A/N: Sorry for the spam of new stories-decided to post some of my favorite ones from my tumblr (takeharryandgo) here as well!
Lily looks up from her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, scanning the café for her friend and roommate Marlene for the third time. Once again failing to spot the blonde, she returns to her reading with a little sigh. She knows it shouldn't surprise her that Marlene is late—Lily had known her long enough to realize this was a virtual certainty—but nagging thoughts of the amount of homework awaiting her back in her dorm makes Lily impatient.
Distracted as she is with wondering when Marlene might arrive, Lily jumps when someone else slides unannounced into the seat across from her. The person in question is a young man about her age with unruly black hair and a pair of spectacles perched crookedly on his nose.
Without preamble, the young man states, " 'It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.' " When Lily merely stares at him, he gestures at the book still in her hand. "Pride and Prejudice. The first line of the book?"
"I'm aware," Lily says, recovering from her surprise. "I'm just trying to decide if you said that with the intent to impress me, or if you're in fact announcing that you're rich and looking to get married as soon as possible."
The bespectacled man grins and says jokingly, "Both, I'd say. James Potter," he adds, holding out his hand, which Lily shakes after a moment of hesitation. "I don't think we've ever been formally introduced."
"Probably because my father has yet to visit your family to make a proper connection," Lily says dryly.
James laughs. "Well, no, I just meant because we sit about four feet away from each other in human anatomy." Lily frowns, and James continues uncertainly, "With Professor Gardner? Shit, you have no idea who I am, do you?" He laughs again, but this time somewhat nervously. "Sorry, I must be coming off as a bit of a stalker. All right, let's just pretend this never happened, and I'll—"
"No, wait," Lily says as James begins to rise, though she's not entirely sure why she doesn't just let him go. "I mean, it is a little odd that you sat down and just started talking to me, but it's probably my fault I don't recognize you. I can barely keep up with Gardner's fast-paced lectures in that class, much less pay attention to anyone else."
"Fair enough," James says, resuming his seat. "If you ever want to borrow my notes, let me know. I usually manage to get everything down."
Eyeing him carefully, Lily says, "That could almost come off as arrogant, you know."
"Hmm, I suppose it could," James agrees. "Proud, even, you might say. Though pride could be considered a virtue where there is a real superiority of mind."
Lily shakes her head. "I'm beginning to feel a bit disturbed by how easily you can quote Pride and Prejudice."
James affects an affronted air. "Upon my word, you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person."
"Please stop," Lily says, though she's fighting a smile.
James's features relax into a grin once more. "I'm quite pleased to find that this is working, though." He frowns. "Did I just say 'quite pleased'? Yeah, you're right, I'd better stop before I'm stuck sounding like an eighteenth century gentleman forever."
"There are worse things, certainly," Lily says.
"I don't know. It seemed to take everyone an awfully long time to get to the point back then. If those Austen books are anything to go by, that is."
Lily's eyebrows climb toward her hairline. "You mean you've read more than one?"
"Why not?" James says with a shrug.
His nonchalant attitude about admitting something most males his age wouldn't even with a gun to their heads makes Lily feel at once impressed and leaves her with an urge to tease him endlessly for it. Before she can, however, a breathless Marlene arrives at their table.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," she says to Lily. Giving James a quick, appraising glance, she adds with a jerk of her head, "Where've you been hiding this one? He's fit as hell."
With a roll of her eyes, Lily says, "Marlene, this is James—he's in my human anatomy class. James, this is my overly forward friend Marlene."
"Pleased to meet you," James says, shaking Marlene's hand as he rises from his chair and offers it to her. "I'll leave you both to it, then. Oh, but hang on," he adds, turning back to Lily, "you never actually told me your name. It's fine if you'd rather keep it a mystery, but just know that I'll be forced to call you Elizabeth if you do."
"It's Lily," Lily says. "Lily Evans. And anyway, I'm much more of a Jane." She pretends not to notice the strange look Marlene is giving her.
"I'll keep that in mind, Lily Evans," James says, and with that he's gone.
In Thursday's human anatomy class, Lily makes point of acknowledging James as he sits down.
"Lily Evans," he says in return, and though normally Lily might have found it unusual that he'd greeted her by her full name, she feels a pleasant warmth in her stomach that he'd bothered to remember it at all. Of course, this might have something to do with the fact that, as Marlene had so brazenly stated, he is quite attractive. But Lily ignores this for now.
"How do you think you did on the exam?" she asks. "It's silly, but I always get nervous before getting grades back."
"I'm not too worried," James says, sounding genuine rather than conceited.
"I know the extent of our interactions has only been about ten minutes, but I have a feeling that not much of anything worries you," Lily comments.
"I'd say that's a fair statement."
