirius, pointing through the kitchen window. Joining Sirius, James could see a black speck clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time. It became clear as it flew closer to the house, that the owl was carrying his Hogwarts letter.
Mrs Potter came into the kitchen with an opened tin of sardines. "These should do the trick, Sirius," she said holding them up to the window. "Morning, honey," she added to James.
As soon as it smelled the fish, the postal owl soared through the window and landed on the table. James' owl followed. They lifted their right legs and the boys untied their letters. James slit it open and unfolded the parchment inside, dropping his envelope on the table.
Sirius abruptly stopped reading his own letter and looked up. "What was that noise?" he asked.
"It'll be a new Captain's badge," said James, picking up his torn envelope. He put a scarlet Quidditch Captain's badge on the table, then reached back into the envelope, took out another badge and held it up to inspect it in the light. Two words gleamed on the surface: Head Boy.
The three of them gazed at it in silence for a moment. James studied the badge as though he were not quite sure whether his eyes were deceiving him.
"Is that...?" Sirius' voice trailed off. "Prongs, are you...?"
James' eyes grew wide. "I'm head boy," he whispered in disbelief.
For a while neither Sirius nor his mother spoke. James had the impression that both had frozen.
Suddenly, Sirius went into a raucous peal of laughter. A reluctant grin spread over James' face as he watched his friend writhing in his chair. Then Mrs Potter made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or tears, it was hard to tell.
"I don't believe it!" she gasped. "What wonderful news! Wait until your father hears." She flung her arms around her only son and kissed him twice on both cheeks, which sent Sirius into more fits of laughter.
"Mum...get a grip," James muttered leaning away.
She held his face and said breathlessly, "I'm sorry, I'm just so proud of you," then rushed through the kitchen door, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
"So," Sirius said finally, grinning up at James, "I suppose you'll be prancing around handing out detentions and deducting points from now on." He danced around the table with his arms held aloft like a ballerina.
"I don't intend to prance, no," said James. "Otherwise I guess that's fairly accurate. That is what the head boy does?" His statement became a genuine question halfway through, but Sirius just shrugged.
"You should call Lily," said Sirius eagerly, putting the kitchen phone on the table. James' parents had installed the phone and never used it, but since Sirius had arrived it had been put to good use calling Marlene.
"What? Why? Why would I call Lily?"
"Aside from the fact that you've picked up that phone with Lily's number in your hand at least twice a day for the past week..." James turned a brighter scarlet than his badge. "She might like to know who the head boy to her head girl is."
"You're right," said James, suddenly as pale as he had been red. "Unless Dumbledore has gone completely mad, there is no way Lily isn't head girl...and I'm head boy."
"So, call her!"
"No, I can't do that! That's stupid," said James, fiddling with his badge.
Sirius pushed the phone across the table, and said earnestly, "I'd never let you do anything stupid...alone."
"That ought to be the motto of our friendship," said James, raising his eyebrows.
"The truly pathetic thing is we've already got a motto."
"Merlin, we're annoying."
Sirius nudged the phone again and James sighed, dialling Lily's number.
"You memorised it," sniggered Sirius.
"Oh, shut up, git- Lily! Hi, it'...er...it's James."
"Hi," came the sound of Lily's voice; she sounded slightly surprised. "I didn't think you'd actually call-."
"I need to tell you something!" James blurted out.
"Oh," Lily laughed softly. "Okay."
There was a long pause, then James said quietly, "I thought you should know that...I've been..." He paused again, unsure why he couldn't just spit it out.
"James? Are you still there?"
"I'm here! I'm here!" said James, scrambling to his feet and starting to pace up and down the kitchen. "Okay, I need to tell you something, and it's about school, okay?"
"Oh. Okay."
James thought she sounded disappointed and he panicked. "What? No, no forget that."
"What is it, James?"
"Okay, look...um...do you want to come over? What are you doing today?"
"I have plans."
Sirius scoffed.
"James, is Sirius there?"
"No, no, I'm alone. Sirius is out," he said, glaring at Sirius. "That was just the dog."
"Right."
"So, so you have plans. Oh...well, that's..."
"Yes, I have plans to lie on my bed and read Dorcas' Loony Nonby for the fifty-thousandth time."
James beamed, and asked seriously, "Do you think you could call it off?"
"I don't know," Lily sighed. "I suppose it can wait until tomorrow, if you're desperate to see me."
"Loony Nonby won't be offended."
"Oh, sure, but I can be very persuasive."
"I'll apparate right now," said James. "Are you ready now?"
"I can be ready now."
"Okay, I'm coming."
"You invited her over!" exclaimed Sirius when James had put the phone down.
