She sits across from him, on the red armchair, legs tucked in beneath her. Her red hair obscures half of her face, which is bowed down over her essay. Though they're not looking at him, James knows her eyes are the most brilliant shade of green, almond shaped and utterly entrancing. He should know, as he spends most of his spare time thinking about them. She bites her lip, pulling at the skin, as her brow furrows slightly. She sighs, and tugs a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. It doesn't really do much good, because it falls back again. He always notices these things, but today he focuses on something totally different.
He's suddenly noticed that her fingers are the most beautiful he has ever seen in his whole eighteen years of life. They're long and slender, yet not bony. The pale skin looks soft and caring, but James knows it can be damn painful and taut when she slaps her hand across his face. Her fingernails are pink, with white rimming the top edge. Her nails aren't awfully long like most girls like to keep them, and James loves that, because he knows that those nails have a vice like grip, especially when he's trying to escape from them. The actual nail is long, however, and the soft pink looks a thousand times better then the white. At least, that's what James thinks.
He opens his mouth to tell her just that, but then snaps it shut. He now knows that Lily hates to be interrupted when she's studying, especially when she's studying. It's one of the many things he's learnt about her, now that they're Head students, share a dormitory and are somewhat getting along. His attempt to get over her over the summer was devastatingly unsuccessful, even though he'd tried his utmost to stop thinking about her. As Sirius says, the pool's got a deep end and a shallow end, and James' stuck in the deep end, without anyone to pull him out.
But somehow, he doesn't seem to mind being like this, floundering in unrequited love, even though it hurts that she's made it clear she only wants to be acquaintances, perhaps friends with him. She's always made that clear. He's been trying to accept it, he really has.
Even though he's noticed she's started to shy away from his touch, blush when he smiled at her, and do things he would never have imagined were possible.
He won't make the same mistake twice, however. He won't jump to conclusions.
He will tell her that her fingers are something special, just like the rest of her, though. But when she's not busy.
In the meantime, he's happy to not so subtly stare at her, while pretending to do his long completed Transfiguration essay.
After what seems like a century (time passes oddly when it comes to her), she drops her quill from those fingers that are starting to drive him crazy, and stretches. She yawns, and doesn't bother to cover her mouth or flared nostrils with her hand, like she normally does when she's in public. He gets up from his place on the couch, and moves silently towards her, a smile creeping up on his face. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and he knows she hadn't realized he was sitting on the opposite couch the whole time she was frantically completing the essay that was due the next day. She was ignorant that way.
She finally opens her eyes, and lets out a small yelp of shock when she is confronted with to big hazel eyes framed by black rimmed glasses inches from her own.
James chuckles, and plops down on the coffee table opposite her.
"God, James, you scared me!"
He grins; he'd never grow tired of hearing his name spoken from her lips.
"Yeah?"
"Yes! How long have you been there?"
James smiled, and raises an eyebrow.
"Only the past, what, hour or so. Right there, on the couch, I've been."
Lily gapes.
"But...I didn't notice! You must've been awfully quiet."
"A Marauder has his ways my dear girl."
He tweaks his nose mysteriously, and tries to ignore the fact she blushed a marvelous shade of pink at the words 'my dear girl'. He probably imagined it anyway.
A silence passes, and even though it's past midnight, and she's tired, and so is he, neither wants to get up and head to bed. Perhaps it's because they're gazing into each others eyes. Green and hazel. James suddenly remembers what he's here for, and tares his gaze from her eyes, and moves them to her hands, which are in her lap. He takes one gently in his calloused one, and turns it. Her eyes are on the top of his head, in wide wonderment.
"Has anyone ever told you that you've got the most beautiful fingers?" he murmurs. If only he could hold her hand forever.
He looks back at her. Her eyebrows are raised in surprise. She raises her other hand, and flexes it experimentally.
"No, I can't say anyone ever has"
"Well, you do." He says decidedly, her hand still in his.
"Thank you...I guess. But I must say, fingers James? That's something that's obscure to notice. Fingers are hardly something one admires as beautiful."
She over analyzes every compliment he gives her. Always. But he doesn't mind, because that's really just a part of her. He's quiet for a moment, but traces her palm lines gently with his thumb.
"They're not really obscure, if you think about it."
She raises an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"Well," he says slowly, "Fingers are used to represent quite a lot of things."
She waits for him to elaborate.
"Think about it for a moment. A simple finger, when raised on its own or with another can mean so much."
He feels a wave of confidence wash over him, and grins, as he lifts her middle finger.