They don't have a chance to exchange further conversation, as the two students who typically sit between them arrive and are soon followed by Professor Gardner.
Exams are handed out at the end of the lecture, and with a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach Lily quickly discovers that she was, in this case, right to be apprehensive. It was the lowest grade she'd received in her time at university, and possibly her entire academic career. Trying to calm the panic that swells within her, she concentrates on packing up her things and making her way from the classroom. Professor Gardner had warned them about the difficulty of the exams, but Lily had felt relatively confident when she'd turned hers in the previous week.
James catches up with her as she leaves the building. "So? Were your greatest fears confirmed?"
His tone is light and teasing, but the truth of the words makes a lump rise in Lily's throat. "Kind of," she says, hoping her voice doesn't betray her. "I thought I'd done all right, but . . ." Her hands are shaking, and she clenches them into fists to steady them. "I know I shouldn't be too upset, but I'm going to be applying to medical school next year, and it's really important that I do well in this class because they're going to be looking at the grades for all my pre-med courses," her voice has risen to a frantic pitch but she can't seem to control it, "and being a doctor is really all I've ever wanted to do since I was little—"
"Evans," James interrupts, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Relax. It's going to be fine. It's just the first exam—you can still easily pass the class if you do well on the next two."
"Well, it's that 'if' that scares me," Lily says, and now her voice is almost a whisper.
James is quiet for a moment. "How about this?" he offers after brief consideration. "Why don't I tutor you? Or, it doesn't have to be that formal or anything—we could just study together for the next exam?"
Taking a deep breath in a further attempt to calm down, Lily nods. "All right. That sounds good—thanks."
"No problem at all, Miss Bennet," James says with a mocking bow.
"You're never going to drop all that, are you?"
"If it worked once . . ." James shrugs. "I wouldn't want to do something that would make you stop talking to me."
"And you don't think continuously referencing Pride and Prejudice will eventually get on my nerves?"
"Well, this is how I figure it," James says, "if you associate me with the book and you like the latter, then I can only come off well in turn, can't I?"
Part of her wonders why he cares so much what she thinks, having only just met her, but she can't deny that—however sincere—the attention feels nice. "You seem rather confident about that."
"I am."
"I suppose we'll just have to see, then, won't we?"
"One more go?" Lily asks. It's the Thursday before their next exam, and she and James are settled in a pair of armchairs in the common area of his dorm, notes spread out on the table between them.
"Sure, all right," James says, but Lily catches the slight hesitation in his words, and the way his brow knits briefly as he says them.
"You want to stop." It's more of a statement than a question.
James eyes her apologetically. "I am starving, actually."
As though this is some kind of cue, Lily's stomach growls and she realizes she is hungry as well. "Right—I guess I could go for some food too. Where do you usually eat on campus?" She begins gathering and organizing the plethora of papers in front of her. "That is, unless you're meeting friends elsewhere," she adds hurriedly, feeling a little embarrassed that she'd immediately assumed they'd be eating together. They'd seen so much of each other over the past weeks that she'd grown used to his company, and had apparently begun taking it for granted.
"No, I figured we'd run up to dinnertime so I didn't make other plans," he says, making Lily inordinately happy. "As to your question—how does The Union sound? It's close."
Lily shoots him a teasing smile. "You're quite keen on eating as soon as possible, aren't you?"
"Absolutely," James agrees unashamedly.
Less than ten minutes later, they enter the café. After placing and paying for their orders, they find an empty table by a window.
"So," James says as he unwraps a roll of silverware, "let's talk about something other than the human skeletal system, shall we?"
"Please," Lily says fervently. She casts about for a change of subject. "Where did you grow up?"
"It's funny you should ask. I—" But he's interrupted by the buzzing of his phone on the table beside him. Glancing down at the text, he swears under his breath. "Sorry," he says, pushing back his chair, "I completely forgot—I do have somewhere to be right now. I'm on an intermural football team during the off-season, and our first practice is tonight," he nods at his phone, "as my mate Sirius not-so-gently just reminded me. Raincheck on dinner?"
"Of course," Lily says, now feeling guilty for drawing out their study session. But just then, their food arrives, and her conscience is soothed somewhat with the knowledge that he'll at least be able to eat his sandwich on the way.
"Actually," James says as he wraps up the sandwich in his napkin, "can I take you to dinner this Saturday?"
Lily's stomach swoops at the question. "You mean—like a date?"
The corners of James's mouth twitch up as though he's amused that she has to ask. "Yes, like a date."
"Isn't it somewhat frowned upon for a student to date her tutor?" Lily asks, partially to buy herself time as she decides how to answer.
"You're thinking of a Professor-student relationship," James says. "Besides, it's not as if you're paying me. This has strictly been one friend helping another. Though I suppose if you say yes, we won't be strictly friends any longer. Well, it depends on how the date goes. Not that I have any doubt it will go well, just—you know—I don't have any specific expectations."
