I LOVE writing from James's perspective. I pin him as rather poetic, especially about Lily. This is just fluffy, plotless one-shot my brain spewed forth in the wee hours of the morning. Enjoy!
"Mr. Potter!"
It takes me a moment to realize where I am. I shake back to focus from staring at the light reflecting in shades of crimson off of her hair. Oh, right. Transfiguration.
"Mr. Potter, now that you've decided to rejoin us, would you please tell us one of the properties of transsubstantive spells?" McGonagall queries, giving me a raised eyebrow and an extra helping of that cutting Scottish brogue.
"It must change the material upon which the spell cast into a totally unrelated, different material. Which, coincidentally, must also be able to exist independently of other materials," I say, sounding much more intelligent than I actually mean to sound. I just really like Transfiguration.
"Quite right, Mr. Potter," McGonagall says. "This, of course, gives rise to the idea of alchemy, an interdisciplinary art in which one material is changed into…"
I lose track of her voice in favor of the back of Lily's blazing auburn head.
It's been nearly seven years now, since I first saw her on the Hogwarts Express. To be honest, I didn't think much of her at first. Stubborn, blunt, prideful. All right angles and severe, straight lines, not a curve to her. Far too rule-abiding for her own good. Drove me crazy, always haughtily sniffing at my work in charms, making the most fantastic potion in class. Prefect, muggleborn, class-O Lily Evans. But round about third year, she changed. I changed too, which might have had more to do with it. Her flat planes rounded and filled out, and she softened, as she became more comfortable, more sure of her place in the magical world that surrounded us. I had always been sure of my place, of course. But when you're around someone who radiates energy and heat like Lily Evans, you can't help but act a prat around her out of sheer inability to cope with your feelings.
Luckily for me, I have friends who are better than to let me continue to go about making an idiot of myself. And I might have done some real soul searching over the summer after my fifth year. Moony really did make quite a few good points about some of the things I'd been doing up until now, and I realize they were unsavory, at best. I think I redeemed myself in the fall of our sixth year. As much as I hate Snape, I couldn't very well let him die. Plus, Remus would have hated himself forever over it. He blames himself for a lot of things he has no control over. It makes him a better person than I am. My insides squirm with guilt.
Man, I was such a shit person. I still am, sort of, but I'm working on it now at least.
I look for a distraction, and luckily, my favorite one is sitting a few seats away. My eyes focus in on Lily's hair. I watch, enthralled, as she reaches a hand as white as her namesake around and fiddles with a lock of it. Her oval nails pick through the strands. Her thumbnail is shorter than her other nails; she bites it when she studies on her own. I've seen her do it, in the library, that thumbnail between opalescent teeth. Sometimes her tongue presses against her thumb tip. I always wish, in those moments, that it was my thumb there. I've had my share of mouths, hot, wet and fixating, but none of them come close to the mouth of Lily Evans.
Her hand slides back around, through her hair, and she replaces it in her lap, out of sight. My mind zooms into overdrive, picturing a situation where she slides that porcelain hand into my lap instead…
"Mr. Potter!"
Damnit.
"Yes, professor?" I ask, tearing my mind away from my fantasy. Were I a lesser man, I might have turned pink, but I've been here too many times during class to let it phase me now.
"Pair with Mr. Lupin, please, and work on listing as many transsubstantive spells as you can before the period ends. Your assignment is to pick three to give a presentation on for the next class." There's that arched brow again. "I need not repeat myself again, do I?"
"No, professor," I say, grinning at her. The corner of McGonagall's mouth twitches. I know she secretly likes me. She'd probably like me more if I actually paid attention in her classes more than half the time. I think she rather admires Padfoot and myself for our magical creativity.
I shoulder my bag and move down to the row where Moony is sitting. He's on her row. There she is, three seats down, working with Dorcas Meadowes. Moony is eyeing me in a manner far too similarly to McGonagall for my taste. "What?" I ask him as I sit down bodily in the seat next to him. "Nothing," he replies, in a way that tells me he means anything but nothing. We pull a sheaf of parchment between us, and I start rattling off spells like they are all I live and breathe. But they aren't. What I really live and breathe is the young woman sitting three seats down. I sneak a glance over as I continue to off-hand spells, dictating to Moony.
