First Impressions

To me, first impressions are everything. It can show you how much a person cares what another thinks of them, if they get nervous easily, how they treat people they don't know, and I always thought that coming away from meeting a person for the first time, I had a gist of their personality.

But only in one case was I dead wrong. I didn't meet him just that once, but hundreds of times. And every time I felt the same, only with the feeling of dislike growing stronger, when I walked away from an encounter with him. In my mind, he was selfish, a bully, egotistical, and an all-around jerk. But as sixth year ended, I saw a different side of James Potter.

(End of Sixth Year)

May was gone, and June was here. The air getting warmer everyday, a cloudless blue sky every day. Most chose to spend their free time outside, soaking up the beautiful weather, but on most days, you could find me in the library. Normally, I would be hard to see, in a secluded part of the library, blocked from view from almost every angle. I chose this spot, because I didn't have to worry about someone coming over and bothering me.

When I write, I tend to hate interruptions. It can throw me of the rhythm of a poem, and I can't always get it back. So for mental health, I go to my spot in the library to write. Most days since the warm weather had started in early May, I had been completely alone in the library, except for students studying for O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S. So when I saw James Potter walk into the library, I was surprised. I hadn't known he even knew this place existed, since I had never seen him in here before.

Instead of starting the poem that caused several lines and whole stanzas to appear in my head all day, I watched Potter. Strangely, a fifth year Slytherin girl came over to where he was sitting, not very far for me, and took an empty seat next to him. Didn't Potter hate all Slytherins?

"James, thanks so much for agreeing to help me study. I can't fail my Defense O.W.L., my parents would kill me," the girl said. Potter, helping a person study? This was news to me.

"It's no problem, Lexi. You know I'd do anything to help one of my friends."

What, in Merlin's name, was going on? Just last month I heard Potter saying all Slytherin were scum, and now I discover he's friends with one? Is there anything else that he does that contradicts himself? "I know we're here to study, but...I was wondering if you could tell me how Remus is feeling." Lexi paused, scanning the area around them for anyone who might hear what she was about to say, but she didn't see me listening to their conversation. "Since last night was full moon," she finished.

No wonder people say eaves-dropping's bad, this conversation is giving me a headache. How many people know about Remus's secret?

I continued to watch as Potter showed actually concern about Remus having a rough night. I think that was the first time I realized that Potter wasn't as bad of a person as I originally thought. He had a heart somewhere inside him, but it wasn't something I had seen before. That's when I decided to keep an eye and an ear on James Potter from now on.

(Summer between Sixth and Seventh Year)

In mid-July, I spent most of my time out by the lake near my home. It was in a part of the country that had almost no people, even fewer kids near my age, and no magical persons that I knew of. Not that I had a problem with the solitude, though. It was a refreshing change from the constant flow of people at Hogwarts. I was laying in the shade of a weeping willow at the edge of the lake, branches making a fortress of sorts.

The soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path made me turn my head to see who was coming. Two figures and, by the look of it, they were both men. As they drew closer, I realized I knew them—James Potter and Sirius Black. They had obviously been silent on their way here, since their conversation seemed freshly started.

“Explain to me what happened?” Potter asked, leaning on a tall rock close to my tree. Black plopped on the ground, lying on his back in a fashion similar to me. “My parents were giving me the whole speech about how I’m a disgrace to the family name, and Mother Dearest started to throw some of the newer dishes at my head, so I grabbed my stuff and left.”

My heart went out to Black. Me of all people knew what it’s like to have a less then enjoyable home life. I mean, sure, his sounded worse then mine, but still, I can get where he’s coming from. Adjusting my position slightly, I kept my eyes and ears on the two.

“Okay, so it’s done then. You’re moving in with me,” Potter said in a way that left no room for arguments. Black, on the other hand, didn’t seem to realize it. “No, Prongs, I can’t do that! Just…let me use your Floo or something so I can get to Andromeda’s. I can’t impose on you!”

Potter snorted. “Andromeda? Doesn’t she have a five year old to take care of? And I wouldn’t call it imposing. You’re my friend, and my parents think of you as another son. I think they like you more then me.”