"I couldn't tell her on the phone," explained James defensively, shoving his head boy badge into his back pocket. "I need to see her face when I tell her in case she...I don't know...cries or something."
Sirius started laughing again.
"Just don't be here when I get back," James said warningly.
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"Bother one of your other friends," smirked James. "Marlene maybe?"
He turned on the spot. At once, there was that horrible sensation that he was being squeezed through a thick rubber tube; then, just when he thought he must suffocate, the invisible tube seemed to burst open, and he was standing outside her house, breathing in lungfuls of fresh air.
"James!" Lily called from her front gate.
"Do you want to go somewhere to apparate?" James asked her.
Lily looked along the street then back at the house. James could see Petunia's pointy nose at the upstairs window, but Lily shook her head and took hold of James' arm. She felt it twist and they disapparated with the usual loud crack.
When Lily's brain caught up with her senses, she saw that they were now standing in front of the most beautiful country manor that she had ever seen. It must have been at least five hundred years old. Nascent sandstone walls sprung from the soil with all the hues mother nature can provide and barren of the moss or ivy that usually clung to walls of old houses. The windows were huge, mullioned and almost cathedral-like; the glass as thick as a beer bottle; each rectangle no bigger than a notebook, held in place with black iron. If James had wanted to impress Lily with his home it would have worked. The house took her breath away.
She swallowed. "You- you live here?"
"During the summer," said James, embarrassed by the awe on Lily's face.
"No wonder you had no trouble adjusting to Hogwarts in first year."
A pea shingle path led them to a double oak front door.
"This house has been in the family for centuries," said James, slipping off his shoes on the mat and taking Lily down a corridor off the grand entrance hall. Lily wasn't listening. Wooden panels, ornate chandeliers and oil paintings of old bearded men in emerald robes and pointy hats ran along the corridor. To the left and right she glanced into rooms where oak floors and antique furniture were bathed in daylight. Lily was completely awestruck.
She followed James down a short flight of stone stairs into a tall room with a rug spread out over the flagstones, a fireplace big enough that a small dragon might have been lighting the fire, and an oak-beamed ceiling. A long wooden table had been laid for breakfast. The sound of James' bare feet hitting the floor stopped and he turned to face Lily, his wet and shiny hair flopping down into his eyes.
Lily tore her eyes away from the room and looked at him. "You never told me you lived in Buckingham palace," she said. "And what do you mean 'during the summer'? Do you have other houses?"
James nodded. "The main house is in London," he said as he sat at the table and gestured for Lily to join him. "I'm not there very much though, because we spend most of the summer here." He picked up a fork and began shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
But Lily suddenly remembered a letter she'd had from James over Christmas. He hadn't been at either house when he'd written it.
"Where were you at Christmas?"
James looked up from his eggs, a little surprised. "Godric's Hollow," he mumbled with his mouth full.
Lily rolled her eyes teasingly, and said, "You're just showing off now."
"That's the last one, I promise," James grinned. "It's probably my favourite actually, and it's mine if I want it...when we leave school." He looked up at Lily and smiled. "But before you get any ideas about marrying me for my money, it's nothing like this place."
"What's it like?" Lily asked curiously, ignoring James' comment.
"It's just a small village in the West Country," said James. "Quite a few wizards live there."
"And the house?"
"More of a cottage really...you know...quaint. But I like it...it has soul." James and Lily smiled at each other.
"Hey, your letters came," said Lily, noticing the envelopes on the table. "Mine hasn't arrived yet."
Panic was burgeoning in James' chest, when Lily suddenly shrieked, causing James to spill his eggs down his front. The bulging green eyes of a house-elf were staring at him from across the table.
With a crack like a whip the house elf vanished, then reappeared beside James. She leaned towards him holding a sky-blue t-shirt. James looked down at his own egg-stained one and shook his head.
"It's fine," he said politely, "but thank you."
The house elf looked anxiously at James, her eyes as wide as headlights. Quickly James complied, pulling off his t-shirt and taking the fresh one from the house elf.
"Um...Lily," James said, "this is Nixie."
"Miss Lily Evans!" cried Nixie in a high-pitched voice.
"It's nice to meet you Nixie," said Lily as the house elf curtsied so low that the end of her long thin nose touched the flagstones.
Lily wasn't sure if she imagined a guilty blush on the elf's face as she vanished with another loud crack.
"You have house elves!" she said, staring at James with an expression of disbelief on her face.
"Just a few," James shrugged, feeling distinctly hot in the face. "Most of the oldest families do."
Lily started feeling rather hot too when she realised that James still hadn't put his fresh t-shirt on. To her great relief, he pulled it over his head before he continued. "Mum freed them all as soon as she married Dad, but most of them wanted to stay...I don't know why...they think it's their duty to serve the family of their ancestors, or something. So, mum offered to pay them-"
"What are you saying about me, darling?" said a delicate voice, coming in through the back door. The woman, whom Lily assumed was James' mother, put down a bunch of flowers, took off a big, floppy hat, and smiled at them, just like James.