Finding this flustered, rambling James endearing, Lily wonders why it had even crossed her mind to say no. "Dinner would be lovely."
"Excellent," James says, confidence rebounding immediately. "I'll pick you up at seven thirty? You're in Kauffman, right?" He names one of the all-female dorms on campus. When Lily affirms both the time and meeting spot, James grabs another napkin and fishes a pen out of his pocket. "Just text me so I have your number, and I'll call when I'm there."
"Perfect," Lily says, glancing down at the digits he'd scrawled across the napkin to be sure she could decipher them. "Have a good practice."
"See you Saturday," James replies, and with a quick wave he exits the café.
Lily pulls out her phone and enters James's number, unable to stop smiling as she does so. And then, feeling a little silly but hoping he'll appreciate the joke, she texts him: Mr. Darcy.
Only moments later, she receives a response: Miss Bennet. This is soon followed by two more texts in quick succession:
Though, if you're Jane wouldn't that make me Bingley?
Jesus, I am starting to sound ridiculous with all of this, aren't I? I hope Sirius never reads these texts. I'd never hear the end of it.
"You're certainly made for each other," Marlene says, setting Lily's phone back on the bedside table with a shake of her head. She'd insisted on reading all of the texts Lily had exchanged with James since Thursday (the bulk of which were devoted to a lengthy discussion of the believability of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy as a couple—James thought Darcy would bore Lizzy eventually while Lily insisted their personalities complemented each other perfectly) and Marlene's perusal had been punctuated by many disbelieving snorts and exclamations of disgust.
Hoping off of Lily's bed, Marlene walks towards their shared closet. "But never mind all that—the real question is, what are you wearing tonight?"
Lily pauses in her application of mascara. "That," she says, flicking the mascara brush at the flowered sundress currently lying over the back of her desk chair.
"Really?" Marlene asks, holding the dress up to herself for inspection and pointing at the neckline. "You're not even going to show a little cleavage?"
"It's our first date, Marlene," Lily says as she replaces the mascara in her makeup bag and pulls out an eyeshadow palette.
"Exactly. You need to make a good impression."
Turning away from the small mirror propped up on her dresser, Lily raises an eyebrow at her friend. "And you don't think I can do that without showing extra skin?"
"It can't hurt, is all I'm saying." Marlene shrugs.
"We'll agree to disagree on that," Lily says, plucking the sundress out of her friend's hand.
At a few minutes past seven-thirty, Lily's cell lights up with an incoming call; James's name is displayed across the screen.
"M'lady," he says after Lily answers. "Your carriage awaits."
With some amusement, Lily says, "I'm starting to think that you actually can't stop, not that you won't."
"Possibly," James says, sounding unconcerned by the thought. "See you in a few."
When Lily spots James leaning against his car across the street, she can't help the impressed, "Wow," that escapes her. "Now I feel underdressed."
He's wearing a full suit and tie, and Lily is glad that the current distance between them gives her a chance to admire his fit figure as she approaches without seeming like she's staring.
James shrugs as she reaches him, opening the passenger side door for her. "I don't know what you're talking about, Evans, you look great."
Lily hadn't failed to notice that he'd hardly called her by anything except her surname in the past weeks, but she'd come to realize this was just one of the many quirks that drew her to him.
When James slides into the driver's seat beside her, he reaches across to take her hand in both of his, and the solemn look on his face makes Lily's heart leap into her throat.
"It is my intention, if I may be so bold, to remain close to you throughout the evening," James says, though he ruins the effect slightly by almost smiling at the end.
Nevertheless, it draws a laugh from Lily before she pulls her hand back with a feigned look of disgust. "God, has it really come down to you quoting Mr. Collins?"
Grinning, James starts the engine and pulls away from the curb. "Come on, it was perfect for this situation!"
"But the connotations are decidedly less so."
"Oh, but I know you like me, Evans. I wouldn't have associated myself with someone as unsavory as Mr. Collins if I wasn't sure of that."
Lily is glad he's driving and therefore needs to keep his eyes on the road so that he can't tease her for the way his words make her blush. "So, you're on the football team, then?"
This proves a sufficiently distracting change of topic, with James going on enthusiastically about his fellow team members and the sport itself until they've reached the downtown area.
"Sorry," he says as he takes a right on Crescent Street. "You shouldn't have gotten me started—I'll never shut up about it, now."
"It's all right," Lily says. "You obviously love it, so why shouldn't you get to talk about it?"
James grins at her. "Okay, after this date is over you can tell me how you really feel, but for now why don't we talk about something that you love instead?"