Reaching into my bag that was by my side, I pulled out my Polaroid camera. The James Potter in front of me was not the one I was used to seeing. This James Potter looked like an actual human being, and I wanted to capture it…though I have no clue why I did. As the shutter closed, it made a loud click, though it went unnoticed by the two boys.

Potter and Black started talking about Quidditch, and I felt like it was time to show myself. After carefully stowing my camera and picture away, I tossed my messenger bag over my shoulder and brushed the dirt of my clothes. My appearance from the shelter of the willow caused both boys to stop talking. I smirked, and said, “Next time you’re gonna talk about something in the Wizarding world, you might wanna make sure no one else is around. You wouldn’t want to deal with the Ministry, would you?”

Walking away, I could feel both their eyes on me, and brought my hand up and waved without turning my head or stopping.

(First day of Seventh Year)

“Alice, can you please just put my stuff in the compartment, it’s already shrunken!” I begged my friend, pleading with my eyes. “Fine, but only because you have to go meet your fellow Head,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “Thanks!” I called over my shoulder as I ran to the Heads’ compartment. Glancing at the watch I wore on my wrist, I groaned. I was ten minutes late to the meeting with the new Head Boy. Damn, that was not the way to start off the year.

“So sorry I’m late—there was traffic,” I said as I opened the door. To my surprise, Potter was the one inside. “Potter? You’re Head boy?” The surprise in my voice must have sounded like anger, since he quickly took out his letter from Dumbledore. “I know you hate me, and you probably think I’m not up to the job, or that I even deserve it, but I believe I can do it. Remus agrees with—“

“Potter,” I cut him off, looking him straight in the eyes. “I’m not upset, just surprised. Don’t piss yourself, please. I’d rather not have the compartment reeking this early in the meeting.” The look on his face was priceless. Holding in a laugh, I brought up the subject of patrol schedules.

(At the end of the meeting)

“Potter, hold on a sec,” I said as I rummaged through my bag. Ignoring the curious look he was giving me, I pulled out the photo I had taken of Potter and Black during the summer. I cast a quick charm on it, making it act out the movements the guys had been doing at the moment the picture had been taken. “Here,” I said, holding it out to him. “To remind you that even when people are around, you can act like yourself. No need for façades, James.”

As I walked away, I could’ve sworn I heard him say “She called me James.”

(Two Weeks Later)

I walked into the Common Room after a day spent in the library, to see a very red James sitting delicately on a couch. “You didn’t put on sunscreen spells, James?” I asked him, a small smirk on my lips. He was adorable…he truly was. And maybe, just maybe, I might have the tiniest crush on him. But just maybe.

“I forgot, and no one reminded me! And it hurts!” James exclaimed, wincing in pain. “Where exactly did you get the sunburn?” I asked, trying to recall the charm to turn water into vinegar. “Face, arms, back, and chest,” he said, and I could tell her was still in pain. “I’ll be right back; and take off your shirt, it’s gonna make the sunburn worse,” I said before I headed upstairs.

I came back down carrying a basin of water and a small cloth. Sitting on the couch next to a now shirtless (and extremely good looking) James, I turned the water into vinegar after muttering a quick charm. I dipped the cloth in the vinegar, and gently started to dab it onto James. James gave me a one-armed hug, but winced in pain as he did so. Hiding my blush behind my hair, I continued to dab on the vinegar.

(December First of that Year)

“Hey, Lily, what’s up?” James asked, plopping into the seat across from me in the Great Hall. I shrugged, biting my lip as I read the letter from my mother for the hundredth time. It was the usually pleasantries, mixed in with her saying I couldn’t come home for the holidays, since Petunia’s in-laws were coming over, and things had to be perfectly normal. Not that I’d want to go anyway, since Mummy was bound to get drunk most nights.

“You okay?” he asked, voice filled with concern. I nodded, but he didn’t seem to be convinced. Crawling under the table, he reappeared to my right. “Lils, what’s wrong? I might not be the smartest guy around, but I can tell when something’s bothering one of my friends.”

The concern in his voice was genuine, and his eyes were staring straight into mine. I shook my head, and muttered, “I don’t wanna talk about it here.” James nodded, and motioned for me to follow. Soon we were in corridor on the seventh floor. James walked in front of the wall three times, and a door appeared. Opening it, he said, “Welcome to the Come and Go Room, or Room of Requirement.”