Lily is speaking animatedly to Dorcas. I watch her with a sidelong look. The way her mouth bends skyward sinks into me and warms, like drinking hot chocolate. Her eyes widen and narrow as she speaks, punctuating words with blinks of brightest green. She's expressive, in the way some of the muggle paintings I've seen of water lilies are expressive. Like dynamic brush strokes on a canvas, working together to make motion. Motion that I wish was closer to me, as I watch her eyes light up at a joke she's just made to Dorcas.
Her eyes flick over at me. I feel an iron rod slam through me, down my throat, as they lock onto mine for the briefest second. It's like being caught in some kind of emerald-tinted storm; the flash in her eyes the lightning, my heartbeat the thunder. Lily looks at me and my mind goes still and my heart yells. I feel myself smile at her, an instinctive reaction.
Her tender lips purse. Her eyes crease at the corners, hardly discernable to someone who doesn't know her face like I do. Confusion clouds them, makes them opaque, in some odd sense. She looks away, still looking slightly bemused. The green of her eyes leaves me like the green leaves the world in winter.
There's a noise on my left, and it's Moony, clearing his throat pointedly. Dorcas looks back at me, grinning and giggling, before elbowing Lily, who shoots her a venomous look. Gods, if that shade of viridian is poisonous, then let me die in agony.
"Earth to James," Moony hisses. I've stopped listing spells.
"You pick three. I did the bulk of it," I say, looking at him crossly. He's still got that eyebrow cocked like someone stuck a pin in the arch of it. "What?" I ask, when he shakes his head, a slight smile playing across his face.
"You are really useless when she's around, you know that?" he answers, and underlines three of the spells. I don't see which ones. It doesn't really matter, I can do all of them already. Most people don't see me as the academic type. They'd be right, mostly, except where transfiguration is concerned. I read on the stuff for a hobby. I manage in my other NEWT classes, but this one is where I shine.
"So I've chosen cross-species switches, protean charms and switching spells as our areas for-"
"We should cross-reference them all with Alchemy to show the interdisciplinary aspects of each for our presentation," I say. "See, Moony? I do listen." He gives me a skeptical look. I shove him in the shoulder. We both laugh. McGonagall looks over at us. I can tell that she avoided pairing Padfoot and I on purpose. I toss him a look. He's grinning at me from across the room, paired with Marlene McKinnon. Well, he'll be pleased about that, then. I waggle my eyebrows at him, and he returns the gesture, making us all choke down chuckles again. Thank god it's nearly Christmas. This is our last class. Nobody is as on task as usual; we all need the break.
The period ends. I pack up my things, tossing our list and my book haphazardly into my bag. I look over at Lily. She stands up, like a startled dove rising out of tall grass, white and lean and smooth, her robes swinging forward and hiding her frame behind a swath of black fabric. I've seen that frame enough times, fantasized about it enough, to see its outline through the wool as though it isn't even there. The curve of her collarbone to the point of her shoulder; the line of her thigh, interrupted by her angular knees. I watch her push her hair over an ear, and catch a glimpse of her throat. She swallows unconsciously, and I watch the muscles in her throat ripple, under her over-defined chin. The severe line of her jaw softens as she smiles at Dorcas. I watch them walk to the back of the room.
"Paging James Potter! Earth to Prongs!" I hear in my ear. There's Padfoot. I can hear him grinning like a wolf. I shove cheerfully in his direction, splitting into a grin to equal his and turning to him. "You gonna try again, mate?" he asks, as Moony joins us in exiting the classroom.
"You really think that's wise?" Moony asks. "I mean, you only asked her a week ago. Give it some time, I'd say."
"Well, he said that she told him to keep asking," Sirius replies pointedly. "And she's in a good mood today, she just found out she'll be able to go to Dorcas's place tomorrow, to stay over Christmas. Been smiling all day, hasn't she?"