"You must be Lily," she said, swishing over to the table. "Gosh, you're pretty. I knew you would be of course, because you have such a pretty name. Lilies are one of my favourite flowers. On my wedding day, I carried a beautiful bouquet of pale pink lilies. Anyway, I'm so pleased to finally meet you, Lily. I'm Euphemia."
Feeling slightly bewildered, Lily smiled, her cheeks rosy-pink. "It's lovely to meet you too."
Euphemia was of a willowy build, elegantly dressed in champagne coloured robes. She wasn't wearing much jewellery, but the sapphires around her neck dazzled when they caught the light from the window. Her hair was brown with suggestions of auburn and grey, and the shape and shading of her hazel eyes was quite like James's. Lily liked her instantly.
"James, I wish you'd told me we would be having company. I would have tidied up the house a bit," said Euphemia as she shook her head at her son, though she didn't sound the slightest bit annoyed.
"Oh no, your house is absolutely beautiful," said Lily, relieved that she didn't sound completely awestruck when she spoke.
"Thank you, Lily," smiled Mrs Potter. "James is always complaining that it's too big to have 'soul', aren't you James?" James just grunted and walked over to the back door, leaving Lily with his mum. "But I try to make it feel friendly. Of course, you're always welcome here," she continued, "and your parents too. Would I know them from anywhere?"
Lily blushed and glanced at James, puzzled that he hadn't mentioned this to his parents before, but he wasn't paying the conversation any attention. "I don't think so," she stammered, "they're-um-they're muggles."
"Really?", said Mrs Potter eagerly. "Well, we must have them over. I would love to ask for their advice on cars. You see, it might help us to fit in a little better around here if-"
"Mum," James called from the back door, interrupting her, "there are gnomes in the flower bed."
Mrs Potter rushed to her feet, suddenly looking rather cross. "Blasted pests," she muttered, hurrying over to James. "Fleamont's too soft on them! How many times have I told him that you've got to swing them at least twice!" James shrugged and pointed to a bed of peonies as his mum stormed past him into the garden.
"Gnomes?" said Lily, wide-eyed.
"Not really," James chuckled, "but I knew it would get rid of her." Lily rolled her eyes at him. "Do you want to see my room?"
Though curious, Lily shook her head. "I have a few questions first."
"Questions?" said James, frowning. "Shoot."
Lily walked closer and folded her arms. "Why didn't you tell your parents that I'm muggle-born?" she asked him.
"I didn't think it was important," James replied, imitating her posture with a smirk.
Reluctantly, Lily smiled. She had never known anything quite as infectious as his grin. "Fine. How does your house-elf know my name?"
James' bright eyes narrowed, and he simply said, "Nixie is a very good listener. Can we go upstairs now?"
"Okay," said Lily, following James out of the kitchen. "One more question: How can you possibly support a team as cliché as the Tutshill Tornadoes?"
James gasped and his arms and legs shot out to the sides to block the doorway into the hall. Lily raised her eyebrows at the double-T on his chest. "I respect the great sport that is Quidditch, Miss Lily Evans. Are you aware that in 1921, the Tutshill Tornadoes recorded the fastest ever win in a League match against the Caerphilly Catapults? Roderick Plumpton caught that snitch in three and a half seconds...three and a half!"
Lily smirked, and said, "He must have cheated." Then she ducked under his arm, but James caught her by the waist and spun her around.
"Nobody insults the Tutshill Tornadoes in- Mum! Hi, we were just leaving." Quickly he set a blushing Lily back on her feet.
"Hello, dear," Mrs Potter said, a ghost of a laugh etched on her face. "I just came to ask Lily if she would stay for lunch. I'm sure Fleamont would love to meet you."
"I would love to," said Lily nervously. "Thank you."
When Mrs Potter had disappeared back into the garden, Lily scowled at James, who simply grinned guiltily and pulled her by the hand down the corridor to the entrance hall, where they slipped down another narrow passageway to a staircase, which wound its way up through the left wing of the house. With every step, Lily felt as though she were shrinking. They climbed three flights of stairs before James stopped outside a door that stood ajar.
Lily crossed slowly to the middle of the room and looked around. James' bedroom was huge. The walls were dark red, covered extensively with pictures and posters. A large light-blue banner for the Tutshill Tornadoes canvassed the space over his wide, unmade bed, and secured with pins around it were hundreds of tickets for their matches. Most of the posters were of racing brooms and Quidditch players, but there were a few of muggle bands that Lily recognized, and moving pictures of friends and family were stuck to the walls around the disorganized desk by the window. A set of glass doors in a wooden frame opened up the wall furthest from the door onto a small balcony. In the garden below plants spilled from every flowerbed, and in the distance the sea glittered with gold in the sunrise. Lily turned to look at James, who was watching her almost nervously, as though waiting for her opinion.