“Is it always like this?” I asked, my eyes taking in the comfortable couch and chairs, fireplace, pillows, shelves of books, and thick black carpet. “No, it changes to what you need. When I was walking in front of it, I thought about a place where you would feel comfortable enough to talk.”

Hugging him tightly, I muttered a thank you. Soon enough, we sitting on the couch our feet touching as our backs were pressed against the opposite arm rests. “So, what’s wrong, Lils?” he asked. I sighed, and took a deep breath before starting my story.

“Three years ago, my father got into a car accident. He died, because St. Mungo’s wouldn’t take him because he’s a Muggle. My sister had always hated me for the magic; she thought I was a freak. After he died, my mum and sister blamed it on me. Mum…she started drinking. She’s almost never sober when I’m home, and it’s the same when I’m gone. My family hates me.”

James looked like he was about to say something, but I shook my head to stop him. I wasn’t finished yet. “Normally, it really doesn’t bother me; I’m use to it by now. But I got a letter from my mum today, telling me I can’t come home for Christmas because my sister’s in-laws are come over, and they think I’d scare them and make them think my whole family is full of freaks. It just hurt, because they’re my family, my flesh and blood, and they hate me. I mean, yes, I have done things that I really shouldn’t have when I was home, but still. And sometimes, I think they’re right. About everything.”

“You are not a freak,” James said, moving me so he could wrap his arms around me in a hug that neither of us ended. “You are the most amazing person I know, and I’m sure they don’t hate you. They’re angry at God for taking your father, and since they can’t take out their anger at him, they do it to you. Never believe any of it’s your fault. We all have a time to go, and your father’s just came earlier then your family would have liked. And you have friends who love you; Alice, Frank, Remus, me, Marlene, Sirius, and Peter.”

There was a silence, in which I took in all of James’s words. I started to smile, and snuggled into his chest when he said, “What thing?” I looked at him, puzzled. “What things did you do at home that you shouldn’t have?” he elaborated. I looked away, not wanting to say what I had done to myself. “Lily?” he asked, concern dripping in his voice. Instead of saying something, I opened my bag and rummaged around until I found a plain spiral notebook.

Flipping through the pages, I stopped, and started to read aloud:

“Bringing metal down to flesh
Sliding it across
Sighing in relief
That I'm no longer at a loss

I've found peace in the friendship
Of a dangerous blade
I know soon I'll have to lie
In a bed that I have made

No one has a clue
About the addiction I fight
How I always dread the time
When darkness fades to light

Because that's when I have to act
Like nothing at all is wrong
I pretend I'm in a masquerade
And I make others play along

But it's not my fault
That no one seems to care
That I'm in a pool of misery
Drowning in my own despair.

But it is all my fault
That no one knows what's true
I guess I'm good at hiding things
Since no one has a clue

So as I pick up the knife
And smile in pure bliss
As the metal of the blade
Gives me one final kiss.”

“It’s called ‘Kiss of Metal,’” I said after having no response from James. He pulled me closer and I didn’t resist. Nor did I when he pulled up my sleeve to reveal the cuts—though they were more of scars now—that ran up and down my wrist.

“Promise me, Lily,” he said, his voice low, “Promise me you will never, ever, do this to yourself again. That if you feel the need, you will find me, and talk to me instead of doing this to yourself. I don’t want to lose you.”

Looking into his eyes, I saw concern, anger (though not at me), fear, and love. Taking a deep breath once again, I said, “I can’t promise to never do it again, not now, but I can promise to try to stop, and to talk to you when I feel the need to do this to myself.”

He told me that was enough for now, and we stayed in the position we were in the rest of the day.

(Later in the day)

“James?” I asked, softly. “Hmm?” he replied, face buried in my neck. I bit my lip and said, “I’m sorry.” My voice was close to inaudible. “What for?” he asked, adjusting us so we were facing one another. “For always hurting you over the years, and never even letting you have a chance. If I could go back and change it, I would.” The last part was so quiet, I didn’t think he would hear it, but he did. “It’s not too late to give it a try, Lily. That is, if you want to?”

I nodded, and brought my lips to his.