He clears his throat importantly.
"The middle finger," he says clearly. "When signaled on its own, the middle finger is meant to insult, and is considered rude."
Lily smiles slightly, and tries to ignore the fact that they're extremely close.
"However, when coupled with the forefinger," here he tugs her said finger, so that two fingers are raised, "The sign represents peace. Odd, really."
He folds her two finger back in, and strokes her thumb.
"The thumb. Though we don't realize it, the thumb is probably the most important finger. We wouldn't be able to hold anything without the thumb. When pointed upwards, the thumb signals a job well done, or encouragement. Positive things, generally. However, the Romans used the upside down signaling of the thumb to signal death"
He looks back up into her eyes, to see her staring back. He gulps. The feeling of hope is knocking on his door, boosted by the blush in her cheeks and flutter of her eyelashes as continues to caress her hand. It's nothing, it has to be nothing. He pretends he doesn't notice her reaction, and continues his speech.
"The forefinger. Dead useful, this one is. We use it to point, and the like. Forefingers are used in games like cricket by umpires."
He notices that Lily is surprised that he knows about Muggle games like cricket. She always believed him to be oblivious to the Muggle world.
"However, in some Indian cultures, the forefinger is believed to be poisonous, and they don't use it for holy practices."
Lily's eyebrows threaten to disappear into her hairline. Since when does James Potter know so many facts about fingers?
He's moved on to the little finger, her delicate finger.
"The little finger. When two people link their little fingers, a promise is made. A pinky promise. An unbreakable promise."
Here, he links his little finger with hers, smiles, then releases it. It doesn't matter that she hasn't spoken yet; somehow he can sense her interest, and her will for him to continue. It's in her eyes.
"But, and here's the but, the little finger is considered rude in Chinese cultures. Much like the middle finger in Western culture. Also," here he leans further forward, and whispers,
"The little finger when crooked like so, implies that a guy has a little…you know,"
Lily eyes dance with mirth, and she raises her eyebrows in question.
James chuckles, and continues his murmuring,
"A little…shall we say…device. And no man appreciates someone telling them that their…device is little."
Lily lets out a small breath of laughter, and rolls her eyes. Then James looks straight into her eyes again, and suddenly all humour evaporates. It's just him, his jet black hair, hazel eyes, his musky smell twisted with sweat and something she can never quite put her finger on. She feels things she can't quite put her finger on.
"The fourth finger. The ring finger. My favourite finger," he breathes, voice hitching. They're mere inches apart, and the hope has come storming in, raiding his body, not caring for the unwillingness to co-operate with it. He doesn't want to hope that maybe, maybe, she feels something, because surely he'll just be hurt and let down.
But he just can't help it. He just cant help but hope.
"It doesn't signify anything but love. When marriage takes place between two lovers, a promise ring is worn on each spouse's finger. A bonding ring, eternal…"
Somehow, the gap between them decreases, but the gap is still there.
James' lips open and close soundlessly, his urge to kiss her, to be with her, is killing him, and she can see it in his eyes. Despite want she wanted to believe, she's been falling for him, this untamable, wild guy. Everything that she once despised about him now made her heart flutter like crazy. All she knows is that she wants him to kiss her, despite the fact she told him so heartlessly at the start of the year to 'keep his fucking distance'.
Despite the fact she slapped him hard across the face when he had tried to make conversation. She regrets that. She regrets that she's diminished his confidence, even if it is just a small portion of pride she's taken away.
She wants him to kiss her, and her eyes are urging him to kiss her, but she can tell he's not sure. It's like she's stuck up the middle finger, then and lo and behold, she's giving him the thumbs up. So she does the one rational thing she can. Quietly, but full of conviction, she says,
"James, kiss me."
He looks into her eyes, wide in shocked amazement. Hers are blazing and sure. And so he does.
It's everything that a first kiss should be between two people. It was hardly gentle, but not overly demanding. Her lips were sweet on his, and she tastes like apples, not strawberries, and it's perfect. His arm coils around her waist, and her hands are thrust in his hair. His brain is still trying to accept the fact that he's kissing her, and she's kissing back, but it doesn't matter, because his heart is full, and he's complete. Finally.
And there's one thing he knows more than anything. One day he's going to slip a ring on her beautiful fourth finger. Her ring finger.
A/N Wow, I think that's one of the deepest LJ fics I've ever done. Random, but kinda deep too. Well, at least I thought so. I was feeling oddly poetic when I wrote this. Mood swings. Damn annoying they are.
So my fellow humble bugs, review!! Please!!