Chapter Text
///
Remus doesn’t believe the giant squid is real. Nor does Sirius, who agrees with Remus far too often for James’ liking these days. Peter has gone on the record with a “no comment,” which James feels is rather unfair.
Just a story, just a figment, Sirius says. About as likely to actually exist as James is to get a date with Lily Evans. Which is to say, not likely at all.
But James has always believed in the giant squid.
He watches for it, sometimes, of an afternoon, lounging on the shore with his mates, when they all have their ties loosened and sleeves rolled up, their shoes off, passing a flask around in the late-summer sunshine. He hasn’t seen it yet, but he feels certain that someday, he will.
The first two weeks of September slide by, the first two weeks of their last year in school. The afternoons are warm and golden and James hates to be inside on days like this. The leaves are already beginning to change, green with gold edges and gold with red edges and shades all in between.
One afternoon in the third week of September, James is alone by the lake, perched on a rock with his feet in the water, smoking a hand-rolled fag he nicked from Sirius, who is off somewhere with Remus doing, well, something.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of color and movement; turning just a bit, he sees Lily. Walking toward him. He tries not to panic or have a heart attack, and quickly stubs out the fag on the rock, watching sideways as Lily drops her book bag and sits on a patch of grass just a few metres away.
James has been in love with Lily Evans since the first day of first year. All right, maybe not in love. But fascinated and obsessed and determined to woo. Thus far he has been wildly unsuccessful on the wooing front.
“Afternoon, Ev – Lily,” he says quietly, nodding politely in her direction, and she looks up. She doesn’t smile, precisely, but her expression is sort of soft.
“Afternoon, Potter,” she says. Then she reaches into her bag, retrieves a textbook, and begins to read.
James turns back toward the lake, suddenly wishing he hadn’t stubbed out that cigarette.
And then he sees it.
Too far out in the lake to be a swimmer, too large to be a mermaid. Or a fish. Or anything other than the giant squid. Its body rises like a buoy, a curve of rust-brown in the blackness of the water.
“Lily,” James says, pointing. “Look.”
A tentacle rises out of the water, twisting and curling strangely before disappearing once more. The surface of the lake ripples where the squid surfaced. James looks over at Lily, and she is smiling, her hair as bright as the autumn leaves, her face luminescent. She turns away from the water and looks at him, and her smile doesn’t fade.
///