Speak Now

Lily

My friends don't understand it.

Why would I, the pretty, popular and ever-so-fearless Lily Potter, ever fancy a boy like Lysander Scamander?

I mean, it's not like he's tall and graceful, with pale grey eyes that pierce right into your thoughts. It's not like the shyness and silence is cute; or the way his long fingers are just the right shape for holding mine. No, who would ever want a boy who treats a girl like an equal? Who opens doors for them; and smiles lopsidedly at them from behind James's copy of Quidditch Through the Ages? Gosh, I'd much rather have a notorious, heartbreaking sleaze ball excuse of a guy any day.

Rose disagrees with my friends. Sweet Rosie, she knows she's not popular but she has never tried to be. That's made her popular in her own right, I guess. She's always approved of Lysander, even when I didn't.

But now I do.

Now I know there's more to him than what my friends call him. He's not a 'loser', he's beautiful. He's not 'gay' – I know for a fact he used to have a crush on the Head Girl, Silena Chase. Gay is not a synonym for stupid.

Lysander's not stupid – far from it. He's the cleverest in the whole of Gryffindor house, me included.

But I think what made me fall for him most is the way he gets it. He sympathises when I sometimes hate the fame my parents accidentally gave me. I know I'm popular, but more often lately I find myself wanting to get away from it all; and there is Lysander, waiting for me with that lopsided smile and those piercing gray eyes.

I think I'm going to tell him how I feel, you know. Rose asks me what I'm waiting for – "you should just get on with it, Lily!" God, she is so patronising.

But she's right, she is always right.

So today I've made up my mind.

I'm going to walk up to the 'freak' with the sandy hair and ask him out.

And if my friends don't like it, screw them.

Rose always thought they were way too superficial, anyway.

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Lysander

I love her.

I love her more than anything, and I reckon she feels the same way about me. We've been dating for about six months, but neither of us has said those three little words to one another yet.

I should tell Lily, I know I should. I've seen enough of my mates' relationships get destroyed because they missed a chance at telling their girlfriend how they feel.

James is an expert at keeping quiet. You'd think, with his confidence and loud-mouthed comments to the teachers, that he'd be completely fearless with relationships. But he's not like Lily in that way.

Lily's brave, it's one of the things I love most about her.

I love her hazel eyes, the way she hides them under glasses with thick frames because she doesn't think they're pretty enough. But recently she's stopped caring about all of that, about how she looks. I know she still has some girl friends who make fun of me, but Lily's not like that. She's always stuck up for me, especially when no one else has. Going against the 'popular girls' would be a death sentence for anybody else; but Lily can handle it. She can handle anything.

Do you reckon she could handle me telling her that I love her?

Because I do love her, I really do. I've never felt this way before about anybody, and I know what we have is real.

Lysander and Lily ... our names even sound awesome together. Lily and Lysander.

I like that.

But I like her even more. More than Transfiguration theories or Arithmancy formulae; more than any amount of fake duels with James could ever amount to.

Just seeing her brightens my day, you know? I'm captivated by her totally and completely; and I hate not being with her.

Lily's had her fair share of clingy boyfriends, but this is different. I know we have two separate school lives and we both still hang out with our friends, but she completes me, and I do her.

It's hard not to feel happy when she's around. She was there for me at a time when I wanted nothing more than an escape. Little did I realise that she was my escape from all the pain and the teasing. She held my hand as I stood up to my fears and she never let go.

To be honest, I've always been bracing myself for the day that she meets someone else and leaves me. I'm not popular; I'm a bit of a dork, actually. Yet somehow I know she'll never leave my side. It's not like I would ever leave her, anyhow.

I'm completely blessed to have her in my life.

Rose understands. She's closer to Lily, I guess, what with the whole 'cousin thing' they have. But she understands me, and has constantly reassured me that Lily loves me, she just doesn't know it.

