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The day outside was beautiful. June"s heat reflected upon the field making it impossible to refuse the invitation to emerge from beneath the covers and savor the morning.
From atop the Gryffindor tower, one could observe dozens of third-year students playing with ever-bashing boomerangs, whilst Mr. Filch reprimanded them, red as a tomato; on the other side of the courtyard, some girls read magazines in groups, while certain couples took advantage of the shade beneath the trees to spend time together—something that also deeply outraged Mr. Filch.
But Sirius, Peter, and Remus remained indoors, exasperated, attempting by every means to drag James out of the dormitory, yet he continued to resist, his face practically pressed against the window and his gaze fixed upon the smiling red-haired girl who walked by the lake, hand in hand with some boy from Ravenclaw.
He should be down there as well, he knew this. He should be enjoying himself, playing pranks, attracting considerable attention and, perhaps, teaching that ridiculous boy a well-deserved lesson. But nothing motivated him. Seeing such a clear image of Lily smiling romantically at someone else and thinking that it could be him there beside her, sometimes felt really painful.
So, he continued ignoring his friends, their mingled voices calling his name, the thunderous slamming of the door, the deafening silence of an empty room. Nothing seemed relevant. Only the image below, a constant reminder of the barriers he himself had assembled and which he himself would have to destroy if he wished to change anything.
The reflection consumed even more of his energy, whilst the scorching sun burned his body, fogging his spectacles and inducing faint sensations of delirium. More than once he thought he had seen Lily gazing up at him with a cruel look and a cutting smirk. Could it be possible? Could she be so perverse? Did she perhaps think of him as bulletproof? He needed her like a heartbeat and there she was, amusing herself with his suffering.
James stepped back, away from the window, fled from the ray of sunlight that insisted upon scorching his skin, released the air he had not realized he was holding, and only then became aware that his eyes were closed, squeezed shut, refusing to perceive anything else.
Alarmed, he rushed back to the window, only to find a breathtaking redhead seated alone at the lake's edge, her hands resting upon the grass, her face lifted toward the sun, and a peacefulness that in no way accorded with the earthquake that established itself within James's heart every time he thought of her.
Was he going mad? Could it all have been his foolish imagination playing tricks upon him? Might he have been jinxed? He was no longer confident about anything. But one thing was certain: for that girl, he would take all those risks.
The realization brought him an easy smile and, spinning on his feet, he seized his bag and set off running down the stairs. Going mad for Lily was worthwhile, but fighting for her, under that stunning summer sun, in the most idiotic way possible, was even more worth it.