"Hmm, all right, let's see." But at that moment, James pulls into the line for valet parking at Vino, an upscale Italian restaurant into which Lily had admired many elegantly dressed patrons disappear as she walked by, but where she'd never have dreamed of dining herself. All thought of their previous conversation is instantly driven from her mind. "You're—this is where you're taking me?"
"Er, yes?" James says, uncertainty coloring his tone at her anxious question. "Do you—would you rather go somewhere else?" A man dressed in a smart-looking uniform raps twice on James's window, gesturing at the car inquiringly when James looks over. Holding up a finger, James turns back to Lily, awaiting her response.
Several frantic thoughts are colliding inside Lily's head, but the first she gives voice to is, "I'd look ridiculous going in there dressed like this! I might as well be wearing jeans for all the—and you can't take me here, James." Everything is tumbling out of her at once, jumbled together into half-formed sentences. "For a first date? Just the appetizers must cost a fortune—I can't let you spend that much, and I was going to offer to pay for mine anyway, but I can't afford—"
"All right," James interrupts, more loudly than he'd intended. Waving off the valet, he pulls back onto the street. In silence, he drives to a nearby park, stops the car, and turns off the engine.
James lets out a long sigh. "I, um," he clears his throat. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but—actually, could we do this outside? It just seems strange to talk while sitting in a car, I can't look at you properly."
Though Lily would prefer not facing him just yet, she finds herself nodding. By the time she's unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, James has come around to the passenger side. He offers her a hand out of the car, but she ignores the gesture as she steps into the brisk night air. Hugging her arms around herself, she glances briefly into his eyes and then away. "I—I'm not mad or anything," she says quietly. "I know that's how it must seem. It's just that I was a little thrown by . . . everything."
"I wasn't doing it simply to impress you, honestly," James says. "I'm not that much of a prick. I only wanted to take you somewhere nice—the money doesn't matter to me—"
"Well it matters to me," Lily interrupts, meeting his eye again. After a long moment in which she and James merely look at each other, Lily continues, "Look, the only reason I'm here at school with you is because I was lucky enough to get a really good scholarship. And I know there's no way you could have known that, so I know you weren't just taking me to a fancy restaurant out of pity or—or to flaunt your social status or anything. I'm just asking if you can try to understand where I'm coming from."
James smiles bitterly. "I can't, actually." Lily blinks at him, taken aback by his self-deprecating tone. "I mean, I can in theory," he adds hurriedly, "but—all right, so you remember when you asked me where I grew up? Well," he smiles wryly, "the mansion they used to film Pemberley in the Kiera Knightley Pride and Prejudice movie was my parents' home."
For several seconds, Lily can only stare at him. Finally, she recovers enough to comment, "So I guess this makes you Darcy after all."
"Yeah," James says, a short laugh escaping him. By some unspoken agreement, they've begun to wander slowly through the park, Lily frowning at the grass below her feet as she tries to wrap her mind around what James has just revealed. "It's one of the only reasons I've read those bloody books—we had so many people, women mostly, flocking to the house when they were filming that I had to see what the fuss was all about."
"And the other reason is that you found you actually liked them?" She glances sideways at James with a teasing smile.
"Sort of. They were some of my mum's favorites, and I developed a habit of reading them to her when she was sick."
"Oh," Lily says, feeling awful for inadvertently stumbling upon such a topic. "I'm so sorry. Is she, um . . . that is, did she . . ."
"Yeah," James says, relieving Lily from the necessity of coming up with a delicate way to phrase her indelicate question. "She passed away two years ago. And to save you the trouble of asking, my father died when I was a kid."
"Oh my god." Lily stops. "James—"
"It's fine," he assures her. "Please, don't do the whole apology thing. That wasn't why I brought it up—my point is that I'm basically a walking cliché, the spoiled rich kid with no parents." Lily tries to speak again but he shakes his head. "So it's inevitable that I'm going to act like that sometimes, or say something tactless, because it's happened countless times by accident in the past. And if you don't think you'll be able to get past that, I understand."
"Well," Lily says equally as seriously, "I think that would be quite prejudiced of me, wouldn't it? Dismissing you just because your family's wealthy?"
James's previously grave expression relaxes into a smile. "As long as you remember you're the one who said it." They start walking again and James takes Lily's hand, causing her heart to thrum warmly in her chest.
"For what it's worth, I think you're much more of a Lizzy than a Jane," he says a moment later. "Not that there's anything wrong with Jane, just . . . well, she's not very prone to standing up for herself, is she? And that is decidedly not the impression I have of you."
Lily presses her lips together to hide her pleased smile. "You're just trying to convince me we are good for each other after all."
"No, I'm merely hoping that your good opinion once lost is not lost forever," he says, grinning. "So, what d'you say? Shall we give it another go, say, next Saturday?"
"Yes, I daresay we should."