It sounds so dumb, but I trust Rose – she's the smartest person I have ever known and I thank her for that. She won't lie or twist words to save your feelings – I suppose she and Lily are alike in that way; but Rose just has this aura of knowledge about her. You just know she's right.

Like I know I love Lily.

The only problem is telling her. One of my mates told his girlfriend the very same thing, and found himself single for the best part of two years. It could make or break a relationship; and I suppose I'm afraid of Lily going weird and rejecting me.

If she were me, she'd just go for it. Fearless Lily Potter, ready to save the world or blow it up in a heartbeat.

I'll tell her tonight when I see her.

Here goes.

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Lily

He dumped me?

What we have is the real thing; I always thought we'd end up together. But to completely throw it away after a whole three years together is not what I thought this was about.

I thought we were in love; that we would do anything for each other. But if letting him go is part of that, then I want out.

I can't live without Lysander. He's always been in my life, and loving him as more than a friend was so much better than anything I'd ever experienced.

Who does he think he is, to take it all away from me with one sentence?

Oh, hey Lily. Just to tell you, I don't love you anymore ... Yeah, see you later.

Of course, it didn't quite go like that, but I bet that was what he was thinking when he ended our relationship.

Lysander's too nice to hurt anybody; I think being bullied softened him more than the other, normal boys I know. He would never have intentionally hurt me, but ... he must have known I wouldn't have been exactly thrilled by this, right?

Rose says he still loves me. Yeah, well, Rosie also said I should have gone for it, three years ago when I only fancied Lysander. That was before the love ... before the eventual heartbreak.

I know she always means well, but she can't possibly think that I'd trust her now? As a good friend, but not as an agony aunt.

I'm only sixteen. That's too young to be messed with; Lysander should have known that.

Why me? I thought we belonged together. We did. We do.

Why, why, why, why, why?

Do I deserve this? Do I deserve to be in pieces now while he's probably swanning off with some other girl?

I feel completely messed with. I thought he was a decent boy; I thought he was different.

But I suppose it goes to show that no boy is perfect.

Lysander was as close as you could get; but now I think I need to change my standards of what I class as 'perfect'.

It's weird seeing him in person. In the Great Hall, there's no space next to him anymore where I should sit. I sit next to my old friends. They look at me oddly, but they accept me. The popular chicks. I always knew they were a little hurt when I ditched them for 'loser boy'.

Well, now he's ditched me instead. Funny, the way things turn out in life.

I think I sometimes catch him staring at me with those piercing grey eyes, but I don't want to respond. To look at him properly would only initiate another wave of heartbreak and torment. It's not worth it. Instead I'll pretend I'm perfectly happy with the way things have turned out between us.

So we never go to school Quidditch matches together, big deal. I can cheer on James without him; it's not like I needed Lysander there to make the picture complete. So we never hang out in the library, quietly laughing at all the popular girls who can hardly understand their Potions textbooks. That's fine, I can easily convert to the other side with a click of my fingers ... hey presto, and I'm one of those girls again.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I need him there.

But I can't tell him that. That would be completely awful. He'd reject me, I know he would. After all, he wanted our relationship to end, didn't he?

Maybe I should tell him; maybe I shouldn't.

I suppose this earns a trip to see Rosie ... to see what she has to say about it.

I'll apologize for being off with her, and then maybe she can fix everything. The genius Rosie, come to the rescue once again.

She'll say I should tell him I still love him.

I probably should.

Maybe.

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Rose

I normally love a wedding. I attended Victoire's, when she married Ted Lupin; and can I just say that it was the best celebration I've ever known?

So dressing up in a gorgeous formal gown should have excited me. Instead, it filled me with dread.

I'll go, of course I will ... I owe that much to Lysander. But I owe more to my beautiful cousin, who was there through it all despite her hating every minute of it.

The crux of the matter is that Lysander's about to get married, and it isn't to Lily.

How did we all end up here, I ask myself. One second it was perfect between them and the next she was left shattered and he had moved on.

