Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own 'Heels Over Head'. That's Boys Like Girls'. Lucky lucky lucky.
Okay, I had a slight rating discrepancy at first, which is why this took so long to get up. It's rated mature, only for strong language, so other than that, nothin' to worry about. Now, read & review; this story is my baby, and I'm ridiculously proud of it. (:
Lily Luna Potter. Beautiful chapter image made by annihilation @ TDA.
Now I’m heels over head,
I’m hanging upside down.
Thinking how you left me for dead,
Someone knocks on the bedroom door. I know it is my brother. I didn’t even need to hear his voice to know it would be him. For one, this was his bedroom too. It would make since that he wants to enter it. Secondly, he hasn’t seen me since this morning, when we entered our parents’ house to collect the rest of our belongings. He is
my twin brother, so he would know when there was something wrong, and he would come looking for me. Even though it takes him longer than it takes most people: Lorcan, like our mother Luna, often gets lost in his thoughts and accidentally ends up somewhere other than where he intends to be. I find myself to be more like my father, Rolf, who is very practical and realistic, although it often means my emotions consume me much faster than they do my brother.
I’m laying on the floor, on my back, next to my trunk. The memory of Lily Luna Potter deciding that she did not love me anymore provoked even more memories of her, each one of them more powerful and incredible than the last, until my head started to feel like it was upside down. All of the blood is still pounding in my head, and I know I will cry soon if the flow of memories to my brain doesn’t end.
Lorcan doesn’t wait for me to answer him. He pushes the door open. “Most people prefer to take naps on beds,” he points out. His voice makes him sound like he is only ever half-present in reality. As his brother, I can safely say that it’s even less than half. If it’s possible, my brother is even dreamier and more absent minded than my mother. “You know, Mum says Mr. Potter sent an owl, asking if we’ve seen his daughter.”
“Which we haven’t,” I respond rather bitterly. If it were anyone but my brother standing in the doorway, I’d apologize profusely for speaking so rudely. However, it was Lorcan, and he rarely takes offense to my tone, although he always notices. “And I doubt we will anytime soon.”
My brother walks across the room towards me. He is wearing that lost expression on his face that he was practically born with, looking like the masculine form of our mother, but his grey eyes, which are identical to mine, are rather thoughtful. He sits down beside me, his long legs stretching out in front of him across the scuffed hardwood floor. “No, Lysander,” he shakes his head at me. His blond hair is always loose and unkempt, like our mother’s and like Lily’s. It flops around his face now, and he looks kind of puppy-like. “We have
seen his daughter.”
I sit straight up. “Lily was here?”
“She stopped by to leave a note,” my brother says. He reaches into the pocket of his wrinkled and faded jeans. After a few seconds, he pulls out a shrunken piece of parchment and hands it to me. I look at it cautiously. “I think it’s for you.”
I reach for my wand and tap the parchment. “Did she say anything?” I ask Lorcan as the parchment grows to its full size. It’s a small slip of paper, so it barely grows at all. Lily hates writing letters, especially long ones. Usually, she would have said whatever is in that letter to my face. I suppose the circumstances are different now.
Lorcan shakes his head again and jumps to his feet. He wanders off towards the door again. “I’ll leave you to read that,” he says dreamily as he exits the room.
And when you hit the coast,
I hope you think of me.
And how I'm stuck here with the ghost,
Of what we used to be.
I’m going to California tonight. No real reason other than to go. You know how that works don’t you? Or maybe you don’t. You’ve always been a rational thinker. You have a reason for everything. But I don’t have a reason for today, nor did I have a reason for yesterday. One day, you’ll find a reason to stop loving me. I’m not perfect enough for you.
She is going to California. It is a strange place in America, and I cannot remember her mentioning it once. Maybe she just decided she would like to visit there today. That would be like Lily, to hear of a new place to travel to and decide that it would be fun to try it out. That would be so like Lily. I have heard about California once or twice, and so has she; we discussed America a lot in Muggle Studies, and that was her favorite class. She got her love of Muggles from her grandfather, while I just loved learning about them because she did. Maybe she will go to California and pretend to live like a Muggle there.
Lily will love California. I know she will. It’s warm there, and there’s a beach where she can sit by the shore all day with the waves splashing around her. The weather is nice enough that she won’t have to wear shoes for very long each year, she won’t need the scarf she left behind, and she still won’t have to learn how to successfully put on a tie. And maybe she will never miss that soft brown blouse that she abandoned on the shoreline by the Black Lake just so the warm sunlight could soak through her thin white camisole underneath on that awful afternoon. She often spoke about her desire to live near a shore, so she could spend her time barefoot in the sand. Maybe in California she will spend all of her time barefoot, walking along the water. It seems so like Lily.
I envy her now. Lily gets to escape this. She gets away from England, to go to a big new place. I will remain here, surely. Here in England, where memories of how much I still love her follow me around everywhere I go. It doesn’t seem fair that I will forever be haunted by the incredible memory of how I love her, while she cut away all the strings and stopped loving me, and then escaped completely. But Lily is perfect, so maybe she does deserve to get away like that.
She will fall in love with someone else in California, I’m sure. Someone who will be perfect enough for her. She says she was not close enough to being perfect for me, but I know it is, and always will be, the other way around. That is why she stopped loving me, I know. Because she knows I’m not perfect for her, even though she will never have the chance to admit it to me. I would be the inferior one when placed next to her, and she deserves someone like her. Someone who isn’t rational. Someone who doesn’t have a reason for everything. Someone who will make silly choices that end flawlessly, just like Lily does. Not me. Oh no, not me.
Even though I know I wasn’t nearly as right for her as I thought I was, part of me still hopes she thinks of me every once in a while. Not enough to bother her or make her unhappy, of course, but just enough for her to remember. That would make this a little more fair.