Be a Man by ficexchange

Merry Christmas, Crys (Crystalline)!

Be a Man

Be a man, his father had told him, fixating that authoritative Potter eyeball on him.

Only now, worry on his shoulders, his strength no match for Atlas, he isn’t truly sure what that means. He knows what it means for his father: marry the right girl, be the wealthy, high-class husband, create more Potter clones to continue the line. His father means for him to marry Sophia Wencloffe, society’s choice for the ideal wife.

Be a man.

Sophia’s arm looped through his, her perfect little heels click-clacking along beside him, he struggles to figure it out. Does it mean lying? Pretending that he does love her, that he does want to marry her? Feigning that he’s forgotten about that certain shade of red? That particular green shine? If he does do this, eventually Sophia will know him well enough to know the truth. And he’ll probably care enough by then to not want to see her hurt.

Sophia isn’t a bad person. She’s sweet, one of the sweetest girls he’s known, and intelligent. She’s funny, charming, absolutely gorgeous. He hesitates to bestow the adjective ‘perfect,’ but she’s definitely the closest he’s ever known to the word. She just isn’t Lily.

She doesn’t have Lily’s spark, her fierce determination. She doesn’t set his skin on fire when she accidentally brushes against him. Her smile, however beautifully shaped it may be, does nothing for him. She isn’t Lily and no wand in the world is powerful enough to change that, no magic in the world able to make him forget it.

He isn’t sure what to do. The hold his parents have on him is strong, but not unbreakable. But as their only child, he hates disappointing them. He longs for the simplicity of Hogwarts, for the freedom, the time he spent with her. He’ll never have it back.

Sirius had blinked when he asked for help, seeming confused. “I don’t understand the problem, mate.”

Remus had sighed, his eyeballs turning ‘round in his skull, as if anticipating idiocy. James had waited, patiently.

“I mean, now you get this bangin’ wife, and you can have a bangin’ girl on the side.”

“Because Lily would really go for that, Sirius,” Remus had tried to protest over their friend’s laughter, his exasperation obvious.

And even if Lily would, he could never do that to her. She deserves to be loved, cherished, adored. She deserves the kind of life he had imagined for them, the kind of life he was having so much trouble throwing away.

He spies her. Blinks. His heart gasps awake. His grip uncontrollably tightens on Sophia’s arm and she glances up at him questioningly, follows his gaze. He hasn’t kept Lily a secret; she recognizes her from his glowing descriptions. She bites at her lip, finds herself wondering if he’ll ever look at her this way. It seems pretty bloody unlikely.

Sophia fades away. She’s still there, next to him, but she could be in Azkaban for all he cares.

Lily is looking at him, her green eyes finding his, and the irony does not quite escape him: the fact that they’re bumping into each other here, now, in a parking lot, a place universally acknowledged as a stopping point, after these past few months of moving on. Lily looks at him and those months have disintegrated, they never happened, yesterday he was holding her in his arms. And she’s wearing bloody white for Merlin’s sake, white, wedding white, and just seeing that color against her perfect skin is enough to break him.

“I can’t marry you, Sophia,” he says, unable to tear his eyes away from the vision in front of him.

“I know,” she replies softly, and he thinks she might be crying, and even though his father’s voice is in his head, he can’t quite be man enough to be hers for one more moment. He never truly was hers, and they both knew that from the start.

He’s home, he’s himself, he’s the man his father wants him to be the moment his hands grasp hers once more. He wants to cry, but he can’t stop grinning, she seems confused, but her expression mirrors his own: one of disbelief, joy, hope.

“Can you forgive me?” he whispers, resting his forehead against hers, his arms wrapping around her.

“For what?” she asks, smiling through misty eyes. Bloody hell, he missed those eyes.

“For letting you go.”

Her smile widens, she gazes up at him, certain.

“You never did.”