But secretly I reckon that he still loves her. She loves him , I can tell; you can see it in her hazel eyes. I don't think Lysander properly stopped loving Lily, though, no matter what he says.

He can't be getting married today, he just can't. I've been persuading Lily for years that she should just tell him how she still feels, but now she says it's too late.

It's never too late.

"Rosie?"

I've never heard Lily so quiet, even from behind a door.

We're all getting ready at Shell Cottage - the wedding is occurring on the beach, under the late summer sun. In any other circumstance I would have thought this was perfect, but now I'm not so sure.

I open the door to find her standing there, looking a complete mess. She's beautiful, she always has been; but today she looks simply awful. Hey, I'm her cousin; I'm allowed to say that ... especially as it's true.

I pull her through the doorway to Victoire and Dominique's room, exchanging a glance with my younger brother Hugo who's walking past. Hugh's dressed to the nines, he looks brilliant.

Lily, on the other hand ...

"Come on," I say, sitting her down at the dresser and picking up a brush. I comb it through her fiery red hair, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her hazel eyes are puffy and she has purple circles under them from not sleeping. The thought makes me sad. She's worth so much more than this.

She notices my hesitation.

"Really, I'm fine," she laughs weakly, though I did not say anything about her wellbeing at all. I frown at her.

We look so much alike - we both have the burnt-orange shade of hair that most Weasleys inherit and our eyes are precisely the same shape. We're both equal in height, build and stature. But I suddenly realise that however much alike we are, I will never have half the courage my cousin musters up on a daily basis.

"Don't lie," I whisper to her, setting the brush down and picking up a pair of my favourite earrings of Dominique's. I put them in her ears before fetching my make-up bag. I know I can't fix her, not properly, but it hurts knowing that; so I settle with what I can do instead.

Our Auntie Fleur calls up the stairs just as I finish working my magic with the eyeliner.

"Eet eez time!"

I look at Lily. She glances back at me, her eyes wide and panicked. I lie a comforting hand on her shoulder, but I don't know how much good it can do. She stands up silently, and we both leave the room. I notice her hesitate as we reach the staircase.

"Hi, girls," Dominique appears at my shoulder, looking stunning as usual. Her silvery sheet of hair is flowing down her back and she's wearing a modest blue dress that almost rivals her looks. Her younger brother, Louis, is already downstairs. I can hear him from up here - he has never known the meaning of the word 'silence'.

"The earrings look lovely on you," she says to Lily, reaching out a thin hand to touch the jewellery. Lily doesn't respond; and I feel sorry for Dominique. She's trying, she really is.

We head down into the hallway and are immediately ushered outside by James, who is Lysander's best man. As we walk towards the beach I notice him slip his hand into his sister's. Lily doesn't let go.

We reach the location for the wedding. About three dozen simple white chairs are ordered in perfect rows; all facing a small stage which is adorned by pale flowers. I notice a singular Lily flower resting on the priest's stand. I hope my cousin didn't see it; but when I look at her she's too busy glaring at the floor to notice the decor, so I let it slide.

Lysander's parents and twin brother shuffle past us on their way to sit down; Lorcan clapping James on the back as he goes. The rest of the guests, who were previously milling around talking, all begin to assemble themselves on the chairs as well.

James looks at me, then looks at his sister. He nods at me before walking to the front and I understand immediately.

I put an arm around Lily and carefully sit her down in the third aisle from the front next to Hugo. I, unfortunately, am not placed next to my cousin and brother - instead I find myself next to a rather raucous gentleman who looks like he has had one too many Butterbeers.

A few minutes pass, and I catch sight of a few of the bridesmaids motioning wildly at James. Lily's eldest brother clears his throat, standing tall and facing the audience full on.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he says, and we rise; just as our cousin Molly plays a few chords on a silver piano that is set beside the stage. I twist to look behind me at the procession.

Lily, however, is staring deadpan at the front. In all the hustle and bustle I did not notice Lysander arrive ... and he has a funny expression on his face. Anxiety? Sickness? Dread?

