A/N: This is my first L/J fic, and it was originally going to be a one shot, but I just got lazy in the middle of it and decided to break it up into two or three parts. I'm not sure when I'll update next, seeing as I'm experiencing the calm before the storm right now with my choir and school. I feel the need to apologize before hand for my lack of ability to make the story very authentic. I'm horrible at grammar and spelling, and I'm even worse at British terminology, seeing as I'm American. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it despite all that, and hope you take a second to review.
Disclaimer: Consider it disclaimed.
No Cure For Love – The Epilogue of an Incident
Chapter 1: Of Staring Contests and Enigmas
He was staring at me again. I could feel his gaze on my face, and from the corner of my eye I could see his body half turned in my direction. I continued my conversation with Alicia, but quickly enough I lost my train of thought. He was staring at me, and it was so damn distracting.
"…and of course it was all bullocks, so I told him to shove it and left. Lord, what is happening to boys these days?" Alicia continued in her usual manner, bragging about her latest conquest, while I stared blankly at her. The lull in her stream of dialogue was my cue to sigh sympathetically and shake my head.
"Yeah," I said in a generic, noncommittal sort of way.
Just then the professor walked in. "Ladies and gentlemen," (I mentally grinned at this. Calling kids like the Marauders "gentlemen"? Hardly fitting). "Please forgive my tardiness. I would like to take this moment to remind you - young adults as you are - that magic is not to be used in the hallways. That includes booby traps of any sort." She sent a pointed look in the direction of Sirius Black, who responded with an over-exaggerated visage of innocence.
The professor continued on with the lesson, introducing the topic of the day's lecture. I, of course, heard nothing (try as I might), because he was still staring at me. Really! What was so fascinating?
"Alicia," I leaned over and whispered into the blonde's ear.
"Hm?" She acknowledged me while still taking down notes.
"Have I sprouted horns?"
"What?" She turned and looked at me in surprise. "No. Why?" She was fond of monosyllables when answering questions.
"Don't look now, but Potter keeps staring."
She of course looked right at him, which, as she recounted later, caused him to immediately look away in a ridiculous attempt at nonchalance. "Yes, he was definitely staring."
I rolled my eyes. "Well I'm glad we've come to a unanimous conclusion." Sometimes she could be more hindrance than help. "I know he's staring, my point is that I want him to stop."
"No worries. He's looked away now. The matter is quite finished. Now if you don't mind I've a load of notes to take down." She then returned to her quill and once again began to scribble away.
I really shouldn't have been amazed, but I was. After six years of taking classes with Alicia, one would think I would have gotten used to her abrupt and unabashed way of dealing with people. I guess I hadn't. I quickly overcame my combination of slight indignation and amusement and focused my thoughts on more pressing matters – notes. The rest of the class passed without ceremony, and as I was packing my things to leave for lunch I noticed him again, only this time his back was toward me as he was exiting the room.
For some time I had known that the intense dislike I had felt for him in our younger years and at the time of the "incident", (as I had come to call it) in fifth year had dissipated, to be replaced with temporary anger, then confusion, then fascination, and then something I wasn't too keen on inspecting or admitting. See, after his display of unflattering and childish behavior that fateful afternoon, he took to ignoring me, which wasn't saying much since the school year was almost over. But for that Potterless week or two I was angry with him for continuing the immaturity. I, being the confrontational person that I am, could not stand him giving me the "silent treatment". Something big had happened and I wanted to talk it out (after, of course, my temper had cooled).
We finished our fifth year in silence, and then at the beginning of sixth year he approached me as if nothing had happened. He was, however, softened in a way. The years before he had always been a bit much, like coffee with nothing to curb the intensity. But then he was different, and he was speaking to me in a mature and friendly way. He seemed genuinely interested in my holiday, and I, so overcome by shock, reciprocated the favor. The year continued on in much the same manner - he and I occasionally having conversations about this or that, but never even touching on the subject of "us".
It was then that I began to notice how very physical he was in his approach with girls. No wonder so many of our house were practically in love with him – he treated each one with care and attention when he was around them; holding their waists, stroking their arms. And then shortly after I realized that he never touched me… ever. I began to become intrigued by his dealings with people, and even more so, I began to feel a little hurt that he never touched me in the tender way that he touched all his other female friends.
So I left the classroom, meditating on our odd history, and headed over to lunch where I sat with my close friend, Catlynn.
"Why hello, darling." She greeted me with her usual exuberance.
"Hey love," I responded. We were quite comfortable with each other, which, for some disturbing reason, a number of the boys in our year found endlessly fascinating.
"So I hear that Potter has resumed his one-sided staring contest with you," she stated while buttering a piece of bread.
I choked on my drink and put my goblet down to stop the milk from dribbling down my chin. "Who told you?" I asked her once I had composed myself.
She shrugged. "I just know these things."
"Right." As if she was telepathic. I liked to tease her and say that she was telepathetic.
"You know I never reveal my sources."
I knew, and yet it never stopped me from asking. If keeping secrets were a business, she'd be ridiculously rich. People liked to talk to her because she always found a way to take their side and illuminate the good points of their argument, and it was well known that she could take a secret to the grave. Apparently keeping secrets was synonymous with revealing sources.
"Yes, he was staring at me a bit last class. I don't know what to make of it. He is an enigma to me."
"Why? Lily, he's in bloody love with you. You all should just get married already."
"Excuse me? What makes you think he's in love with me?" For all that I was trying to act upset, I couldn't help but feel intrigued and even a tiny bit excited. "He loathed me in fifth year, and we're barely friends now."
"Then why did he ask you out?" She continued about her meal in an easy manner, apparently not noticing that I was a bit distressed.
"Because he was being immature and arrogant, and was most likely dared to do it. We went over it a million times after it happened! You know better than anyone my whole diagnosis of the 'incident'."
"But that still doesn't address the question of his feelings for you."
"His feelings were more than likely akin to hatred."
Catlynn put down her fork and turned to me. She was getting frustrated with my over analytical nature, and would most likely use my full first name any second.
"Elizabeth," there it was, the full first name. "Stop thinking so much! My matchmaking abilities have never gone astray thus far. He really fancies you, and I think you would enjoy spending time with him."
I opened my mouth to respond. "And spending time in classes doesn't count." She said before I could pull together a comprehensive sentence. She knew me too well.
I cleared my throat and turned my attention to my food. "Well, if he really does fancy me then so be it. I doubt it though. And nothing would happen or work out anyway. Besides the fact that I don't have feelings for him, we're just too different."
"Indeed." Catlynn smirked in a way that only the closest of friends can, and we were both silent about the matter for the rest of the meal.