A Burning Passion

Lily hated quidditch. She hated it with a burning passion...

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1. A Burning Passion

Lily Evans hated Quidditch. Hated it with a burning passion. Well no, that wasn’t necessarily true. She said this because she knew it would hurt him. Not much, but maybe enough to draw him away. Because it was him she hated. With a burning passion. Actually, again, it wasn’t necessarily him she hated. It was how she felt about him that she hated with such a burning passion. Because as much she wanted to believe she hated him and his Quidditch, she really loved him, and she was currently watching him play Quidditch. She was also truly worried about him. More than she should have been considering the hate she felt towards him.

James Potter was sitting on his broomstick a hundred feet off the ground, and Lily was currently feeling more nervous for him then he himself had been that morning at breakfast, trying desperately to pretend that he wasn’t. Lily was gripping the edge of her seat so hard that her knuckles had turned white. And it seemed to any random observer that she was trying to dig her fingernails into the material beneath her. At the beginning of the year she wouldn’t have cared one bit if he took a dive from that broomstick of his and smashed his overinflated head into the ground. Because then he was just a twat. Someone who wasn’t worth her time.

Lily Evans now watched James concentrate on the whole field with such dedication that it actually made her sink a little in her seat, and her heart start to hammer even more rapidly in her chest, and her skin tingle and… but that was unimportant. James Potter was snaking through his teammates, the quaffle tucked under his arm. His arm that was no longer holding onto the broom handle, and he might lose his grip and fall the hundred feet between him and the hard, definitely dangerous ground beneath him. Unconsciously, Lily pulled her wand out of her pocket, as if she would actually be able to unfreeze and save him if he fell.

James Potter, of course was not worried about this, and nor was anyone else. The fluttering in his stomach that he had been feeling prior to that match had dissipated, and it was with full confidence that he chucked the quaffle—accurately—at the goal post from fifteen feet away. The Keeper missed, the ball went through, and a deafening cheer rose above the red-and-gold-clad supporters. Lily breathed a sigh of relief as James put his right hand back on the handle of the broom. That was before a horrible scene flashed before her eyes as a bludger flew past James, narrowly missing him and blowing his untidy hair from his slightly sweaty face.

Lily Evans saw the bludger smash James in the side of his head, causing a horrid crunching noise to ring through the silent stadium. And James topple sideways off the broom, and there was a gasp of horror from the crowd and Lily stood, tears beginning to form in her eyes as James unconscious body slammed full-force into the hard, definitely dangerous ground beneath him and… Lily had to stop herself because now there was a scarlet blur streaking through the air and the Gryffindor Seeker had caught the Golden Snitch, and the game was over, and Gryffindor had won. They had won the match and they had won the Quidditch cup.

James Potter alighted gently on the grass, cheering with his teammates. All the tension Lily had been feeling as the game progressed suddenly left her, as if an invisible drain had been pulled somewhere on her person, and all she could feel was numb relief. Before she knew what she was doing, she had flung herself over the wall onto the field and ran over the grass into James’ unprepared arms. And this was why she hated how she felt about him. This was why she hated him. This was why she hated Quidditch. Because he could do this to her now. Make her come so close to mentally collapsing just for him. She hated it all with a burning passion. And then Lily Evans was pressing her lips firmly onto James Potter’s lips with all the burning passion in her numb body.

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