The corridor is cold compared to the classroom. I can see the rime on the windows, hazing over the vista of ice and snow outside. The garland over the windows in the hall gives me a dose of holiday cheer, and I make my decision.
"Yeah, I think I will ask her," I say, with far more bravado than I feel. I've been rejected so many times by now that I don't feel nervous. It's something more like resignation. But Lily Evans is a woman worth the pain of persistence. Quick-witted, sarcastic, honorable, funny. Other attributes too numerous to name. And it doesn't help that she's built like a white willow branch. Maybe a bit straight and narrow, but graceful for it. She looks like water in the summer, and feels like heat from a bonfire.
"Wait up for me in the common room, lads," I say. "I'll come up after she turns me down flat again, and you lot can laugh over it."
Padfoot and Moony exchange a look that tells me that they find me rather pathetic. "Look, James, maybe you should just give it a rest," Moony says, but I cut him off.
"It's become more of a running joke between us, Moony, you know Evans."
Moony pulls a look, but nods. He knows Lily better than the rest of us, since they were prefects together before Lily was made Head Girl. I've gotten to know her a bit more this year, being made Head Boy, but he's got me beat on time spent with her. Sometimes, I worried that she rather fancied him, but he told me I was ridiculous.
I grin at them, and jog ahead, to where Lily and Dorcas are walking.
"Oi, Evans, can I talk with you a moment?"
She turns like she's expecting me, looking at me with a good deal less animosity than she ever has in the past. I think she's come to grips with me being Head Boy. In fact, I think I might have exceeded her expectations at the post, to our mutual surprise. It's only been three months, but with the aid of the map on my patrols, I've done pretty well.
Lily's eyebrows raise closer to her hairline, wrinkling her smooth, high brow.
"Potter?"
"Alone, if you don't mind," I say. I give Dorcas a pleading look. She looks at me, and then back to Lily, an amused smile on her freckled face.
"It's fine. I'll see you in the common room, Lily. Don't forget our notes!"
Lily looks like she wants to say something, but Dorcas heads up the hall toward Gryffindor Tower. I wait until Moony and Padfoot walk by. Padfoot gives me a pointed look, and opens his mouth. Mercifully, Moony hip-checks him, and then grabs him by the elbow and drags him away. Lily turns slightly pink, a lovely shade on her, I think. I would love to make her blush like that every day for the rest of my life. But, first things first.
"So, you're Christmasing with Meadowes?" I ask, by way of small-talk. Great, James. Roaring start there.
Lily looks at me, a little taken aback. Did she just brighten a little, or is it me?
"Yeah, I'm staying with her and her parents. I don't think my sister wants me in the way. She's bringing her boyfriend round for Christmas," she says.
"Sounds like she's some kind of... something," I say, catching myself.
Lily smirks slightly, before sighing, a tiny little breath like the first breeze in April. "We… have a complicated relationship."
"Yeah, I hear that," I say emphatically.
She chuckles.
I just made Lily Evans chuckle.
This is an event without precedence. I am in uncharted waters.
I look at her, with her sea-green eyes fringed with dark lashes, her sheet of dark red hair. Her low laughter is like a hymn in a church, sacred and ringing; it echoes in the cathedral of my brain, leaving me in complete awe. And maybe a bit of terror.
"Are you headed home, or staying here?" She asks me. I barely catch it while basking in the sound she just made.
"Me? The lads and I decided we'd stay here at Hogwarts, actually. Last year and all that," I waffle, running a nervous hand through my hair. I feel heat creep up my neck. This isn't the same as all those other times. This isn't an offhanded demand, or a joking suggestion I'm about to throw at her. This just got very, very different.
I see can see her waiting. Suddenly, I regret all the other times I asked. Because they weren't real like this time is real.
"So I was wondering… I mean, I know we've only got a week until break, but do you maybe want to go… go to Hogsmeade with me? Y'know, when we get back. There's a trip scheduled…" I trail off. I feel like someone is pricking the bottom of my feet with needles. I feel unwanted sweat begin to form on the nape of my neck, even as the chill of the corridor sinks into my skin.