"It smells like you," said Lily softly.
James grinned. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said, laughing slightly.
"I don't know...boyish..." Lily shrugged, her rosy cheeks growing rosier still.
James looked out the window over her shoulder. The sun was breaking over the cliffs; the sky shell pink and faintly gold. "I'd just tell her what's in my heart," Benjamin Trigg's advice echoed in his head. Lily seemed a dozen shades of gold. Looking at her was like gazing into a brilliant light and he couldn't think straight.
"James, what are you thinking about?" she asked gently.
James hesitated. "Nothing...it's not important."
"James..." Lily coaxed. "You can tell me."
James wondered if she would have said that if she had any idea what he was going to say. Or perhaps she knew...perhaps he was fooling himself thinking that Lily had missed what was apparently so obvious that Benjamin Trigg had known it without a doubt.
"James," she said again, looking intently at him. There was a curious blaze in his hazel eyes that couldn't be explained by the sunrise.
The blood was pounding in his ears when he said it. "Lily, I love you."
"James, wait-"
"No, I can't," he rushed on. "You don't understand – I can't wait anymore. I love you, Lily. I'm in love with you, and...I know we're mates now, and I love that, but it's impossible for me to keep acting like that's all I want. I can't do that anymore...I want to be with you."
Several long moments passed – or it might have been half an hour – or possibly several sunlit days. Lily's voice seemed to have deserted her, because when she tried to bring herself to speak she found the words choked in her throat. She was vaguely aware of being afraid. She was more than vaguely aware of the frenzied way her heart was hammering in her chest.
James couldn't read her expression. He'd played this scene over in his head a thousand times, but the reality of the thing was terrifying. He knew – on some subconscious level – what was coming next, and yet his chest grew tight; he could hardly breathe in anticipation. "Please say something, Lily."
She had to say something. The silence was killing her. It was heavy in her ears and it seemed to echo menacingly off the walls and floor. She could feel it swallowing her whole; she wanted to run from it, because there was nothing else she could do. If she couldn't say she loved him too, then she didn't want to say anything at all. And she couldn't say she loved him. She just couldn't.
"I – I'm sorry, I just..." More hesitation, then, "I don't know what to say. I didn't – I didn't know."
As she watched the hopeful expression slip from his face, she realized suddenly and horribly that this was a lie. Of course, she had known. Of course, she had known he loved her!
"James," she began, shaken by her sudden realization, "I can't. Listen, James, you're one of my best friends..."
He tore his eyes away from her and ran a hand through his hair. He felt ill - really, ill – like someone had pulled his heart out through his mouth. He turned towards the window, there was a lump in his throat and all the colour had drained from his face as he nodded, and Lily understood that he knew exactly what she was going to say.
"And that's all," he said, no question in his tone. "Just friends."
Breathless, and with an awful aching in her chest, she asked, "Isn't friendship enough?"
"I don't know," said James. "But...I can't do...this anymore."
"What do you mean you can't do this anymore?" she said. Her voice sounded nothing like her own. It was small, fragile – it was scared. She was scared. "You can't be my friend anymore?"
"Lils, I just told you I loved you. Don't you think that changes anything?"
She knew what was happening; she was about to lose James...she had already lost him. He'd put a distance between them, and she'd never felt so alone. She could reach out and touch him, but she knew he didn't want her to, and that hurt more than anything.
"Listen," said James, after she was silent for a while, "let's just forget about this. Let's just forget about the whole thing. If we agree it never happened, it never happened, right? And everything-"
"We can't, James!" Lily interrupted suddenly. "We can't go back to normal! It already happened – it's already out there!" Tears grew in her eyes and her head throbbed in pain. "How can we possibly be friends now?"
James just looked at her, stunned.
"Why did you have to do this?" she said, and immediately she wished she hadn't. She wished she could take it back. She wanted to run. The broken look on his face was too much to bear.
"I – I'm sorry," he said quietly.
There were a million things she wanted to say – anything to fix this, anything to take it all back.
"I have to go," she choked.
"Don't- just wait a second..."
But she was already out the door, sprinting down the stairs. James followed.
"Lily, wait a second!"
The staircase, the corridor passed in a blur, and then she was stumbling out of the front door, out on to the driveway, and she turned to see James still following her, with a pleading expression, nothing on his feet as he left the house. He opened his mouth to say something, but she closed her lids over tearful eyes and apparated.