The bride glides down the aisle, her blonde hair in ringlets high on top of the head. She is wearing a massive white dress; tight at the chest but literally spanning the entire width of the aisle with the enormous skirt.

I think it looks ridiculous.

She reaches the front, and we are all seated.

"We are gathered here today ..." the priest begins, reading from a small book in his hands. I zone out as he talks about the sanctity of marriage; staring aimlessly at James. He catches me looking and winks at me.

"If anybody has a valid reason for these two not to be joined in marriage ... speak now or forever hold your peace."

Silence falls across the guests. I watch Lily. She has gone a faint grey colour and she turns and stares at me with wild eyes. I shake my head wildly but luckily she seems to be frozen to her seat.

Don't, Lily ...

The silence draws on. How long has it been? Five seconds? Ten seconds?

After what seems like an age, my little cousin of nineteen takes a deep breath and stands. Shakily, slowly, but stands.

I stare at her in horror. All eyes turn to her.

--------------------------------

James

Hell yeah! Now this is what I call a wedding!

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Lily

I can feel everybody's eyes pinned on me, holding me down, but I only look at you.

Lysander.

I've known you throughout my whole life, so why are you up there with some other girl - who, by the way, is wearing the most ghastly dress - when the one you love is down here?

"What are you doing?" Hugo hisses, tugging on my wrist, but I pull it out of his reach.

Your face has gone bright red. You're trying desperately to avert your gaze; unlike your bride-to-be. She's glaring at me as though I single-handedly caused the Second Wizarding War.

"Lysander," I begin breathlessly, my heart hammering nineteen to the dozen in my chest. You can't resist. You have to look.

Oh, those eyes. Those beautiful grey eyes that pierce right into the very depths of my mind, just as they did six years ago. But your face is set and your expression unreadable.

I falter for the first time and my gaze slips to James. He winks at me with his hazel eyes that are so like mine. I can tell he's restraining a grin.

"Er, Lysander," I start again, and I can feel my face heating up. I can sense Hugo, from beside me, dropping his head into his hands with despair.

"Lily!" an audible voice whispers, and I turn to Rose. She's leaning forwards ever so slightly, and her red curly hair is falling over her shoulders. "Don't do it!"

I am suddenly consciously aware of the rest of the audience listening in.

"Hi," I say to them, lifting a hand in a makeshift form of greeting. A few old ladies turn away in disgust, muttering to each other about my rude interruption.

There is silence once more, and even I do not know what next to say.

"Hi?" your bride shrieks suddenly, shocking me so much she almost gives me a heart failure. "You can't just barge into a wedding, missy, and expect –"

"Oh, yes she can!" I think James is enjoying this a little more than is required if the gleeful look on his face is anything to go by. The bride scowls at him. "Don't you dare tell my sister what to do!"

"I hear that!" our brother Albus raises a hand and glances around pompously; speaking, for some reason, in an exaggerated American accent. James makes a rude hand gesture to him.

"Stop it!" Rose stands up, her face furious. "All of you just stop it! Lily, no offence, but sit down; Jamie, shut up; and Dora ..."

I realise that this is the first time I have ever heard the bride's name. I look down at Hugo and we share a smirk.

"May I continue?" the priest says calmly, peering at us from over his glasses. Rose blushes and falls silent, but I stay standing.

Don't ask me why.

But you're still staring at me, and I find myself unable to move; so much so that no amount of tugging on my wrist from Hugo will be able to bend my knees and force me back into sanity.

"No," I say at last, and there is a collective gasp so dramatic from the guests it reminds me of a scene from a Muggle soap opera me and Rose used to watch three years ago.

James's eyes are swivelling back and forth between me and you so much he looks almost deranged; the bride is fuming; and you...

You look at me. You see me for who I really am.

Not Lily, daughter of the famous Harry Potter. Not Lils, the popular, pretty bitch my friends see me as.

You see me as myself, who I really am.

And it makes me fall in love with you all over again.