She looks up at me quizzically, and I see several emotions I don't quite recognize flash behind those stained-glass panes of her eyes. She's weighing this like I've never seen her weigh it before. Ever since last winter, when she said those words that gave me so much hope.
"Keep asking, Potter."
The words echo back through time as I stand there on the edge of some kind of precipice, waiting on her to drop the knife, one way or another.
She shifts her weight to her other foot, and wraps one arm around herself, gripping her other arm, hugging herself as though to keep off a draft. Her eyes flick to a window for the briefest second, before finding mine again.
"Yeah, alright," she says. She sounds as unsure as I felt a moment ago. I don't feel uncertain now. I've never felt more certain or euphoric in my entire life. I don't know if I've heard right.
"You will?" I can tell I must look like a gobsmacked moron.
"Yeah, sure," she says, looking at her toes, and then up at me, and smiling. I want to kiss those lips, and jump up and down, and dance. That smile goes straight into my bones, and my entire world is suddenly springtime in the dead of winter, foliage brought to life by the emerald green in her eyes.
Stars and fireworks and fire in my veins, all at once.
"YES-" I start, before she cuts me off.
"Just for a drink, James. It's just a drink."
"Make it a meal. Please?" I ask, my tone unintentionally begging.
"A small one," she concedes.
I beam at her. She flushes more deeply, bringing out her sharp cheekbones in brilliant red.
"Well," she breathes, looking more than a little shocked at herself. "Well, I need to go… Dorcas…"
"Yeah," I say hurriedly, "Yeah, right! You go. I'll catch up with you after break then, sound right?"
"Yes." I want to hear her say that word over and over forever in my mind for the next year. It sounds like a victory bell tolling in my ears.
"Ok! It's a date then!" I say, smiling, using all my self-control not to jump up and down and whoop like a crazy person. "Well, have a happy Christmas, alright?"
Lily smiles more widely, and my world falls into a spiraling whirlpool of green eyes and red hair and white teeth. "You too, Potter."
"You can call me James," I say, as I turn to leave. I'm not going to be able to contain this victory much more, and I certainly don't want to embarrass her before our first date.
"Oh, right," She says. She turns awkwardly and adorably on the spot, and starts padding lightly up the corridor, back to the tapestried warmth of Gryffindor tower.
I turn to head out to the grounds for a few minutes. I don't even remember reaching the Great Hall, I'm in such a state of disbelief and euphoria. The second the freezing air hits my face, I start whooping and jumping up and down like a complete lunatic.
I leave massive disturbances in the snow halfway to the greenhouses before I run out of breath. My voice feels like someone ran sandpaper down the inside of my throat, and I'm sure I've scared every bird from every tree for a mile. I throw myself down in the snow. I'm not even wearing a proper coat, so it soaks my back in freezing moisture the moment I hit the bank, but I don't even care. I just lay there in the freezing cold and the snow, thoroughly enjoying the moment. I'm so warm that I can't even feel the cold.
Suddenly, a head with a pointed, green tartan hat comes into view above me. I know that hat.
"Mr. Potter, just what, might I ask, are you doing?"
McGonagall is looking down at me, a wry, mildly amused look on her face.
"Just celebrating, professor. It's Christmas break, after all!" I exclaim, hastily getting to my feet. I realize, as I stand, that I'm about a head taller than she is now.
McGonagall purses her lips. "Potter, you are Head Boy of this institution, and a member of my house. Please conduct yourself with more dignity in the future, won't you?" she says, a corner of her mouth traveling upwards ever so slightly. I give her a salute and a toothy grin, and start heading back toward the castle. Gripped by a sudden inspiration, start skipping, kicking snow everywhere.
"DIGNITY, Potter!" I hear McGonagall shout after me. But I can hear that she's smiling.
I ascend the staircase in the Great Hall. I can't wait to tell the lads. They won't even believe me. I feel heat creep over my entire body. Lily Evans. I just successfully asked out Lily Evans.
This is going to be the best Christmas break ever.
And for once, I'll be even more excited when it ends.